Angélique Noire Guerlain 2005

So, can someone please explain what exactly constitutes "noir" in perfumery, anyway? This is a rhetorical question, by the way, because, not being an idiot, I can clearly see that this word has devolved into nothing more than an empty promise of a marketing gimmick: if you're a corporate perfume executive charged with taking another thin, synthetically sweet, over-priced, slightly vanillic light floral to market and you need to generate interest, just insert the word "noir" into the name. Can you blame them really? When your competition is a sea of sameness, you've got to use every trick at your disposal.

Here, as with the recently released Coco Noir, it's noir in name only.

Angelique Noir is not a bad fragrance, but it belongs in a $40 bottle with some other designer's name on it, not in a $240 bottle at the Guerlain counter at Neiman Marcus.

P.S.: I just realized that the drydown (which happens quickly) reminds me of L de Lolita. Add a tart floral note to L de Lolita and voila, a close approximation to Angelique Noir.

As a long-time fan of the Guerlain classics, I have tried to keep the faith, but I must say that their string of plasticky quasi-gourmands do not work at all for me.

ANGELIQUE NOIRE begins with such beauty and grace as a vanilla floral that I was sure I loved. Until, that is, it developed to the drydown, where once again, as in INSOLENCE and IRIS GANACHE, the dreaded plastic crept in.

IMNSHO, there is something awry with the idea of plastic mixed with edible elements. It reminds me of the time when I was making a batch of cookies that required a boiling of sugar, cocoa, butter, and milk for a full two minutes. I accidentally dropped the cocoa bag in the boiling concoction, and the edges of the plastic immediately disintegrated before I could fish the remains out. I couldn't decide whether to toss the batch out, especially given that these sorts of things apparently happen all the time unbeknownst to us in restaurants, factories, etc...

But I do not want to *perceive* the plastic in my gourmand delights! ANGELIQUE NOIRE is too gourmand to be rolling in a plastic note and causing me to wonder whether I should throw the whole batch out.

For the past four years I have obsessed over and lauded Angélique Noire. I received it as a sample and saved up for a bottle to call my own. It was the first bottle for which I ever needed to save up; prior to that I was okay with capping my perfume budget to $40 and under. This time, though, money was not going to come between my beloved and me. So why did I set this personal precedent?

Angélique Noire’s inimitability is in its whimsical green nature. Make no mistake: this is an Oriental Vanilla but it isn’t of the typical sort. Here is a rich vanilla nestled in a deep woods. There is dark greenery and something mildly sugary but nothing so exaggerated. I’ve likened this to The Mad Hatter’s Tea Party, where quirky outdoor happenings are transpiring and vanilla buttercream cake is being served. If any scent could be described as adorkable this is it.

I have always loved vanilla. I’ve loved it as a flavor and as a scent. However, if I was being honest with myself, I thought there was only a finite amount of ways to present vanilla in perfume form. Further, I thought vanilla was only limited to smelling like the spice rack staple and nothing more. With Angélique Noire I learned that vanilla could be altered in such a way that it could be instantly recognizable but entirely unique. I tried in vain to find something similar but I’ve yet to find its equal. I was forced to accept and pay its asking price. I’d be happy to do the same again.

Let’s get this out of the way: I’m not generally a fan of vanilla. Too sweet, too heavy, too much, too blergh. But this kept coming up in recommendations for a non-sweet vanilla fragrance, so I thought I’d give it a shot.

I was unfamiliar with angelica as a note, which as it turns out has something of a muted green vaguely-herbal-but-not-harsh bitterness scent to my nose. Combined with the cedar, the entire composition smells like I’ve walked into a fairytale forest where the trees are made of a deep, pure vanilla.

And that vanilla? It’s good. REALLY good.

Guerlain seldom fails to impress with blending and balance, and this is no exception. The angelica fades after an hour or so, leaving warm cedar and rich vanilla for the rest of its wear, but it never becomes too woody or too sweet, just refined yet cosy elegance. If you aren’t a fan of pink pepper, don’t stress — I didn’t even pick up on it.

I’m not sure yet if I’d want a full bottle, but a 10ml decant is almost certainly in my future.

Projection and longevity are on the high end. Gender is fantasy woodland fae.

I first tested this when I was just starting out with my obsession for collecting perfumes. I wasn't too keen on the sharp greenness of the Angelica note, but decided to keep my sample and put it away. At that time I’d only tested it on my wrist and felt it was too much for me to wear, so I opted to buy Spiritueuse Double Vanille which I adore. Since then I have tested so many fragrances, and my taste has evolved, so I decided to give this another chance. This time I wore it as I would any other perfume.

Angelique Noire is highly rated for a reason. The sharpness of the Angelica note doesn’t last long, but actually I really quite like it. It’s fresh, herbaceous, uplifting, inviting and quite comforting. Once the sharpness subsides, the scent becomes smoother. What you are left with is an exquisite, unique, sophisticated, sexy, boss lady vanilla! The scent bubble this creates around you is just stunning. I actually find myself craving this scent at the moment and ended up purchasing a full bottle. It’s addictive! This is anything but boring. It’s a masterpiece!