Patchouli Fragonard 2011

Yes. The best perfume is useless if the sprayer falls apart after two uses. In an attempt to free the precious liquid from its prison, I initially tried in vain to put the broken parts back together. Then I fumbled with the mechanism; for minutes, nothing happened. With a sudden, small breach, about three ml then shot out spontaneously and ran down my hand. Now nothing works again. If I fumble long enough and contort myself sufficiently, the next splash might pour behind my earlobe or at least into my neckline.

But why fight with the sprayer? I don't even want the scent anymore. It was, in the truest, literal sense, a bitter disappointment for my eagerly beating patchouli heart. I really like patchouli!
I'm quite uncomplicated in this regard: it can be subtle, but it doesn't have to be. For me, it can even smell intoxicatingly like the Seventies and hippie sit-ins; I would be in patchouli heaven, taking it all as a welcome time travel, seeing it as art!

Well. I didn't expect that one could rob patchouli of its warmth, that one could essentially strip it of its true soul, no matter how intense it is. Fragonard has managed that: respect!

Patchouli by Fragonard has a clear patchouli scent immediately upon spraying (I could spray twice before the mechanism failed), but it is, despite the strong scent, somehow stripped of itself. I only find a very weak top note of bitter orange and petitgrain, which seem rather unnatural to me. The top note quickly disappears, and I only smell sad patchouli, drained by Dementors, and a lot of sandalwood. Where does that come from? That shouldn't even be in there. So, the sandalwood component, whatever it may have originated from, smells quite nice and natural. The usual base note suspects, musk and cedar, provide warmth and bitterness. A tonka bean might have passed by some months ago. I like all the ingredients, but in this combination, without anything floral and with the weak top note, it develops a very, very masculine and unfortunately flat flair for me. That's too masculine for me. However, I don't want to complain about that, as it shouldn't necessarily be a feminine scent.

I must complain about the disenchanting, cool, and lifeless patchouli.
About the lack of depth, the lack of development.
And about the bottle.

My first scathing review. What a shame.

I always associate patchouli with a very grave, earthy, sometimes cellar-like smell; if I can detect it in a fragrance blend, it's usually too late.
Accordingly, I was quite skeptical before testing this scent, which arrived with many other Fragonard test strips and initially sat around for a while. Now I have finally decided to quickly work through these unloved strips.
Besides Santal, which oddly reminded me of White Suede in a lighter version, I also don't mind the patchouli.
It probably has to do with the fact that it doesn't present the aforementioned attributes.
Top note: a lot of bitter orange, alongside petitgrain and a little ginger, accompanies the patch and creates a bright, airy mood.
In the heart note, rose joins in, bringing a fine floral scent, as well as caraway, which is not listed here but is mentioned by the manufacturer. I had to search online to find out what it is; it seems to be Carum carvi, true caraway, known as cumin in France, but I think it's more likely the caraway, as cumin always develops a sweaty smell on me. However, I can't really perceive the caraway either, probably well integrated.
After about 30 minutes, a very nice musk-tonka nuance comes through, which finally fills me with enthusiasm.
Sometimes the patchouli makes an appearance again, but it always remains within an acceptable range for me.

So far, I have been rather disappointed with the Fragonards, especially since one would expect such scents from a company based in Grasse, the mecca of natural floral fragrances; unfortunately, much of it seemed very synthetic and one-dimensional to me.
The only scent I have known and loved for a long time is Grain de Soleil; I’m probably not the only one.
So I am happy to have finally found a patchouli scent that I can at least imagine wearing.

It's getting dark, I get up from my old bar stool
on my way outside I reach into the fruit bowl.

I hope to refresh myself with the orange
it tastes bitter and not particularly fresh.

By the Asian tea shop, something exotic mixes in.
A slight spiciness and smelling of healthy herbal infusion.
However, the wind carries this scent not far
into my nose.

Still enjoying the pleasant bitterness and spiciness
I am carried by the thick stream of people past a flower shop.
All kinds of roses are being offered. The crowd does not allow
me to perceive more than a note of blooming.

Out of the city.... now the scents of my work reach me.
The oxen are waiting and bravely I set to work for the rest
of this still young day.

Sensibly intoxicated, the work goes well.