Green notes
Grapefruit
Angelica root
Ambrette seed
Bitter orange
Black pepper
French lavender
Persian elemi
Rosemary
Texas cedar10/10/2024
Unterholz
10 Reviews
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Unterholz
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The joyless devil & Angelica
Suppose a stupid shift in reality or whatever were to lead to the absurd situation where the what-if devil knocked on my door and gave me the choice of either giving him my soul or keeping it and choosing just one scent out of all the possible scents to use for the rest of my life - then I would choose Angelica without hesitation. And I, for my part, would laugh in Beelzebub's ugly face and tell him that he could even send the whole composition to hell with the noise and stench of pitch and sulphur if he left me just one single fragrance: Namely the indeed angelic smell of angelica archangelica L.
Lyn Harris' Angelica is - without wishing to diminish this composition and the perfumer's achievement - basically not much more than a deep bow to this fantastic fragrance with its unmistakable aroma of sap-soaked greenness, of stretching shoots, distinguished, earthy, peppery-terpentine, slightly bitter, tart and yet at the same time also of a bitter sweetness, an ethereal brittle loveliness that is second to none - let's just call it the breath of captured light.
The essence (oil) of angelica is primarily obtained from the dried taproot, a medicinal plant known to man since ancient times, which is said to have been used against loss of appetite, stomach complaints and even for abortions. The bitter substances contained in the root have a mildly toxic effect (probably in large quantities) and are also popular ingredients for digestifs, herbal liqueurs, gin and absinthe. Of course, the plant has been attributed a variety of esoteric and magical powers, but these will not be discussed here.
Angelica is a very slender, puritanical perfume - actually not even a perfume, rather just a sculptural fragrance and airy structure, the manifestation of a passing cloudscape, a quotation from nature itself, not even a poem, but just a phrase, a snatch of melody carried by the wind, like someone out for a walk on a windy autumn day and picking up a few chords of piano music from a house, which the wind immediately carries away again. Not without leaving me with a quiet, undefined longing - yes, there is nothing cheerful about this Angelica, it is pure melancholy.
I am - as you have probably noticed - thrilled by this fragrance and I could smell it for hours. The radiantly soluble angelica is quietly supported by a hint of citrus (but really just a hint, grapefruit, possibly hedione?), Cologne-like florality (neroli and/or jasmine, a little tart lavender also seems plausible) and subtle meadow herbs in a sap-green habit. I assume a generous use of moderate green chemicals such as minty stemone and hexenyl or hexenol (grassy-floral notes with citrus tones). I don't consciously perceive cedar or woody notes, but I'm probably a bit "blind" because cedar (especially the slightly "sweaty" Texas cedar) is one of my favorite fragrances, so I often don't really smell it prominently anymore.
It is commendable that the perfumer does not succumb to the temptation to put Angelica in the limelight or even to put the ethereal freshness on a pompous (and unnecessary) pedestal with vanilla or amber complexes. Angelica is not comparable to Guerlain's (also fantastic) "Angélique noire", which I also count among my absolute favorites, but which has more of a perfume quality in the actual sense of a composition. Frédéric Malle's "Angeliques sous la pluie" is closer to this, as is "French Lover" from the same house. Harris' watery collage is even more intimate, even more subdued and more private than Jean-Claude Ellena, for example, would have done.
The projection is very moderate in this fragrance, which seems to have been created mainly from natural and near-natural building blocks. Like many fragrances by the Grasse-trained British perfumer, it is a very intimate, restrained scent that does not seek to please others, but only to merge with its wearer. Sounds almost like some overused marketing yarn? In fact, I am actually allergic to such clichés of fragrance homeopathy, but with many of Lyn Harris' creations this is simply true. On her website (Perfumerh.com) you get a glimpse into this almost private home-office-lab atmosphere that underpins her working methods and this interpretation.
If you think the price for such a restrained perfume is a little high, you can perhaps go one step further and buy a few milliliters of pure angelica essential oil from a good raw materials dealer (attention, again some advertising: Edenbotanicals.com) and enjoy this puristic heavenly odeur without any pretension.
But the devil will have nothing to laugh about.
Lyn Harris' Angelica is - without wishing to diminish this composition and the perfumer's achievement - basically not much more than a deep bow to this fantastic fragrance with its unmistakable aroma of sap-soaked greenness, of stretching shoots, distinguished, earthy, peppery-terpentine, slightly bitter, tart and yet at the same time also of a bitter sweetness, an ethereal brittle loveliness that is second to none - let's just call it the breath of captured light.
The essence (oil) of angelica is primarily obtained from the dried taproot, a medicinal plant known to man since ancient times, which is said to have been used against loss of appetite, stomach complaints and even for abortions. The bitter substances contained in the root have a mildly toxic effect (probably in large quantities) and are also popular ingredients for digestifs, herbal liqueurs, gin and absinthe. Of course, the plant has been attributed a variety of esoteric and magical powers, but these will not be discussed here.
Angelica is a very slender, puritanical perfume - actually not even a perfume, rather just a sculptural fragrance and airy structure, the manifestation of a passing cloudscape, a quotation from nature itself, not even a poem, but just a phrase, a snatch of melody carried by the wind, like someone out for a walk on a windy autumn day and picking up a few chords of piano music from a house, which the wind immediately carries away again. Not without leaving me with a quiet, undefined longing - yes, there is nothing cheerful about this Angelica, it is pure melancholy.
I am - as you have probably noticed - thrilled by this fragrance and I could smell it for hours. The radiantly soluble angelica is quietly supported by a hint of citrus (but really just a hint, grapefruit, possibly hedione?), Cologne-like florality (neroli and/or jasmine, a little tart lavender also seems plausible) and subtle meadow herbs in a sap-green habit. I assume a generous use of moderate green chemicals such as minty stemone and hexenyl or hexenol (grassy-floral notes with citrus tones). I don't consciously perceive cedar or woody notes, but I'm probably a bit "blind" because cedar (especially the slightly "sweaty" Texas cedar) is one of my favorite fragrances, so I often don't really smell it prominently anymore.
It is commendable that the perfumer does not succumb to the temptation to put Angelica in the limelight or even to put the ethereal freshness on a pompous (and unnecessary) pedestal with vanilla or amber complexes. Angelica is not comparable to Guerlain's (also fantastic) "Angélique noire", which I also count among my absolute favorites, but which has more of a perfume quality in the actual sense of a composition. Frédéric Malle's "Angeliques sous la pluie" is closer to this, as is "French Lover" from the same house. Harris' watery collage is even more intimate, even more subdued and more private than Jean-Claude Ellena, for example, would have done.
The projection is very moderate in this fragrance, which seems to have been created mainly from natural and near-natural building blocks. Like many fragrances by the Grasse-trained British perfumer, it is a very intimate, restrained scent that does not seek to please others, but only to merge with its wearer. Sounds almost like some overused marketing yarn? In fact, I am actually allergic to such clichés of fragrance homeopathy, but with many of Lyn Harris' creations this is simply true. On her website (Perfumerh.com) you get a glimpse into this almost private home-office-lab atmosphere that underpins her working methods and this interpretation.
If you think the price for such a restrained perfume is a little high, you can perhaps go one step further and buy a few milliliters of pure angelica essential oil from a good raw materials dealer (attention, again some advertising: Edenbotanicals.com) and enjoy this puristic heavenly odeur without any pretension.
But the devil will have nothing to laugh about.
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