Tubereuse Organique The Zoo 2019

A tuberose scent is usually a tricky affair. Even its little sisters, magnolia and gardenia, whose fragrances are typically reconstructed because there are little to no essential oils that can be extracted from them, are already loud and prone to dominance, but the tuberose, which interestingly belongs to the agave family, tops them all.
For me, the tuberose oscillates somewhere between a room-filling diva and a room-exploding drag queen. In any case, it reliably makes a fanfare-like entrance, with a deep, organ-like contralto voice and a heaving bosom.

Definitely not here.

Christophe Laudamiel has managed to strip the tuberose of its frills, to take off its makeup. His “Tubereuse Organique” approaches us completely without fuss and without fanfare; yes, it seems unusually subdued and strangely naked.
This is almost a bit puzzling.
Because as pretentious and exhausting as the tuberose can be - it usually smells so intoxicating and narcotic that I am willing to endure all its airs without complaint. One breath infused with Malle's “Carnal Flower” and I melt away. But wearing it? No, not for the life of me.

Am I Mae West? Am I Mary, aka Georg Preuße? No.

Surprisingly, Christophe Laudamiel has staged this unmade-up, natural tuberose appearance without a single drop of any tuberose extract or tuberose absolute. There is simply no tuberose in here at all!
And yet “Tubereuse Organique” smells wonderfully of this flower. The perfumer has captured it, however, at a much earlier stage than usual, almost still dewy and fresh from the field. You can already sense where the journey will lead when the flower blooms in full regalia. The petals are still somewhat closed, bright, green, and earthy-rooty accents still cling to the flower, merging into a wonderful organic plant aroma that one (I) would prefer to drink.

Speaking of drinking: as already mentioned, the tuberose belongs to the agave family. And this is exactly where Christophe Laudamiel's tuberose fantasy begins: he creates his fresh, green tuberose accord with the help of lavandin LMR (a certified organic raw material from a French cooperative), a bit of Egyptian jasmine absolute, and a splash of real organic tequila (“123 Tequila” by David Ravandi).
Since tequila is known to be an agave spirit, this establishes the connection to the tuberose. Not that it would immediately occur to me, but somehow the scent of “Tubereuse Organique” does vaguely remind me of a drink we used to enjoy with a certain horror in the late 80s and early 90s: mezcal; the old, aged one, with the worm inside. With the last sip, the worm would come out and could/should/must be eaten. Luckily, I never found myself in that situation...

Maybe it's just my imagination, since I haven't drunk that spirit in ages, but maybe not. In any case, one should not think of the white, fiery tequila that we used to enjoy in large quantities with lemon and salt, but rather of the brown, dark tequila - but please forget the obligatory orange and coffee (or cinnamon), as they are not part of this.
Of course, he, Christophe Laudamiel, and his co-perfumer Ugo Charron enjoyed a glass or two of it - they were right!

With tequila, lavandin, and jasmine, the two have recreated the floral accord, while oak moss, certified organic vetiver, and patchouli shaped the green stem and the root system, which still carries the scent of damp earth.
This new creation was accentuated with some ambrette seeds, a bit of hibiscus, angelica, and marigold - I can't pick them out individually, but they are mentioned in the list of ingredients.

“Tubereuse Organique” is thus seemingly a tuberose soliflore, but only seemingly, when considering the array of notes involved. What is astonishing is how precisely this array is harmonized, how perfectly calibrated it is - all, but really all, contribute to this organic tuberose accord that doesn't actually exist, yet they convincingly intone it.
Fantastic!

I suddenly feel like having a tequila - I haven't had one in ages!