Crown Rose Crown Perfumery 1873
1
Lance Breaker
I had the bottle Crown Rose in my possession for half a year before I decided to put it up for adoption - today it will hopefully leave me for appreciative hands. In this half year, I did not leave a review for this fragrance, no statement, no critique. I wore it maybe five times during this entire period, which is why I am letting it go now.
However, I am by no means letting it go because I didn't like it. On the contrary, the average rating of 6.6 (as of 03/23) hurts - this gem truly does not deserve that. Therefore, I take this farewell from Crown Rose as an opportunity to champion this misunderstood gem. It was supposed to be a brief, appreciative statement - my need to communicate had other plans, and now the whole thing has become a bit more extensive.
Back to the average rating: While this cold-hearted "always trying" pains my soul, I can largely understand the substantive arguments behind the ratings of my predecessors. Antiquated, dull, out of touch, stale floral water... yes, definitely. This fragrance had its time, and that time has been over for roughly a century and a half. And while the women's fragrance charts here on Parfumo are dominated by retro styles, fashion is rediscovering the past century, and the solid wood dining table of my great-grandmother finds its way back from the shed to the dining room, this offspring from the blissful Crown Perfumery will likely experience as little of a renaissance as classic hat fashion. And it is precisely this circumstance that makes Crown Rose so fascinating for me.
A common thread that runs through the less objective reviews here on Parfumo is the transportability of perfumes. Good perfumes evoke memories, conjure images, ideas, connotations. This perfume stands out in this regard, especially due to its outdatedness - Crown Rose is time travel in a bottle. Where, if not here, do you find yourself in the long-gone London of venerable colonial gentlemen's clubs, tailors and hat makers, warm, soft, dim gas lanterns and their reflections on the worn, polished cobblestones? This must truly have been the scent of a lady of the world and standing back then. Clean, distinguished, attractively aloof - through the rose-romanticizing retro lens, of course. The London of the late nineteenth century must have been far more filled with soot, covered in grime, blessed with horse droppings, and generally a rather dismal melting pot, but that is another topic, for which there is surely another perfume.
That this fragrance is neither timeless nor in accordance with the times, unfortunately does not only allow the wearer to time travel but also inevitably forces their opinions into rather binary paths. I could not escape this either, only I somehow ended up at the other end of the spectrum.
To finally put the pitiful five times I wore this fragrance into the right context: Male, mid-twenties. In other words, before I am locked away in a rubber room - this fragrance is not worn out there among people - it is worn for oneself, allowed to work, and enjoyed in silence. In that sense, one last wistful spritz of time travel, then the bottle will go into the package.
However, I am by no means letting it go because I didn't like it. On the contrary, the average rating of 6.6 (as of 03/23) hurts - this gem truly does not deserve that. Therefore, I take this farewell from Crown Rose as an opportunity to champion this misunderstood gem. It was supposed to be a brief, appreciative statement - my need to communicate had other plans, and now the whole thing has become a bit more extensive.
Back to the average rating: While this cold-hearted "always trying" pains my soul, I can largely understand the substantive arguments behind the ratings of my predecessors. Antiquated, dull, out of touch, stale floral water... yes, definitely. This fragrance had its time, and that time has been over for roughly a century and a half. And while the women's fragrance charts here on Parfumo are dominated by retro styles, fashion is rediscovering the past century, and the solid wood dining table of my great-grandmother finds its way back from the shed to the dining room, this offspring from the blissful Crown Perfumery will likely experience as little of a renaissance as classic hat fashion. And it is precisely this circumstance that makes Crown Rose so fascinating for me.
A common thread that runs through the less objective reviews here on Parfumo is the transportability of perfumes. Good perfumes evoke memories, conjure images, ideas, connotations. This perfume stands out in this regard, especially due to its outdatedness - Crown Rose is time travel in a bottle. Where, if not here, do you find yourself in the long-gone London of venerable colonial gentlemen's clubs, tailors and hat makers, warm, soft, dim gas lanterns and their reflections on the worn, polished cobblestones? This must truly have been the scent of a lady of the world and standing back then. Clean, distinguished, attractively aloof - through the rose-romanticizing retro lens, of course. The London of the late nineteenth century must have been far more filled with soot, covered in grime, blessed with horse droppings, and generally a rather dismal melting pot, but that is another topic, for which there is surely another perfume.
That this fragrance is neither timeless nor in accordance with the times, unfortunately does not only allow the wearer to time travel but also inevitably forces their opinions into rather binary paths. I could not escape this either, only I somehow ended up at the other end of the spectrum.
To finally put the pitiful five times I wore this fragrance into the right context: Male, mid-twenties. In other words, before I am locked away in a rubber room - this fragrance is not worn out there among people - it is worn for oneself, allowed to work, and enjoyed in silence. In that sense, one last wistful spritz of time travel, then the bottle will go into the package.
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