Top Notes 
Elemi resin
Clary sage
Aldehydes
Artemisia
Bergamot
Hyacinth
Lime
Dormant Crumble
Heart Notes 
Carnation absolute
Cyclamen
Damask rose absolute
Gardenia
Geranium
Jasminum auriculatum absolute
Lily of the valley
Tonka bean
Tuberose absolute
Ylang-ylang absolute
Base Notes 
Fir balsam
Tobacco
Castoreum
Civet
Frankincense
Musk
Oakmoss
Rosewood
Siam benzoin
White ambergris
05/30/2025
ClaireV
969 Reviews
ClaireV
1
Intensely green and naturalistic
Le Rayon Vert an explosion of green so strong that one can smell it through the sample tube. Every imaginable shade of green has been included here – the chilly grey-green of galbanum resin, the oily, pollen-rich yellow-green of hyacinth, and the acid green of lime. It smells like a shot of vitamins to the arm, a kale smoothie in attar form.
Key to the earthy brightness of the tone here, I feel, is elemi resin, which is a sort of ashy, lemony resin that smells uplifting rather than churchy. The elemi is what bridges all the other notes together until a canopy of greenery is knitted overhead, the sunlight filtering through in places.
The sharpness of the green florals in the heart fall and rise in pitch, but the gardenia absolute – that rare and expensive essence so rarely used – retains its cool, grassy creaminess throughout. People often say that gardenia smells like butter. Well, in Sultan Pasha’s work, the gardenia smells literally like butter – the golden, salty Irish kind that commands premium prices in America. Sharp, watery muguet (lily of the valley) aerates the butter pail, whipping air into the gardenia until it becomes as foamy as meringue.
If this all sounds light and ethereal, then I’m afraid I am giving you the wrong impression – Le Rayon Vert is muscular, and almost pungent in its greenness. Like Diaghilev (Roja Dove) or Chypre Palatin (Parfums MDCI), it is green made animal, the iron fist of civet wrapped in a mossy velvet glove. In terms of more recent scents, its closest contemporary might be Vert de Fleurs or Vert de Bois, both from Tom Ford.
The base is murky, the gardenia furred up with benzoin, musk, castoreum, and ambergris. The green – that sinewy sleeve of green – is extended to the tips of the fragrance by way of a clever fir balsam note, which introduces the chill breath of northern conifers. On a side note, the mix between cool, minty greens and the buttery florals creates a ghostly accord pitched between roast coffee and greasy coconut. I smell this accord frequently in my vintage bottle of Givenchy III.
Give Le Rayon Vert if you like intensely green fragrances and want to experience a no-holds-barred take on the theme. To my nose, it is a bit chaotic and over-stuffed, but there is no denying its quality. If you love the recent Tom Ford Vert series but want a step up in quality, then Le Rayon Vert may be your little corner of heaven.
Key to the earthy brightness of the tone here, I feel, is elemi resin, which is a sort of ashy, lemony resin that smells uplifting rather than churchy. The elemi is what bridges all the other notes together until a canopy of greenery is knitted overhead, the sunlight filtering through in places.
The sharpness of the green florals in the heart fall and rise in pitch, but the gardenia absolute – that rare and expensive essence so rarely used – retains its cool, grassy creaminess throughout. People often say that gardenia smells like butter. Well, in Sultan Pasha’s work, the gardenia smells literally like butter – the golden, salty Irish kind that commands premium prices in America. Sharp, watery muguet (lily of the valley) aerates the butter pail, whipping air into the gardenia until it becomes as foamy as meringue.
If this all sounds light and ethereal, then I’m afraid I am giving you the wrong impression – Le Rayon Vert is muscular, and almost pungent in its greenness. Like Diaghilev (Roja Dove) or Chypre Palatin (Parfums MDCI), it is green made animal, the iron fist of civet wrapped in a mossy velvet glove. In terms of more recent scents, its closest contemporary might be Vert de Fleurs or Vert de Bois, both from Tom Ford.
The base is murky, the gardenia furred up with benzoin, musk, castoreum, and ambergris. The green – that sinewy sleeve of green – is extended to the tips of the fragrance by way of a clever fir balsam note, which introduces the chill breath of northern conifers. On a side note, the mix between cool, minty greens and the buttery florals creates a ghostly accord pitched between roast coffee and greasy coconut. I smell this accord frequently in my vintage bottle of Givenchy III.
Give Le Rayon Vert if you like intensely green fragrances and want to experience a no-holds-barred take on the theme. To my nose, it is a bit chaotic and over-stuffed, but there is no denying its quality. If you love the recent Tom Ford Vert series but want a step up in quality, then Le Rayon Vert may be your little corner of heaven.
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