Bois d'Olivier & Cade Jeanne en Provence 2011

Juniperus oxycedrus, called vernacular Cade, juniper falls, thorny juniper, thorny cedar, or sharp cedar, is a species of wild juniper. It is native to the Mediterranean region from Morocco and Portugal, from the north to the south of France, from the east to westernmost Iran, and south to Lebanon and Israel. The specific epithet oxycedrus means "sharp cedar," and this species may have been the ancient Greeks' original cedar or cedar. For generations, Provencal shepherds have handed down from father to son the secrets of Cade wood, a symbol of a tenacious character and strong tradition and generosity values. Strictly, Cade Oil is identical to Juniper Tar, got by destructive distillation of the wood from Juniperus oxycedrus. So, it is a dark, orange-brown, aromatic distillate from the bark of this wild tree and has a beautiful smokey aroma reminiscent of a summer campfire. They limit its use in perfumery to situations where a smoky-leathery, woody-phenolic, dry, and warm note is called for. Bois D’Olivier & Cade is a virile fragrance based on the totality of Juniperus oxycedrus. Juniper berries and the associated olfactory note often come from this tree. Still, the whole tree is represented here, from the berries to the coniferous needles; the oil spill from the wood itself is also described in some perfumes as "juniper" instead of juniper berries.

Bois D'Olivier & Cade is a spicy, fougére, woody fragrance with fresh and herbaceous notes, which evokes the arid woods, red earth, and hot stones found in the sunny landscape of the Garriga in the south of France. The opening is lemon zest and apple pulp, beautiful and sharp. There is instantaneously a bit of juniper sweetness in the heart popping up early, but it's not the center of attention. Well, juniper berries are famous for the flavor they give to gin and their antiseptic properties, not here. Instead, the aromatic aspect of lavender leads, rather fragrant and balsamic, made sweeter by a pinch of jasmine flowers. It's a manly start, jerky, a little tart, and a little aromatic, without being too citrusy. And then a powdery accord is there to soften the effect.

According to the official pyramid, olive wood and marine accords combine with juniper berries, and what I get here is the round warmth of the pepper notes not mentioned. The aquatic deal is not salty, similar to seaweed or shells, but more watery and smoky, as if you've poured seawater over a beach bonfire. The dirty notes of patchouli come to me vaguely, perhaps only hinted at to give structure to the heart without becoming the protagonist. And anyway, these reflex chords fold into the juniper wood, which becomes stronger and stronger.

Creamy sandalwood and a small puff of earthy vetiver come out at the end to form the finish. There is a smokiness, woodsy, piney aroma; masculine and rustic, spotless. From the beginning, I perceived a vanilla-like and burnt note, similar to that of charcoal, and I pretend there is a dose of roasted tonka.

Ultimately, it reminds me a lot of Boss' Hugo, not a clone, but something that shares a similar vibe to Boss' DNA. The octagonal-shaped bottle with orange-brown lacquered glass is emblematic of the Jeanne en Provence range for men. Usage time is medium; it lasts a long time on the skin, with a moderate sillage. I would use Bois D'Olivier & Cade in autumn or early spring, where the woody and aromatic themes seem louder on the nose and strictly in a casual sense. For the office, it is not an overbearing scent, so it does not disturb. What can I say? It is another delightful discovery to add to the autumn/winter collection.

I based the review on a 100ml bottle I have owned since November 2020.

-Elysium

In reality this fragrance, if described with the notes reported on Parfumo, would be extremely misleading. It starts with citrus fruits, more bergamot than lemon, followed by a brief passage of juniper (lavender is not perceptible). In a few minutes this first phase disappears completely and you begin to perceive the wood which immediately creates an accord with the not mentioned note of vanilla, but present to the point that after an hour the cedar dominates. I would say it's more on the feminine side. In conclusion this fragrance doesn't even remotely reflect my tastes.

A small spray, and there it is, the cloud, and I exclaim "Oh: masculine." Nothing more, really.

No trace of citrus fruits - they simply belong to a proper top note and fit the image of "Mediterranean." There is something indefinably spicy and woody, let's call it juniper and olive tree, which is also very Mediterranean. Then lavender is missing to place the "Oh" in Provence. I miss it too. In the background, there is something floral wafting, strangely it makes me think of hippie patchouli with a peaty-earthy touch. But that's more Isle of Wight or Islay - oops, associated in the wrong direction, completely wrong...

Conclusion: A beginner's perfume. Simple, strong, and lasting, a lot of scent for little money. Not for the experienced and discerning. They would find it loud and monotonous, perhaps even ordinary, ordinary indeed.

Nefertiti prefers to travel to Provence herself, without Jeanne.

When I got my hands on Bois d’Olivier et Cade (hereafter referred to as BO&Co), I had a fear and a hope. Since there are obviously connections to L’Occitane and the design of the bottle has the charm of an old apothecary flask, I feared that this scent would be a lesser version of “Eau de Cade.”
On the other hand, my hope was that something equally high-quality would emerge.
Neither of these expectations was fulfilled. The creators at Jeanne en Provence probably shared the same concern, and since they were already following a similar design and overall appearance, they had to clearly differentiate themselves in terms of scent.
It took me a while to finally get around to this comment, as I had no real desire for this fragrance and kept postponing the testing. I’m not very fond of sweet scents, and this one is, in my opinion, not just sweet but quite sweet. Well, a promise is a promise, and frankly, it’s easy to say a bit about it.
In my naivety, I expect a fragrance that lists olive wood, juniper, and cedar to have a woody scent, of course, I expect some resin, perhaps even a hint of incense from the cedar, overall a dry-warm, uh, here we go again, wood scent, lightly citrusy.
Far from it. First, a very clichéd sentence to start: “The scent opens with a distinctly citrusy note…” Yes, many fragrances do that, but in this case, the opening is particularly short, not even a full measure. Then the sweet licorice begins. A fruity note emerges, hinting at a pleasant tartness. But then the wood comes through, more or less sweetened. Right from the first time, I had a scent déjà vu. “I know this. I don’t like it, but I know this.”
Coincidentally, I stumbled upon the solution:
A well-known drugstore chain is currently offering “Sun Men” (here briefly SM) by Jil Sander at a bargain price, whether because the “Organization of Perfume Expanding Countries” (OPEC) wants to launch a diluted version or because a rival perfume mafia thinks this sun has shone long enough on men, anyway, something must have clicked for me, and I sprayed some on my wrist (at sunset, of course) in my youthful folly. Immediately, I realized that the “citrusy opening” in SM is significantly more elegant and also longer-lasting. But that’s already the most interesting part. And even that is still too short in BO&Co, in the literal sense.
How it continues reveals to me that Jil Sander visited dear friend Jeanne in Grasse a few years ago to explain how to step out of the shadow of L’Occitane: Jil, contrary to her usual nature, talked a lot, and Jeanne, with all the coffee and liqueur, forgot to write everything down precisely. However, Jil said, one could certainly put a lot of Sun Men in the bottle, as no one expects anything like that from the packaging anyway. Coconut, of course, doesn’t quite work in the southern French province either. “Let’s skip that and just write olive wood instead; no one knows what that actually smells like.” The hardest part is the beginning, as that’s the bait with which you catch the perfume mice. If that doesn’t work, just add sweetness right away; it knocks everything down. Besides, L’Occitane doesn’t make it that sweet, so we also gain the necessary distinction.
What is lacking in the citrusy opening is compensated for by sweetness.
Dear readers, what actually makes fragrances sweet? Nothing in this list presented here smells sweet in and of itself, and on the other hand, I have the feeling, like with sugar or sweeteners in food, that the principle of sweetness is always the same. Which olfactory sugar makes fragrances sweet? Tell me, so I can steer clear of it; I don’t want to get a stuffy nose.
How it continues could just as well be written for Sun Men; in any case, after several hours, I’m very glad I haven’t lost track of my two wrists, as the two fragrances hardly differ anymore.
Jil and Jeanne certainly had a fun and long evening, and I still have a whole bottle of BO&Co.

We know that good things don't have to be expensive, but for a household giant like Procter & Gamble to release overpriced and mostly insignificant fragrances is nothing short of outrageous and a scam against customers.

Jeanne en Provence takes a completely different approach. Here, in addition to a beautiful nostalgic packaging and bottle design, more value is placed on the content than at the laundry powder giant.
Even the spray nozzle is stamped with the insignia of Jeanne en Provence; everything else also feels high-quality.
However, since we value the content more than the appearance, I will start from the beginning.

I have already commented on Jeanne en Provence Mandarine & Cedrat and found a fragrance twin from L'Occitane.
Whether I also sense a fragrance twin with Bois d'Olivier & Cade remains to be seen.

According to good contacts, I was able to find out that the brand Jeanne en Provence was founded by a former L'Occitane sales employee and friend of Olivier Bousson, the founder of L'Occitane.
This tip was given to me by a certified L'Occitane shop, and the quality corresponds almost to L'Occitane level.

Now to the fragrance:

Upon first application to the skin, the fragrance exudes a hint of bergamot and cedar.
I was a bit surprised; in the top note, which lasts only a few minutes, there is a trace of 1 Million and Hugo Boss Bottled.
That's a good thing, as 1 Million can be smelled almost on every corner, while Boss Bottled is not bad, but I'm not a fan of Procter & Gamble.

Fortunately, like a chameleon, it transforms into a fine olive wood note that smells of rubber or latex.
The juniper is very intense and lingers on the skin for several hours. Only with direct nose contact does this pleasant rubber note emerge for me, reminiscent of brand new car tires.

Conclusion:

If you're fed up with being led around by the nose by Procter & Gamble, you should take a look at the fragrances from Jeanne en Provence.
Unlike P&G, the French offer much more for significantly less, allowing you to stand out from the mainstream without advertising and flashbulbs!