Belgravia Chypre Penhaligon's 2018

Only rarely has a new release from Penhaligon's in recent years received such a unanimous positive echo as Belgravia Chypre. One might even think that only eight years after the perfectly shaped Sartorial, the big, old brand has succeeded in bringing another neo-classic of the highest quality to the field - not a bad rate, which would make the numerous failures and zeitgeisty snapshots of past years seem forgivable. So on the occasion of the transaction in the Souk, I ask the seller (one of the most famous and knowledgeable ladies on Parfumo) about the reason for the sale. The answer is charmingly refused, my judgement should not be influenced. Understandable. So I was all the more curious to find out what could be so offensive about this alleged super fragrance that a deserved perfuma is tempted to say "No, thank you" after 0.5 of the 10 millilitres available. After weeks of tests I have a guess
But first my voice must join the chorus of praise: Belgravia Chypre is remarkable. A thoroughly modern, fruity chypre, yet in the top and bottom notes it breathes such an unmistakably old world that it is a joy to behold. And it is the raspberry note, of all things, that is so hip at the moment, that is the hinge on which the fragrance effortlessly swings back and forth between the 19th and 21st centuries. In connection with the loosened up, never waxy or sultry chypre framework (shimmering flowery, slightly woody, sourly fresh), a peculiarly utopian, cheerful, well-behaved, doll's house retrovintage constellation results, which - at least my imagination - strongly stimulates. The good user Loewenherz already spoke in his review about the London district of Belgravia and the way in which this fragrance depicts its "genius loci". I would only add that he draws a pastel-colored, almost steampunky alternative version of this district. Enter "Belgravia house fronts" in the Google image search and think of a low-flying, brass-studded airship from which a friendly gentleman of indeterminate age with a twirled moustache casually greets you.

It all sounds like at least a 9.5 so far, doesn't it? Indeed, and my 8.5 points, although it sounds strange, are to be taken as disappointed praise. Because the scent loses its magic and substance towards the back or the bottom. As with so many contemporary compositions, a slightly pointed, synthetic-smelling, common woodiness increasingly pushes its way into the picture from about the middle of the fragrance's course, which does not devalue what has gone before, but makes it appear questionable and strangely hollow in its construction: Were the walls of the houses only facades? Were the suits and Sunday dresses by Zalando? Does the airship even hang from nylon threads? That sounds more esoteric than it is: In retrospect, Belgravia Chypre really does give me the impression that everything was designed on a base that was used to create a certain effect right down to the top note. This impression upsets me noticeably and makes me want to commission Fabrice Pellegrin with a reformulation without budget limits; a kind of "Belgravia Chypre - Premium Edition", so to speak.

Despite all its limitations, Penhaligon's is to be praised for having the courage to launch such a peculiar, yet timeless and out-of-time fragrance. And if the new series of "Downton Abbey" creators called "Belgravia" hadn't just been launched this year: According to the trailers, this fragrance could have been the inspiration for all of them.