Iris Poudre Editions de Parfums Frédéric Malle 2000

Iris Poudre has been compared to Chanel No.5 more often than I care to remember, but save for the fact that they are both intensely aldehylic florals, the resemblance stops there.
Iris Poudre is a timid, subtle fragrance, slow to develop and unlike No.5 which smells instantly recognizable on any skin to any nose, it does a fantastic job in using the wearer's chemistry to become a very personal and unique fragrance.
On a friend of mine, I.P is all carnation and iris. But on me, it's Iris, Musk and Sandalwood.
The scent starts out cool and reserved, and for many, stays linear the whole time. On my skin, it's a blast of aldehydes that settle into a powdery veil and very, very slowly warms up throughout the day.
Reminiscent of a cool, overcast day with gusts of warm, balmy air, a bit like the weather pattern precursor to an evening storm.
Beautiful and introverted.

Despite the name, Iris Poudre is neither very powdery nor very iris-heavy. Boy, it's beautiful, though. Wearing it feels like a celebration. It envelops the wearer in a white, balmy, creamy cloud of aldehydes and sweet flower petals, with subtle hints of a cool, floral iris glinting like pearls threaded into layers of white tulle. When I wear it, I feel like I'm ten again, digging through my mother's clothes and playing dress-up with her costume jewelry.

The sweetness, almost like honey or amber, hiding behind the skirts of Iris Poudre always takes me by surprise. It is a sugared cream wave that gathers force and builds behind the thin wall of glittering aldehydes, and when it breaks, together they create that balmy, pearlescent cloud of scent particles that moves with your body like a shoal of tiny silver fish.

And yet, inside the lift of aldehydes, I sense something chemically abrasive and woody that tugs against the creamy, bland perfection of the scent. It's not unpleasant, and in fact, it makes the scent all the more interesting to me. It is not, as I first thought, the natural sharpness of soap, but rather the pressurized air just released from pulling a tab on a can of soda (after shaking) - that same unbridled, expectant air of 'something is about to happen' that I get from Chanel No. 22 and Baghari, both scents to which Iris Poudre may be compared.

Hats off to Frederic Malle for creating the most beautiful, diaphanous, feminine iris I have smelled so far. My nose is grateful for the privilege. This iris is cool and sunny, full of flowers, but make no mistake, the iris is the dominant note, the Queen of them all. The powdery aspect is just right, pitched to perfection to avoid the dry and harsh metalic mortuary sensation that bothered me in other iris forward fragrances like Iris Silver Mist (Lutens) or the chemical aftertaste in Splendiris (Dusita) and Lightscape (Ulrich Lang). Nor is this iris too ephemere or soft-spoken like Hiris (Hermes) or Prada's L'Infusion. Iris Poudre is perfection personified, and I can even understand and respect that price tag.

There is more than one way for a fragrance to smell clean.

Iris Poudre doesn’t remind me of fresh laundry, soap or anything particularly sterile. Its cleanliness feels more luxurious than that.

It reminds me of walking into an elegant hotel.

Everything feels polished, immaculate and expensive without you necessarily being able to point to one specific thing creating that impression.

The opening is dominated by aldehydes, and interestingly, for the first thirty minutes or so, something about Iris Poudre actually reminds me of a much more masculine fragrance: Great Britain.

The resemblance doesn’t remain throughout the development, but I notice it almost every time.

Once the opening settles, the character of Iris Poudre becomes much clearer. Iris and violet create that beautiful purple, powdery feeling I love, while the aldehydes and musk keep everything clean, airy and refined.

Anyone who loves powdery, clean iris fragrances should absolutely experience this one.

When it comes to gender, I definitely see Iris Poudre as more feminine than masculine. A man can absolutely wear it - I have worn it several times myself - but personally, I think this composition would smell even more beautiful and flattering on a woman.

So yes, technically I would still call it unisex, but if I had to choose which side it suits better, for me, this one belongs to the women.

Performance is probably its weakest point.

Longevity is reasonable, but the projection is fairly restrained and stays closer to the skin than I would ideally like.

Then again, perhaps a fragrance with this personality doesn’t need to fill an entire room.

Iris Poudre smells like cleanliness after it checked into a five-star hotel.

The opening is a little non-descript. Quite sharp, high on the citrus, makes your nostrils itch a bit. The rosewood creates a much needed cloud of softness. The mid is cute. The real star of the show is the dry down.

Just when you have forgotten the fragrance was on you, a whiff, a soft pale iris haze will emanate from the spray site. It will take the breath from your lips and replace it with a dusting of sandalwoods and old fur. This is quietly luxurious. The amber, musk and vanilla lend this concoction a refined warmth against the noble iris. It is lovely.

Edit to update: It is not what one would describe as beast mode, but nor is it intimate. It’s a gentle scent that will come and go, playing coy with you and your senses. It does last, a great amount of time. Since wearing it at 2pm to now, (3am) I can still detect the remnants without having to press my nose to my skin (quite difficult as I sprayed my shoulders). This was a blind buy for me (just the wee 10ml), I love iris so felt that this was safe. As lovely as it is, I’m in no rush to buy a full bottle. I’m quite happy with my travel glass as I try to reorganise my collection.