Bois d'Iris The Different Company 2000

Many consider Jean-Claude Ellena to be the greatest living perfumer. One may share this view or not, but it is probably indisputable: he has achieved greatness, created significant works, and found a unique olfactory language, a style aptly described by the term 'minimalism'.
He sees himself in the tradition of his great teacher and role model, Edmond Roudnitska, who, like Ellena, worked throughout his life on shortening formulas and their sublimation. Both started with grand symphonic works, ultimately finding their appropriate form in the string quartet.

Bois d'Iris is such a string quartet, far removed from the grand orchestral apparatus that Ellena needed for his 'First' from Van Cleef & Arpels, but still quite a distance from his latest work 'Voyage d'Hermès', which has been reduced to such an extent, so minimalized, that one might think the small group of strings is playing only a single note - and doing so very, very softly. No, Bois d'Iris is still a pulsating, albeit in a small framework, opulent work. Jean-Claude Ellena created it in 2000, as the first fragrance of a small niche company called The Different Company, of which he remained the house perfumer for several years until larger tasks called and Hermès could engage him exclusively. From then on, his daughter Celline Ellena acted as the 'nose' of the small but fine company. However, between 2000 and 2004, Jean-Claude Ellena created four fragrances for The Different Company, which I personally count among his best: Bois d'Iris, Rose poivrée, Osmanthus, and Bergamote - four truly magnificent fragrances in sensationally beautiful and noble bottles. Bois d'Iris is, with a tiny margin ahead of Rose poivrée, my absolute favorite, closely followed by Osmanthus. Whenever I unscrew the bottle of Bois d'Iris and smell it, I think: Wow!
I have always been a big fan of iris fragrances, and Chanel No.19 is certainly the most beautiful, unmatched, and a class of its own, but it is just a crucial bit too cold, too aloof for me - I cannot wear it. I can spray No.19 on my wrist and let myself be almost narcotized by this magnificent iris aroma, but I cannot wear this scent. Bois d'Iris is different - I could bathe in it!

Cool iris (iris palida) in the opening, together with dry-green vetiver, citrus-fresh bergamot, radiant geranium, on a base of cedarwood and a hint of musk. All in all, it sounds rather fresh and airy, but the fragrance has substance. The fragrance extract of iris is primarily obtained from its roots, called 'rhizomes'. Bois d'Iris apparently uses such a high proportion of iris absolute that the iris achieves an almost buttery intensity. Supported by cedarwood and vetiver, the fragrance gains a light and irresistible whisky aroma, which is certainly tolerable even for those who absolutely cannot stand whisky - and I love whisky, especially those from the Isle of Islay! However, Bois d'Iris does not smell quite as strictly peaty, but the fragrance does lean just a tiny bit in that direction.
As for the fragrance progression, it is not particularly surprising for a perfume in string quartet dimensions: right from the start, the viola and cello can be heard, increasingly blending into the play of the violins, picking up their melodies, varying them, and towards the end, the full, dark string tone resonates, permeated by the echo of the violins.
The fragrance has excellent longevity and is still distinctly perceptible after several hours, delicate and unobtrusive, neither shy nor intrusive - a fragrance of nearly perfect proportions!

Whether it should be worn more by a man or a woman is, in my opinion, completely irrelevant - it can be claimed equally by both genders, as it has nothing distinctly feminine that would not also be found in the masculine realm and vice versa - it stands for itself: a dry-delicate, buttery iris with light whisky hints. A beautiful melody, sprinkled with some contrasts and disharmonies, but those are known to be like the salt in the soup - they provide the spice!

How wonderful it would be if Jean-Claude Ellena would only remember the time when he created this and the other fragrances for The Different Company, instead of composing fragrances today that hardly deserve the term 'fragrance' and could rather be described as 'a faint whisper of nothing'. Sublimation to the point of self-dissolution does not have to be, Mr. Ellena - please reach back into the depths a bit more! You can do it!