Sycomore Chanel 2008 Eau de Toilette

Anyone who knows my taste in perfume a little will guess what comes out when I test Sycomore: Nothing good! It is inevitable that in order to describe the scent somewhat, I will split my commentary into two phases, an emotional and a rational description. For the latter, it is essential that I first get rid of my feelings (I apologize in advance to all lovers, I will make it up in part 2, I promise!).

Phase 1: The Emotional Outburst
My first test round shook me. My God, I thought, how awful is this scent! Despite all the rejection, it is astonishing how creatively Sycomore made me in my word creation. Words like corpse caresser or pliers scent came to mind, and I am actually rarely that mean. I also thought: Which woman would want to wear this? Every cliché box that opened up for me had to be closed again immediately. And upon further consideration, no woman came to mind who could find pleasure in it. This is not a women's fragrance; it is at least unisex, although - I thought - I wouldn't even want to smell it on a man. This is not unisex; this is not sex at all, it is clearly an IT. Test rounds No. 2 and 3 were not as mean, but they solidified my feeling: Sycomore and Blanche: Never!

Phase 2: Attempt at an Objective Description and Exploration
In trying to be fair and not demonize the scent, two explanatory approaches present themselves: (a) if you read the notes, Sycomore reflects something like my anti-fragrance direction (b) it is also partly an expression that deep down I am a bit of a mainstreamer.
(a) Sycomore is, in a delicate (!) way, very bitter. The dry woodiness and the cool aura are very present. And the most important thing: Vetiver, a lot of Vetiver! I do not smell the pepper. In my opinion, Sycomore can easily and appropriately be declared unisex. Visually, Sycomore appears to me as a rough, whipping wind at the coast, paired with the dull sounds of waves crashing violently against the rocks. It pulls, hisses, and lashes, you squint your eyes, yet the wind still brings a few tears, you shiver a bit and would prefer to cover your ears. But still: You stand there, fascinated by the sight!
(b) The beauty of Sycomore is that it makes it easy to have an opinion about it, and this also helps to better understand one's own taste in fragrance. I do not like it because I feel comfortable in many feminine fragrance drawers - admittedly - whether sexy/sinful/seductive/lovely/sweet/sassy, all associations that I like to evoke in myself. However, Sycomore is a scent that has no interest in bringing out a typically - not even an atypically (!) - feminine side of the wearer. It cannot be summarized with just one image of a woman because it is truly too complex for that. I perceive the bitterness and the harshness in Sycomore as something neutral, a neutral, non-judgmental femininity! Sycomore is also not a mood or seasonal scent; the wearer imbues it with the meaning she assigns to it. In the search for new fragrances, we are always looking for the ultimate distinction. That one scent that is simply different from all the others. Sycomore is such an ultimate distinction! As far as my taste in fragrance is concerned, I am much less individualistic than I secretly wish to be, but at the same time, I also know: In matters of fragrance, what pleases is always and at any time allowed! It is about what pleases and not about what!

I give 40% for the courage to have created this scent and not to declare it unisex. I can recommend a Sycomore test to any woman (and also man) who has grown tired of all the copies of copies of copies of copies according to the idea of a typical woman. If you prefer to be the rock in the surf and not the sexy wave. You will only love the scent if you are not looking for a typical women's fragrance, but are willing to take a different, unknown path for the ultimate distinction to perhaps find pleasure in the rough, harsh, bitter Sycomore symphony.