Cedre Blanc encountered me - not very glamorously - in the form of a sample that the perfume seller I trust had smuggled into my shopping bag. I am not usually stingy; however, I treated these two milliliters like Scrooge McDuck with his coins. Only because of this could Creed's cedar water regularly accompany me on my home sofa to sweeten my evening olfactorily.
In the meantime, the scent enriches my collection - and is a striking proof of the thesis that it is the inner values that count: Externally, this amphora-inspired bottle appears quite valuable, but somewhat old-fashioned; it could have been used to bottle Grandma's rose water.
What does the inclined commentator do when he has fallen for a scent? He employs various tricks to cast the object's weaknesses in a friendly light. Of course, he will use linguistic softeners and decorative poetic images to express his enthusiasm. Ideally, he complements his report with an experience that is inextricably linked to the scent; personal involvement always resonates! Perhaps he also takes the easy route and neglects existing flaws in favor of an eloquent hymn with the catchiest melody possible.
That I also like to be ignited, I do not deny. Recently, I have come across several scents that impressed me greatly. Almost all of them share one thing in common: My judgment was always based on the respect for the expertise that manifests itself in these compositions - regardless of (or thanks to) a certain distance that remained between me and the scent.
Sometimes a bridge of affection grows, and the distance diminishes - as happened with Prada's Infusion d’Homme. However, the last encounter that triggered a genuine emotional overload was Kenzo Air Intense; Encre Noire as its reincarnation at least allowed me to hear the echo of those emotions.
Now Creed's cedar water has struck. This is all the more astonishing, as the scent does not correspond in many ways to what usually delights my receptors. I like present, projecting scents - the sillage of this Creed is rather restrained. Its longevity, however, is not as modest as is often reported online: Good six to seven hours Cedre Blanc remains loyal to me before it fades into scent nirvana.
The most important distinguishing feature from my usual preferences is the wonderful, almost ethereal lightness that characterizes this Acqua Originale. Cedre Blanc is a quintessential elven scent - bright, pure, and yet distant, without appearing cold. Its strength is its weakness: It does not beg for attention, does not demand admiration, is free from any exaltation. Telling stories is not its forte; Cedre Blanc is a mood conjurer, not an entertainer. Its presence is transparent, its color light.
Above all, it is the cedar that is responsible for this impression: Like freshly cut wood, its scent blows in the wind. Galbanum whispers of delicate green needles, while bergamot contributes the memory of a Mediterranean spring without any bitterness. The laurel assists discreetly, its freshness giving the scent a muted shine. [Cardamom is also found in the list of ingredients; in its use, Creed must have followed Hahnemann's teachings.]
Should Cedre Blanc meet an early demise, the scent would not have lived in vain: The top note is a perfectly orchestrated masterpiece that would also demonstrate completion as an "Unfinished" work.
Yet Cedre Blanc does not wither but literally blooms: Floral notes enrich the bouquet and give the composition a captivating sweetness. This is free from any syrupy sweetness - and certainly not cuddly. Cedre Blanc remains true to its restraint and brings with Nymphaea olfactorily into play what is already hovering associatively in the cedar grove: like barely visible nature spirits, a hint of water lily drifts in the aroma. Jasmine bushes exude fragrance as if cedars had borne their flowers. However, I cannot detect the rose geranium; it may only be a connecting, albeit hardly perceptible, link in this delicious chain.
That a pinch of vetiver is also hidden somewhere in this scent is obvious given my preference for the sweet grass. Its appearance comes late - and almost on the edge of the perception threshold. The cedar asserts its leadership claim in the drydown without ever needing to raise its voice; the sandalwood deepens the mild-woody character.
Whoever thinks of forest when it comes to cedar, sandalwood, and vetiver misunderstands the scent character (not only) of the base: Cedre Blanc is the clearing in the cedar grove, the sun whose rays peek through the treetops, the light that dances on the ground…
One thing Cedre Blanc is certainly not: a hero scent. It embodies the olfactory counterpart to contemplative calm - or is just “...a washed-out, drained, bleached wood perfume...,” as Leimbacher writes.
Is he wrong? Perhaps not - even if my receptors interpret the scent completely differently. At least we agree that nothing dark is perceived in Cedre Blanc.
I can think of another accusation without being able to raise it: The scent is beautifully soothing. That could come from me (it does); however, it does not describe what Cedre Blanc evokes in me. The truth is: Those looking for edges and corners will not find them here. Cedre Blanc is an ode to balance - the scent incarnate golden ratio.
Why what usually bores me knocks me off my feet in this case - that is the open question to which I still have no answer. Perhaps I will simply leave it unanswered - and find out in half a year that such an overdose of l’art pour l’art is indeed bland. Currently, however, I would like nothing more than to douse myself from head to toe with this water. (Internal note: choose an alternative scent tomorrow morning!).
Can it do anything - apart from being beautiful? Let’s say - it works, even if the usual flight distance must be undercut (You remember: The sillage is of the discreet kind). “Wow, what is that?”, “You smell lovely!”, “Can I sniff again?” - those were just some of the reactions that Cedre Blanc provoked in a short time. Their accumulation surprised me after all. Question to the specialists: Is this the Creed DNA? [By the way, I currently have no nervous twitch in my eye; I’m winking]
Who can wear it? Cedre Blanc is for me a perfect unisex representative - and a go-to scent as well. At best, its sillage may be a bit too limited for clubbing, but that remains a matter of opinion. The same goes for the price: I understand Leimbacher's objection - and yet I disagree. I would also prefer it to be cheaper - but because it is precisely Creed that produces this magical water, I suppose I must also swallow the hypertrophic pricing policy of the manufacturer. In return, I at least receive a product that convinces through composition, quality, and emotional impact. (Besides, the greedy Creedies surely want to sell something other than this stuff that supposedly beams panties off…)
Conclusion: Even if one should love for love and not for beauty - Cedre Blanc convinces primarily through the latter. However, its contemplative, cheerful, reflective character does not get along well with show-offs and posers; there are stronger weapons in the arsenal of the fragrance industry…
Top Notes 
Bergamot
Galbanum
Laurel
Cardamom
Heart Notes 
Waterlily
Geranium
Jasmine
Base Notes 
Cedarwood
Vetiver
Sandalwood
NuiWhakakore
Chizza
Rieke2021
Yatagan
Vrabec
Ergoproxy
Manu79
Kellemann
MichH
Globomanni
