Oh my god? Oh my god. Ohhh my gooood. I can't stop sniffing my wrists. I am trying to work at my actual job and every time I move my arm to reach for something on my desk, I get a whiff and am immediately distracted. Arpege is pretty; achingly, achingly pretty.
I have a black bottle, gold cap; no idea when it's from, but definitely not proper vintage. First blast is heavy on the aldehydes, maybe even edging toward funeral home with all the white flowers and musk. If your chemistry is wrong for it, I can easily imagine it being a scrubber at first blush.
But if you give it a chance, and the vibes are right, it quickly settles down into something soft, dreamy and elegant.
Smooth, warm, creamy, like honeysuckle on a breezy summer night without any cloying stickiness. The fruitiness is subtle, which is lovely since my chemistry doesn't generally play well with peach even when brightened by citrus. This is a well worn wooden trinket box, holding a vintage powder puff, sitting on a vanity with a bouquet of fresh flowers. There's enough trace of clean soap and sprinkling of gentle spice that it's almost unisex on me? It could definitely layer well with something a bit more masculine to draw out those elements, provided you're brave enough.
Androgynous, enigmatic sex symbol Greta Garbo reportedly wore Arpege. I can believe it. I would absolutely follow her around a party if she smelled like this, in a state of enraptured bisexual confusion about whether I wanted to be her or to be with her. If the older formulation is even better...I can't imagine how she ever managed to get a moment to herself.
-- This review previously appeared on another site under the name "PrincessPrickleson." That's me! I'm moving my collection to Parfumo.
