Top Notes 
Lavender
Bergamot
Cardamom
Heart Notes 
Iris
Patchouli
Rose
Base Notes 
Cedar
Sandalwood
Cinnamon
Brazilian rosewood
Palonera
467 Reviews
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Palonera
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16
The Moor's Last Sigh
After three undisputed perfume experts have reviewed this scent, it takes a bit of courage for me to humbly share my impressions of the feathered wood, the wooden feather, ;-).
I love Esteban fragrances.
Since my first encounter with them, I have yet to come across one that hasn't touched me in one way or another, at least spoken to me.
"Bois Plume" is no exception and catapults me several years back to Granada, to that city known as "the Moor's last sigh," where the Alhambra awakened in me the desire to be locked in overnight, to have those gardens and that building all to myself for at least a few hours.
Freshness and spice, a coldness that almost seems arrogant and a caressing warmth at the same time, open up a scent on my skin, the pyramid of which I once again find hard to believe is complete - unmistakably, jasmine rises to my nose, not the fine and sweet jasmine that often refines floral compositions, but that strict, domineering, almost intoxicating jasmine, which I have only experienced in this intensity in Granada.
It accompanied me through the Albaicín, the old Moorish neighborhood, and has since been indelibly etched into my scent memory.
In "Bois Plume," before it could become unpleasant, warm and dry wood notes join the jasmine, forming the perfect counterpoint to create a subtly floral, very characterful, and deeply intriguing oddity that seems to choose its wearers, as not everyone will easily befriend it.
For "Bois Plume" is, despite all its warmth, too bitter, too quirky, too angular, and in a certain sense also too wild, too untamed.
It reminds me of the atmosphere of the Cuevas, the gypsy dwellings in the caves of Sacromonte, a district of Granada.
The people who live there are proud, headstrong, and a bit aloof - it takes time to discover their temperament and passion, until they open up and grant access to the gentleness behind the rough facade.
We have been accompanying each other for many hours now, "Bois Plume" and I.
It has become gentler, more affectionate, forming a deep bond with my skin.
They obviously get along well and tell stories of old caravans with their precious woods and spices, of gold and rare essences from a long-lost time.
Only early in the morning does the scent fade away with a final soft sigh...
I love Esteban fragrances.
Since my first encounter with them, I have yet to come across one that hasn't touched me in one way or another, at least spoken to me.
"Bois Plume" is no exception and catapults me several years back to Granada, to that city known as "the Moor's last sigh," where the Alhambra awakened in me the desire to be locked in overnight, to have those gardens and that building all to myself for at least a few hours.
Freshness and spice, a coldness that almost seems arrogant and a caressing warmth at the same time, open up a scent on my skin, the pyramid of which I once again find hard to believe is complete - unmistakably, jasmine rises to my nose, not the fine and sweet jasmine that often refines floral compositions, but that strict, domineering, almost intoxicating jasmine, which I have only experienced in this intensity in Granada.
It accompanied me through the Albaicín, the old Moorish neighborhood, and has since been indelibly etched into my scent memory.
In "Bois Plume," before it could become unpleasant, warm and dry wood notes join the jasmine, forming the perfect counterpoint to create a subtly floral, very characterful, and deeply intriguing oddity that seems to choose its wearers, as not everyone will easily befriend it.
For "Bois Plume" is, despite all its warmth, too bitter, too quirky, too angular, and in a certain sense also too wild, too untamed.
It reminds me of the atmosphere of the Cuevas, the gypsy dwellings in the caves of Sacromonte, a district of Granada.
The people who live there are proud, headstrong, and a bit aloof - it takes time to discover their temperament and passion, until they open up and grant access to the gentleness behind the rough facade.
We have been accompanying each other for many hours now, "Bois Plume" and I.
It has become gentler, more affectionate, forming a deep bond with my skin.
They obviously get along well and tell stories of old caravans with their precious woods and spices, of gold and rare essences from a long-lost time.
Only early in the morning does the scent fade away with a final soft sigh...
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