Coton Egyptien Phaedon 2012

This fragrance did nothing for me. The top of it was a noseful of alcohol, which devolved pretty quickly into a sharp, baby powder smell that did not compare favorably to a drugstore smell-alike -- Love's Baby Soft. Finally I got a quick hit of laundry musk. Then it was gone -- mercifully.

Such a striking bold blue bottle from an ultra niche exclusive house, I'll admit, I had pretty high expectations for Coton Egyptien by Phaedon. I was nearly ready to unzip my purse and bare my wallet, purely based on the perceived compatibility of its online profile, fool that I am.
Before I explain my sampling experience with this fragrance, indulge me in a little background information, please. As a winemaker, the bane of my existence is Cabernet Franc, which grows robustly and prolifically in my region, but produces some of the most daunting and harsh wines when not blended with less aggressive varieties. One of the main issues with this grape is its unique ability to produce aromas of green bell pepper along with a bizarre array of other notes such as violets, tobacco, raspberry and cassis. The resulting discord between the green bell pepper and the soft sweetness of fruits and even powdery flower notes is often times unbearable. Cab. Franc was rarely sold as a stand alone wine until recently in the US. Now that some Americans have become a little more sophisticated and comfortable with drinking wine it's become hip to ferment unique solifruit varieties- let the green peppers, fruits and flowers unite, throw a snazzy label on a blue glass bottle and someone will buy it! This is exactly the problem I have with Coton Egyptien. This fragrance has been high up on my test list for a year, only rumors of its impending discontinued production drove me to get a sample, A.S.A.P., incase it ended up being my one true love. I just mentioned true love intentionally, I'll get back to that in just a second...

With some of my favorite notes Galbanum, musk and cotton...what could go wrong? Well, let me see, Coton Egyptian is a split personality fragrance that is having a disturbing and public confrontation for all to smell. There are two main streams of consciousness occurring here each trying to drown the other out. First there is a bracing harsh masculine green bell pepper and bitter dandelion stems greens. Perhaps this harsh green bell pepper/capsicum note is the result of unrestrained galbanum, but still the effect in this composition is nothing remotely like the lush grassy soothing galbanum in Chloe's Eau de Fleurs Capucine, one of my new favorites in the hot lazy Dog days of Summer afternoons in August.

Coton Egyptien's strident green bell pepper opening is underscored by a smooth soft pretty little girl's floral musk, with a little bit of that baby oiliness I find in Elizabeth Arden's True Love, but also very similar to Laurence Dumont's tender Musc Blanc. While I happen to like the bite and flavor of fresh green bell peppers and I also like Laurence Dumont's Musc Blanc on occasion...the discord created by tossing these two aromas together is confused and wretched, IMHO.

After about 2 hours the green bell pepper/capsicum note dwindles and a thin, barely perceptible powdery sweet white musk note remains for another hour. The whole poorly executed show is over within about 3-4 hours on my skin, thankfully. Finally...Coton Egyptien is a completely, absurdly non sequitor name for this fragrance which is neither cotton-like nor reminiscent of anything that I ever experienced in Egypt. Every once in a great while, I have to concur with a house's decision to discontinue a fragrance; let's just chalk this up to a bad vintage and move on.

Recently, a marketing expert appeared on television, describing the always similar patterns of somewhat adventurous stories and promises that reliably boost the sales of 'superfoods' (doesn't that remind us of something...?). The reporter's incredulous question about whether it was really that simple was met with the catchy statement: "In marketing, blunt is still trump!"

As is well known, other clichés are also very successful. My (twelve-year-old, she is thus partially excused...) daughter often emphasizes a pressing desire to buy something by pointing out that it is a "limited edition." Usually, it concerns objectified spin-offs of temporary YouTube celebrities. There seems to be a whole bunch of ladies who manage to market all kinds of nonsense online, through advertising with and without 'sneaky-' in a remarkably fluid manner. This world was completely hidden from me until about a year ago and could have remained that way.

On the other hand, this is historically not uninteresting and should actually be the dream of every old leftist: It seems to be possible now to make a career here without money or a suitable background, but also without education, without knowledge, and above all without talent. But that's a broad field.

In our home, "Lümütüdüdüschn" has now become a kind of running gag, over which the girl - at least! - can already laugh herself. Whether she instinctively pulled the bottle of Coton Egyptien from the shelf at Sens Unique because it is a Lümütüdüdüschn that is sold out at the manufacturer remains an anecdotal question in the air. In any case, the scent seems to be at an end. More on that later.

Coton Egyptien indeed opens in a blunt-textile manner, with a hint of sweetness, almost liqueur-like-caramel. After a few minutes, a hint of... sheep-muff? Hey, we were talking about cotton! And besides, we are with Phaedon, so it’s not nearly as extreme as with 100 Tweeds from Euphorium Brooklyn. Whether what is offered now matches the natural smell of cotton, I do not know. It is original and a successful scent experience, at the very least.

That the scent already acquires a chemical note within the first half hour is surprisingly not unpleasant; rather, it exudes an impression of freshly cleaned laundry without developing the biting quality of a corporeal cleaning. The result is "clean, but different," and I am quite surprised by the sheer boldness of this Phaedon.

Around midday, the caramel-vanilla aspect slowly gains weight again, without becoming particularly sweet. A hint of musk becomes detectable in the background, its contribution will steadily swell from now on. This gradually conveys a mild, sweet-bitter creaminess that, in turn, comes across as completely clean. And so, a 'clean-textile' morning gradually turns into a 'clean-creamy' afternoon.

Conclusion: Not my area, but very successful in a special way. It's a pity that this one apparently had to be removed from the range. Perhaps it was secretly not quite right for the Phaedons.