Superstitious Editions de Parfums Frédéric Malle 2017 Eau de Parfum

Superstitious opens with an airy rose, supported by soapy aldehydes. Moving to the early heart the soapy aldehydic-laden rose deepens, as it is joined by slightly bracing peach, smooth woody incense, and relatively sanitized jasmine, as hints of underlying woody vetiver peep through from the base. During the late dry-down the jasmine, incense and rose gradually vacate, first leaving the peach to couple with the sharp, woody vetiver and the remnants of the incense, before finally giving way to a vetiver and dry amber base tandem that finishes off the composition's relatively lengthy life-cycle. Projection is very good to excellent, and longevity is outstanding at over 15 hours on skin.

The past year or two have been tough for this reviewer. The perfume releases have not gotten any less numerous, but the quality and effort found in most of what was sniffed just wasn't there. As a result, there really hasn't been anything on the market that could inspire this writer to want to put any effort in posting a review. Enter Superstitious, composed by the great Dominique Ropion for the equally great Frederic Malle...

When I received early word of Superstitious' release I had to take note as most times Ropion and Malle come together for a release it is something special, and luckily, Superstitious does not disappoint.

Immediately when applied on skin the rose comes through, so light and airy. Some reviews I have read compare the rose to Portrait of a Lady, but I respectfully disagree. The rose in Portrait of a Lady is a lush, jammy rose that is the near polar opposite of the kind used here. This is a much more fluid rose that couples better in this implementation with the soapy aldehydes and the slightly bracing peach. Speaking of aldehydes and peach, I was a bit leery when I heard the composition might focus on them as neither have been favorites of mine in past compositions, but Ropion skillfully handles both by first presenting the soapy side of the aldehydes that is very different from their presentation in key legendary compositions like Chanel No. 5, while balancing the peach with fine, sanitized jasmine and clean woody incense. By the time the composition morphs into its sharp, woody vetiver-centric late dry-down it is hard not to be hooked. The end result is a modern perfume that reaches back to the past greats and feels right at home beside them.

The bottom line is the $370 per 100ml bottle Superstitious is living proof that Dominique Ropion is at his best when directed by Frederic Malle, and that neither has lost their magic touch, earning an outstanding 4 to 4.5 stars out of 5 rating and an easy recommendation from this writer who has had his interest in perfume renewed.

Superstitious is like a woman that walks into a party wearing a gold lame dress that plunges to her navel. Like everyone else in the room, you think she's gorgeous, but you're not sure if she's really your kind of people. I'm not sure I understand her yet, so I'm going to circle this interesting creature a little bit longer while I try to figure her out.

People are citing all manner of classic perfumes as reference: Arpege, Gold, even Portrait of a Lady. But none of those references help me place her in my mental pantheon of smells. Superstitious strikes me as more a modern cyborg than something classical or referential.
Something that takes me aback is the astringency of the opening: it's as metallic and bitter as a mouthful of pennies, sluiced with the acid of unripe fruit. Sensation-wise, it reminds me of biting into a persimmon that's two weeks away from becoming perfect, ripping all moisture from my mouth.

Not all aldehydes smell or feel the same. Some feel loose and creamy, like those at the top of Chanel No. 22 - the fizz of a can of Fanta mixed into a pot of Pond's Cold Cream. Some feel tight and lemony, like Tauer's Noontide Petals. The aldehydes of Superstitious, on the other hand, are extremely fine-grained and waxy, like a bar of green soap put through a microplane grater and blown up your nose. It reminds me somewhat of the opening to Seyrig by Bruno Fazzolari. The onslaught is aggressive, and slightly mean.

What's amazing about this fragrance - and I say this even before figuring out whether I like it or not - is how the clean, chemical bite of the aldehydes have been balanced out by the dirty, botanical impression of flowers. Even in the first onslaught of the perfume's harsh, soapy green fuzz, you can smell the slightly unclean jasmine wilting and browning, as if about to drop off a vine and into your lap. This produces an effect that is half synthetic, half naturalistic. You can almost imagine the perfumer muttering to himself as he works out the formula, 'a little bit from the lab, and now a little bit from the garden'.

The quality of the florals is amazing - there is a Turkish rose, jasmine from Grasse, and a hint of dry peach skin a la Mitsouko in the later stages. But put aside expectations of sweetness, or even density. Even with the late addition of the peach, things stay dry, leathery, and slightly sour, like the inside of the strap of your watch after a long hot day, or the taste of a very dry, metallic white wine on the back of the tongue.

Which is a way of saying that although all signs point to lushness, this is not a particularly lush perfume. Being a longtime fan of Alber Elbaz and his work for Lanvin, I had expectations of something with as many dangerous curves as his midnight blue and flesh-colored dresses for this house in the 2008-2009 period. Alber himself is (was - RIP) round; is it weird that I was expecting a perfume with his name on it to be round too? But Superstitious turns out to be as chicly angular as one of his models.

The drydown is a slightly smoky, raspy base of vetiver and woods that somehow reads to my nose as incense. It is slightly sweeter, or at least, less tart in the far reaches of the scent, and I find it comforting. Superstitious is a very interesting, beautiful, and somewhat challenging perfume. It is perhaps easier to admire than to love, because a certain bitchiness inherent in its character suggests that this is a perfume that might not love you back. But despite a certain lack of easy access here, I really do like Superstitious, not least because it turns my expectations on their head. Expecting lush and sweet, I get angular and tart. Expecting classic, I get modern. Most of all, I admire the perfume's sublime balance between its metallic, chemical shimmer and its unclean, slightly earthy flowers and fruit.

Superstitious blurs the lines between familiar and new. Initially as I wore this, I thought it was almost a copy of vintage Arpege, but as it bloomed on my skin I began to understand why this was packaged and named the way it is.

As weird as it sounds the accord formed by the aldehydes and incense notes in this remind me of a road flare: unbearably bright/glaring at first, then an alert ominous glow and then finally subdued and smokey suggestive of past danger. At the dry down they smell like a cathedral full of snuffed out candles. The initial metallic blast is now a shadowy veil over the rest of the composition. The lush rose and jasmine no longer shimmer but are made darker, deeper by the warmth of the hazy-waxy-smokiness of the dying aldehydes pared with the incense and chypre base. In this context, the rich blackness of the bottle adorned with only the suggestion of God's gilded, all-seeing eye makes a lot more sense.

Superstitious is a darker sister of No22 and in the same way that many who love No22 are wholly devoted to it, I can imagine this being many people's one and only.

If I were forced to pick one scent to show and explain perfume to someone who had never encountered perfume before, this might be the one.

Superstitious is a perfume to live your life wearing.

*edited for spelling and grammar

The first perfume by Frederic Malle that i have tried (and still my favourite one) was carnal flower. I tried It two years ago and i felt in LOVE instantly. The same day i tried other different Malle perfumes like promises, musc ravageur and... Superstitious... But i didt pay any attention on It.

The i could have a Closer relationship with this brand. I began yo LOVE musc ravageur, música for a while and promise (but nothing to do with superstitious because It smelt for me like the perfume that my grandmother used yo wear when i was a child... This is a grandma's perfume; i thought for myselft everytimw i have tried It)...

But with the time i began yo like It more and more, and everytimw i spray It i falla on LOVE with It a little bit more. I dont know if nowaday i could say It is my favourite one ofnthe collection (carnal flower is a very strong contestant) but if not, It is for sure the second!

I LOVE the aldehides here, the rose and the fantastic Jasmín. For me superstitious means puré class! But this is not a perfume for all, even not a perfume that you Will like the first time you try It or a compliments getter... But when you learn how to LOVE It, you fall un LOVE without any doubt.

Performance is great like in most FM perfumes, overall the ones done by Dominique ropion, but at the same time is very unisex and weareable! A nice option for vintage elegance seakers!

Scent: 9.5
Longevity: 10
Sillage: 8.5
Quality/price: 6
Versatility: 8
Originality: 8
Global: 9.5

A collaboration between Malle and Elbaz, executed by Dominique Ropion? Now I’m really curious.
(And yes, I am superstitious too, but I would still go out on a Friday the 13th, it’s not that bad.)
Whose handwriting is the decisive one? Monsieur Ropion has been partly responsible for some of my mainstream favorites over the years, but nothing from Malle has really stuck with me despite my sympathy, and I first noticed Elbaz when he collaborated with Lancôme, but only in terms of decorative cosmetics, so I can't really judge that, even if I interpret several borrowings from Ropion's earlier mega-successes into "Superstitious."
What looms over all this back-and-forth pondering is the power and aura of this fragrance.
These attributes remind me very much of the powerhouses of the 80s, where Ropion has already achieved great things, and Superstitious is again a big deal:
The top note is so intensely floral that I flinch, as I am not a fan of floral scents. But relief, it’s “only” jasmine that is so dominant here, and I like that. It doesn’t get much more jasmine than this; the dose is already hard on the edge of being breath-taking. But just before the limit, the fragrance veers onto a darker path, becoming heavier but also soapier and creamier. A contradiction? Not at all. A clean, soft patchouli note stands out positively.
Patchouli is also a nemesis of mine, but this one is 1. pleasantly clean, not emo; and 2. here to stay. Very beautiful and very self-assured. Strangely, I think of the 80s again, not in terms of patch, but of the classic chypres, not least Knowing by Estee Lauder.
Only after hours does a powdery rose develop, which accompanies the fragrance until it fades away. Again, a super beautiful addition, even for non-rose fans like me.
This fragrance is so much more than the sum of its parts, as these would normally have kept me from testing it. But the fuss surrounding its launch made me curious.
I regret nothing. It is worth the money.