12/02/2012

Cryptic
24 Reviews

Cryptic
Top Review
16
Behold: The Blonde Diva
Fracas was created in 1948 by Germaine Cellier, one of the few female noses working in the male-dominated field of post WWII perfumery. To my mind, Cellier was a legitimate niche perfumer long before the term was even coined, in the sense that her best work (Bandit, Fracas, Vent Vert) appeals to a very specific customer as opposed to courting a more mainstream audience. I'm not surprised that Edie Sedgwick, Madonna, Martha Stewart and Morgan Fairchild are devotees of Fracas given that this fragrance is about as charimatic and Diva-esque as perfume gets.
Although Fracas is often referred to as the gold standard in tuberose perfumes, it is actually not an accurate representation of the flower's natural scent. For that, tuberose fans should look to Ropion's Carnal Flower and its brilliant realism. Instead, Fracas is more of a larger than life, fantasized version of the tuberose flower that was inspired by a stunning blonde of Cellier's acquaintance, Edwige Feuillere.
There is no point listing the notes of this classic, because Fracas is so much more than the sum of its parts, and to quantify it takes away some of the mystery, at least for me. Buttery, creamy, rich, opulent ... Fracas is all those things, and it is such an in-your-face dose of female sexuality that it inevitably inspires some hatred as well as devotion, as all great art tends to do. Fracas is justifiably cherished and revered, despite having been reformulated. Happily, it is one of the lucky few classic perfumes to survive an overhaul unscathed.
As far as the practicalities are concerned, Fracas has mammoth sillage and superb longevity. The only reason I haven't rated it higher is because I struggle to find occasions appropriate/special enough to wear it. Much like a cocktail dress, Fracas is not for workplace wear, unless you aren't afraid of being reported by perfumephobes or bent over a desk by a smitten coworker. ;)
Although Fracas is often referred to as the gold standard in tuberose perfumes, it is actually not an accurate representation of the flower's natural scent. For that, tuberose fans should look to Ropion's Carnal Flower and its brilliant realism. Instead, Fracas is more of a larger than life, fantasized version of the tuberose flower that was inspired by a stunning blonde of Cellier's acquaintance, Edwige Feuillere.
There is no point listing the notes of this classic, because Fracas is so much more than the sum of its parts, and to quantify it takes away some of the mystery, at least for me. Buttery, creamy, rich, opulent ... Fracas is all those things, and it is such an in-your-face dose of female sexuality that it inevitably inspires some hatred as well as devotion, as all great art tends to do. Fracas is justifiably cherished and revered, despite having been reformulated. Happily, it is one of the lucky few classic perfumes to survive an overhaul unscathed.
As far as the practicalities are concerned, Fracas has mammoth sillage and superb longevity. The only reason I haven't rated it higher is because I struggle to find occasions appropriate/special enough to wear it. Much like a cocktail dress, Fracas is not for workplace wear, unless you aren't afraid of being reported by perfumephobes or bent over a desk by a smitten coworker. ;)
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