Shangri La Hiram Green 2022

Version from 2022

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7.6 / 10 91 Ratings

A popular perfume by Hiram Green for women and men, released in 2022. The scent is spicy-fruity. It is still in production.

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Main accords

Spicy

Fruity

Floral

Chypre

Oriental

Fragrance Notes

Peach

Spices

Jasmine

Vetiver

Cinnamon

Oakmoss

Orange

Bergamot

Iris

Lemon

Rose

Perfumer

Hiram Green

Ratings

Scent

7.691 Ratings

Longevity

7.877 Ratings

Sillage

7.577 Ratings

Bottle

8.267 Ratings

Value for money

6.836 Ratings

Submitted by EmergeR, last update on 08/16/2025.

Smells similar

What the fragrance is similar to

Shangri La (2014)

Mitsouko Eau de Parfum

Coco Eau de Toilette

Monopteros

Femme (2014)

Chypre Palatin

Reviews

2 in-depth fragrance descriptions

03/20/2025

7
Sillage 7
Longevity 7
Scent

Raluko111
353 Reviews

Raluko111

1

I prefer the 2014 version.

Thanks to a friend, I got to try both versions of Shangri La, the 2022 vs. the 2014 vs. Mitsuoko. I adore Mitsuoko in all her sweet, earthy, peachy glory, and the 2014 Shangri La comes closer to it than the 2022 version. While Mitsuoko is deeper, heavier and more old-school chypre, the newer version of Shangri La is like its young daughter, a debutante whose social calendar is full of exciting outings with her girlfriends, trips and nights at the club. Shangri La 2022 is a bubbly, sweet peach grounded by the citrus, rose and spices. She is not plagued by deep thoughts like her predecessors. A cooler weather perfume that is a beautiful take on the peach.

01/26/2024

Mlleghoul
450 Reviews

Mlleghoul

6

Shangri-La? Or Boschian Hellscape?

How do I say this without being unkind? Shangri-La from Hiram Green is less lush and harmonious utopian promised land and more a Hieronymus Bosch-envisioned hellish menagerie/paradise, blighted and bedeviled, doomed and damned--all the horror and grandeur and unbridled madness of the cosmos, distilled into one raspingly chaotic scent. The initial blast of overripe, fermented peaches and citrus fruit frizzles acridly at us, trumpeted straight out of a bizarre monster’s glossy pink backside; jasmine’s balmy decay wraps us in a fuzzy, fevered winding-sheet of a golden-throned man-eating bird, to remind us that all is vanity and the pleasures of the flesh are fleeting, and the strangely spiced kisses of a porcine nun linger on your skin like a grotesque memento from a carnival of depravity. In what twisted mind is this a Shangri-La? I think Hiram Green is having one over on us.