Top Notes 
Apricot
Mandarin orange
Plum
Heart Notes 
Bulgarian rose
Freesia
Peony
Base Notes 
Atlas cedar
Musk
Alan
21 Reviews
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Alan
Helpful Review
8
The truth is, I don't like meringues
Sometimes I am asked to help in the search for a fragrance gift. However, instead of telling me what the recipient likes to smell, many of the desperate seekers first provide me with a thorough description of the exterior. "Oh, he is quite tall and slim, pretty sporty even, but he places a lot of value on his clothing. A well-groomed, somewhat metrosexual type with dark hair, what could suit him?" In such moments, I sometimes think of my own wardrobe, filled with pencil skirts, sheath dresses, solid-colored blouses, and classic pumps. I think of my reflection, the contrast between my fair skin and dark hair, my distant expression and the cool look in my eyes. And then I think of my dresser and the kitschy pink bottle inside, which contains a fragrance that is no less pink in appearance.
If "Poiray" were a woman, she would not look like me. She would be younger, still a girl, a summer child in a bright floral dress. She would have a peachy complexion, honey-colored curls, and a graceful ballerina figure, which she surely maintains solely through the enjoyment of rose water and meringues. Light as a feather, she floats by, with a friendly, dreamy smile on her lips. "Poiray" would be the personified romance, saved from slipping into kitsch only by being an elegant beauty at the same time.
So how does the personified romance smell to me? First, sweeter than I would like, and even a little artificial. Vanilla, not the deep, dark, and oily vanilla of a real pod, but sweet, a bit powdery and linear, as one knows from vanillin, and there is a mild fruitiness reminiscent of apricot yogurt. Both of these prevent the roses and peonies, which are already making their presence known, from really coming into their own. One would not expect this fragrance to transform within half an hour into the most beautiful peony scent I know. The fruitiness recedes on my skin, and the vanilla becomes a whisper, blending with clean musk and a bright, equally clean cedar note.
The heart of the perfume, however, is the peony, subtly supported by the rose notes. Of course, this is not a particularly original combination; most rose fragrances seem to get their peony offshoot sooner or later. What makes this peony so special for me is the way it is presented. After cedar, vanilla, and musk have faded into a clean, gentle base, they form a restrained background in ecru for a peony covered in dew, its pink petals not yet fully unfurled. Just picked, no unnecessary sweetness, no powdery notes; instead, it is a fresh, crystal-clear scent. "Poiray" is like a pink silk scarf in the wind, carefree, simple, and at the same time elegantly girlish. For hours, this note remains with you, before the peony slowly retreats, leaving a subtle floral veil on the skin that, together with vanilla, cedar, and musk, mimics the scent of an expensive cream.
"Poiray" would be the perfect wedding fragrance, but I don't need a white dream dress to wear this scent, nor do I need floral summer dresses and pink satin fabrics in my wardrobe. Visual and olfactory harmony is generally overrated, and to hell with the meringues.
If "Poiray" were a woman, she would not look like me. She would be younger, still a girl, a summer child in a bright floral dress. She would have a peachy complexion, honey-colored curls, and a graceful ballerina figure, which she surely maintains solely through the enjoyment of rose water and meringues. Light as a feather, she floats by, with a friendly, dreamy smile on her lips. "Poiray" would be the personified romance, saved from slipping into kitsch only by being an elegant beauty at the same time.
So how does the personified romance smell to me? First, sweeter than I would like, and even a little artificial. Vanilla, not the deep, dark, and oily vanilla of a real pod, but sweet, a bit powdery and linear, as one knows from vanillin, and there is a mild fruitiness reminiscent of apricot yogurt. Both of these prevent the roses and peonies, which are already making their presence known, from really coming into their own. One would not expect this fragrance to transform within half an hour into the most beautiful peony scent I know. The fruitiness recedes on my skin, and the vanilla becomes a whisper, blending with clean musk and a bright, equally clean cedar note.
The heart of the perfume, however, is the peony, subtly supported by the rose notes. Of course, this is not a particularly original combination; most rose fragrances seem to get their peony offshoot sooner or later. What makes this peony so special for me is the way it is presented. After cedar, vanilla, and musk have faded into a clean, gentle base, they form a restrained background in ecru for a peony covered in dew, its pink petals not yet fully unfurled. Just picked, no unnecessary sweetness, no powdery notes; instead, it is a fresh, crystal-clear scent. "Poiray" is like a pink silk scarf in the wind, carefree, simple, and at the same time elegantly girlish. For hours, this note remains with you, before the peony slowly retreats, leaving a subtle floral veil on the skin that, together with vanilla, cedar, and musk, mimics the scent of an expensive cream.
"Poiray" would be the perfect wedding fragrance, but I don't need a white dream dress to wear this scent, nor do I need floral summer dresses and pink satin fabrics in my wardrobe. Visual and olfactory harmony is generally overrated, and to hell with the meringues.
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