Ellenisia Penhaligon's 2004

Penhaligon's Ellenisia is one of those beautiful, Spring-appropriate florals. It's mostly a white floral, however there are some subtle, zesty fruit accords which add to this fragrance's freshness and complexity.

Luscious, green and dewy gardenia blossoms feature as the headline act in Ellenisia. Sweetness and a subtle hint of creaminess is also provided by the jasmine and tuberose. At first sniff, I swear I could detect a juicy pear accord intermingling with the white florals. I stick by that assumption as I am still able to smell it alongside the zesty mandarin note.

On paper, Ellenisia smells very pure and watery, however on skin, (mine in particular), this fragrance is much greener and sparkling. It's a scent that bursts with life and vivacity.

Ellenisia is a rather polite and elegant fragrance, nothing overtly sensual or bold. Penhaligon's has a certain style and feel, which conjures up an image of refined English ladies at a tea party. I quite like its quaint and traditional approach, and while I can't say that Ellenisia is entirely original, it certainly does stand out amongst the modern fragrances of today.

The longevity could have perhaps been a little more lasting on the skin, as I had been really enjoying the beautiful bouquet until its premature departure. I'm surprised to see that Ellenisia is an EDP, as the way it sat on my skin was more like a less concentrated and subtle EDT.

If you are in search of a natural smelling white floral, one with a dominant gardenia accord, I do highly recommend Ellenisia. However for better longevity and more bang for your buck, I'm afraid I will have to point you in the direction of either Kai or Chanel Gardenia.

Ellenisia by Penhaligon’s is a rich yet discreet floral scent quite on the white-green-sweet side with a watercolour rose heart, somehow quite conventional but really pleasant and pleasantly “British” as regards of its soapy, slightly nostalgic sense of refinement, as much classy as restrained. Plus, it also feels quite youthful and lively, albeit a bit melancholic – shortly nothing outdated or too formal/mature. Some metallic-camphorous nuances “ruin” a bit the romanticism here, but they’re subtle: what you get is mostly jasmine (quite clean, nothing indolic), sandalwood, something greenish providing a crisp and crunchy “leafy” feel (think it is that “violet leaves” note), resins, and a really quiet but dense tuberose note - don’t expect any headache-inducing note, it is there more just to add an earthy stout vein to the floral accord. The evolution is quick and well, much “evolving”, as it passes through different stages – at some point it almost feels an osmanthus-fruity-tea note emerges, then it all goes back to greenish-white territories, finally drifting towards earthier-camphoraceous nuances. Overall a totally solid and compelling fragrance, really elegant, clean, sharp and to me, perfectly composed and with totally good materials, as far as I can tell. The persistence is good and vibrant, with a subtle “carnal” feel but with a Victorian mood – a pale, restrained, pulsating yet “bourgeois” kind of carnal (shortly, a bit frigid, no offense). Cold and luminous like a London garden in mid-March, with clouds coming and going. Nice!

7,5-8/10

Hello white flowers! Ellenisia opens with jasmine and sweet tuberose, followed by rose. Maybe a hint of orange, but just a hint. A wonderful mix of flowers with a sweet, honeyed facet. Nice, bold and full of life. It gives you a joyful mood. It feels like you are in a garden full of white flowers where their fragrances intertwine and create a divine odour. An odour of joy, a life full of happiness.
The base has a bitterness probably due to the plum, but is still very nice and sweet.
If you are into florals, especially white florals, this one is a try. It has good projection and longevity.

Quietly and gently, Ellenisia has sneaked into my heart and secured a firm place there.

I tried it by chance and sniffed it on my wrist all day long...
The next day I went back and took it with me....

Nothing here is loud or lavish, nothing is pretentious or attention-seeking.

A fruity beginning, not too sweet and not too bitter, a little hidden violet looking up at the spring sky with big eyes, a gentle hint of jasmine, gardenia, and roses, but so delicate that nothing feels overwhelming.
Ellenisia smells lovely for several hours - simply dreamily beautiful.
Then later, a slightly sweeter and warmer note comes in - the nectar and vanilla spread their arms.

Nothing here is excessive or shrill, nothing is bitter, nothing is sweet.

Ellenisia is a dream.

Delicate - like a fleeting kiss.

Gentle - like the loving hands of a mother.

Soft - like a down pillow on which a little elf rests.

Lovely - like the laughter of happy children.

But the best part is - some dreams come true - this one is called Ellenisia.

is undoubtedly the most famous of all (at least partially) German fairy tale films - and an incredible forty-four years old. Based on the version by the Bohemian writer Božena Nemcová, it varies the more popular version in this country a bit: Cinderella can ride and shoot and is neither gifted by a little bird (as in the Brothers Grimm) nor by a good fairy (as in Charles Perrault and - based on that - Walt Disney), but receives those eponymous hazelnuts instead. Originally conceived as a spring film, its shooting schedule was unexpectedly moved to winter - and thus it ultimately became, by chance, THE winter and Christmas film par excellence.

One of the most legendary and magical moments in the film is when Cinderella rides through the blue twilight to the castle on the white horse Nikolaus - to Karel Svoboda's iconic music and in a delicate powder pink dance dress with light blue and intricate silver embroidery, complemented by a matching pink hooded cloak. The landscape - it is in Saxony and not Bohemia, the backdrop of the royal castle is Moritzburg near Dresden - is deeply snow-covered (the Czech actress Libuše Šafránková, who played Cinderella at nineteen, later stated that she was freezing the entire time), and the pink cloak flows gently like a fairy's breath behind the young rider.

Penhaligon's Ellenisia - although English and neither Saxon nor Bohemian and several decades younger - combines the same seemingly contradictory themes as the evening ride to the royal ball: the stillness of the winter landscape and the pink freshness of girlhood. Ellenisia is not a cold fragrance, let alone a distant one, but it does have an initial coolness that serves as a canvas for its delicately playful flowers - flowers that seem a bit old-fashioned but are not outdated. And finally, there is a hint of warmth - like Cinderella's breath as she fogs up a peephole in the frozen window of the ballroom and sees the clownishly made-up Dora dancing inside.

Conclusion: it is both fascinating and comforting that the magic of this comparatively simply made fairy tale film still works today. And when I have Penhaligon's Ellenisia in my nose and gaze into the winter night with half-closed eyes, I almost believe I can see Cinderella riding in the distance under the trees in her pink cloak to the ball...