Wander Through the Parks Miller Harris 2018

This is a vibrant fragrance, reminiscent of strolling through a London park and suddenly noticing the wild greenery at your feet.

Its distinctive feature is a subdued, fruity green, woven together with blackcurrant, red berry, and fig. Rather than bursting with freshness, it exudes a down-to-earth presence, with the juiciness of fruit coexisting with the strength of green. Precisely because it's a plant found close by, it doesn't aim for impact, but rather evokes a sense of intimacy, as if nestled right next to it.

What I personally find fascinating is the realistic imagery brought about by its unique green tone. Tuberose, which normally exudes a strong character, here harmonizes beautifully with the milky fig and the bitter-green aroma of galbanum. The tuberose is deliberately inconspicuous, instead serving to highlight the "unique contours" of the nettle stems and leaves. This is a green, fruity fragrance.

This fragrance is so elusive. When I first tried it on my skin, the opening was absolutely beautiful—like taking a walk through a park. It felt fresh, natural, and incredibly pleasant.

As it develops, though, it becomes much deeper and smokier. It's as if, during that walk, you first come across patches of dry grass and then reach a clearing where someone burned a bonfire the day before. The opening is gorgeous, but unfortunately the smoky, dried-grass phase is what stays with me for most of the wearing experience.

I've noticed the same when my partner wears it. In the air, what lingers is mostly that dry, smoky aspect rather than the beautiful opening.

Wow, what a juicy green scent, full of fig leaf, blackberry, and something that smells like stewed rhubarb! It is so wet and dewy that I can imagine sitting on a wooden bench in an English kitchen garden after a downpour, but the door to the kitchen is thrown open and I can smell the delicious bramble pie baking in the oven. There is something so luridly cordial-like about the opening that you kind of suspect that its extreme naturalness will eventually show itself to be a lie. Thankfully, this doesn’t ever happen.

The first time I wore it, I found the tuberose note overbearing and stuffy, like gentile ladies of a certain age sweating gently in a greenhouse. But I’ve worn it several times since and have never interpreted the tuberose note like that again – now I understand its purpose as lending the scent a fleshy ‘hothouse’ feel, i.e., green and vegetal, almost celery like, but also as creamy as gelato. Fig leaf tends to go either pissy or aquatic-rubbery on the skin, and I’d be inclined to say this leans towards the latter. However, it never strays into man’s blue fragrance territory, nor does it copy any other fig leaf perfume I know. It stays firmly in a juicy-green-fruity-naturalistic track. Very good, like a supremely hydrated, almost pulpy version of Ninfeo Mio, and with 100% less cat pee in the drydown.

Strolling through London’s parks is generally a great idea. However, they didn’t provide much refreshment during the recent heat. In the Kensington Gardens, located to the west of Hyde Park, the grass had turned in places into a yellow meadow that resembled a dry savannah.

Holland Park, a mere half-mile west of Hyde Park, has fared no better in recent weeks. Pictures certainly convey an impression of how beautiful it apparently is when something wet occasionally falls from above. Everything seemed much cuter. It’s also more relaxed and quieter; obviously, the area is hardly frequented by tourists - which may be because there are no palaces or memorial sites for Saint Diana located there. It’s a pity that we only got to know this place literally at the last moment and only in part, namely on the day of our departure and under gradually increasing time pressure.

The fragrance is in a hurry as well. Upon spraying, grapefruit and blackcurrant compete to prick the senses, followed by a (initially) hint of fig. Both are quickly overgrown by wonderfully juicy, non-herbaceous green. Nettle fits in perfectly - I can attest to that, as we have plenty of it in our garden. The prickly fruity opening has given way to a pleasant acidity. A successful start.

That the refreshing nettle soon retreats in favor of the less original fig may be logical: which English gardener tolerates nettles? From an aromatic perspective, this is unfortunate, as now, after about an hour, ‘Wander Through The Parks’ has already become a bit lackluster. The fine, sharp acidity has largely succumbed to a sense of generic laboratory fruit, and the initially clear structure blurs into a diffuse fruit-green mush over the course of the morning, gradually supported by a woody base.

The possibly honorable attempts by (aha - I wouldn’t have figured that out on my own) violet leaf and cashmeran to give it some edge unfortunately only lead to a certain bitterness lending the fruit a hint of rot by the afternoon. Ultimately, even that is smothered by the viscous mass - in this case, mercifully. I can no longer discern any subtleties from the now balsamic-creamy puree after the fifth hour. The end presents clean musk.

Conclusion: Holland Park even gets a 9.0 in yellow, while the fragrance remains a good bit below that.

PS: The sample came from the Miller-Harris store in Covent Garden. Next door are shops from Penhaligon’s and Atelier Cologne. A few steps up the street and twice around the corner lies the formidable Bloom Perfumery.

Whenever I see just a review of a fragrance, I feel almost compelled to test whether said fragrance resonates with me or behaves contrary, and if my initial tasting isn’t too positive, I must rush to its "aid." Like in a good debating club, where both sides are given the space to present their arguments, allowing one to form a better opinion. Sure, the comparison is a bit flawed (skin chemistry and personal preferences and all), but somehow I have to justify my crusade for Miller Harris :)

In @Meggis' lovely initial review, "Wander Through The Parks | Miller Harris" came off as somewhat mediocre, but at least we both agree right from the start: it’s good! I get a fresh, tart pomelo, oh grapefruit, well whatever, with a good dose of pepper in my nose and would even pinpoint basil or a similar herb blindfolded. If I didn’t know better, I would think I’m sniffing one of the countless Acqua di Parma versions, it’s so green-citrusy fresh. Please don’t be misled by the 'fruity' in the notes. After all, grapefruit is a fruit too. But sweet-fruity is, at least for me, not at all the case.

All the MH fragrances I’ve tested so far share the trait of not being sillage monsters. Which is absolutely fine by me!

From the yellowish, withered park landscape with a hint of rotten fruit, I see nothing but green. Rather, it’s a perfectly trimmed green English lawn, on the edge of which someone has planted a bed of Mediterranean herbs and a few white flowers. On a wooden bench, a woman wraps herself in a white fluffy blanket (it’s only May, so the wind is still a bit chilly) - does anyone remember the final scene in the movie 'Notting Hill'? Just like that! Sipping the ice-cold homemade orange lemonade (the kind someone poured over my shirt at the beginning), I enjoy the play of light filtering through the leaves of the trees. Oh, that was something, I’m not Julia Roberts after all.

I don’t smell fig, nor tuberose (*ew*) - let’s agree on a delicate white, indefinable cream note. As it develops, the fragrance becomes a tad more feminine in my eyes due to the all-time favorite duo of musk/cashmere, but fundamentally, it’s a great fresh unisex perfume. When in April/May the trees burst into green and nature explodes (let’s quickly ignore the pesky pollen) - that note is beautifully represented here.

Green freshies have one glaring disadvantage: they usually don’t last particularly well/long. Galbanum and the musk/wood trick box don’t help much either. After 3-4 hours, I have to search for the fragrance on my skin, on clothing - as almost always - it’s better. But since I like to wear this type of perfume in spring/summer anyway, I kindly overlook this performance weakness; it’s also well-suited for warmer weather.

PS: And since we were already on London park tips: I recommend Battersea Park south of the Thames. Good Omen fans will even recognize a filming location from the first season ('the bandstand')