Top Notes 
Bergamot
Orange
Solar note
Heart Notes 
Caramel
Vanilla
Violet
Base Notes 
Amber
Musk
Sandalwood05/23/2025
Elysium
887 Reviews
Elysium
3
A Prelude of Sensations
There’s always a moment, before anything begins, when nothing has happened yet. It’s brief, fragile, but full of possibility. It’s the silence before the first word. The breath before the music. A stillness that holds tension. In the prelude, everything is suspended. The light is soft, the air holds its breath. A beat, a breath, a thought not yet spoken. And then—something stirs. A sound. A scent. A first note that breaks the silence and shifts the world. Like every true beginning, Preludio doesn’t shout. It suggests. It invites. It’s a soft opening, a whispered promise. It doesn’t impose—it draws you in. The first step in a story that asks to be heard with care.
The Prelude. It opens bright and clear. Bergamot lights the scene, while a touch of solar notes, perhaps jasmine, adds tension. It feels like waking early, when the air is still and every sound feels nearer. Sweet orange peel, subtle and graceful, bridges freshness and depth. In this first moment, the scent remains suspended, like a thought yet to be spoken. From very close, I seem to get a minty and herbaceous nuance.
The Dawn. Then something shifts. Like light slipping through the curtains, Preludio begins to reveal itself. May rose is the first to arrive—full, soft, alive. Violet follows, with its quiet, powdery elegance. It is more on the leafy side, with mineral and earthy aspects rather than dusty and talcum-like sensations. There’s no rush. The scent stretches out and turns inward. At times, it feels nostalgic, like a memory surfacing unexpectedly. Here, the perfume begins to feel like a part of you. Although caramel and vanilla are listed in the middle stage, I do not get too much of them until now. Now Preludio is green, it’s herbal, it’s aromatic.
Noon. Now comes fullness. Preludio deepens, takes shape. Jasmine sambac brings warmth and a quiet intensity, almost hypnotic. It’s like standing in a garden at midday, with flowers breathing gently in the sun. Unexpected earthy vetiver enters softly, offering grounding. It steadies the sweetness, gives it weight. This is where the scent finds its balance—light and deep, alive but composed. Effortlessly elegant.
Dusk. The ending is gentle. Amber notes draw close to the skin like a warm touch. Musk and vanilla don’t overpower—they blend with sandalwood, speaking softly. No sugary excess—just a creamy warmth that lingers. The base is smooth, balsamic, with an echo of skin and twilight. When Preludio fades, it does so with grace. It leaves a trace, never a heavy mark. White musk turns it soapy, with that typical laundry nuance. There is even patchouli in the ingredients, aka pogostemon cablin oil, but it is not dominant and just balances the accords.
Preludio is an amber and fruity fragrance, despite of caramel, vanilla, and tonka that sweeten it, but do not take it to gourmand territory. It doesn’t seek attention. Its projection is soft, like a quiet conversation. It’s best noticed up close. After two hours, it settles near the skin, yet it remains. And it lasts—through the evening, sometimes beyond. On fabric, a faint trace might still be there the next day. Same on the paper strip. Some seasons speak the same language as this scent. Late spring, when the air softens. Early autumn, when the light turns golden and thoughts slow down. This is when Preludio feels most at home. It’s not made for crowds. It prefers quiet moments and still rooms. But worn for important occasions, it never fades into the background.
A Final Thought. Preludio is more than perfume. It’s a way of entering the world with softness and intention. It speaks of beginnings—small gestures that carry meaning. There’s something truthful in how it stays with you: unhurried, unforced, but present. Sometimes, it’s the preludes that hold the heart of the story.
Based on a bottle purchased in May 2025 (BC 01625199)
— Elysium
The Prelude. It opens bright and clear. Bergamot lights the scene, while a touch of solar notes, perhaps jasmine, adds tension. It feels like waking early, when the air is still and every sound feels nearer. Sweet orange peel, subtle and graceful, bridges freshness and depth. In this first moment, the scent remains suspended, like a thought yet to be spoken. From very close, I seem to get a minty and herbaceous nuance.
The Dawn. Then something shifts. Like light slipping through the curtains, Preludio begins to reveal itself. May rose is the first to arrive—full, soft, alive. Violet follows, with its quiet, powdery elegance. It is more on the leafy side, with mineral and earthy aspects rather than dusty and talcum-like sensations. There’s no rush. The scent stretches out and turns inward. At times, it feels nostalgic, like a memory surfacing unexpectedly. Here, the perfume begins to feel like a part of you. Although caramel and vanilla are listed in the middle stage, I do not get too much of them until now. Now Preludio is green, it’s herbal, it’s aromatic.
Noon. Now comes fullness. Preludio deepens, takes shape. Jasmine sambac brings warmth and a quiet intensity, almost hypnotic. It’s like standing in a garden at midday, with flowers breathing gently in the sun. Unexpected earthy vetiver enters softly, offering grounding. It steadies the sweetness, gives it weight. This is where the scent finds its balance—light and deep, alive but composed. Effortlessly elegant.
Dusk. The ending is gentle. Amber notes draw close to the skin like a warm touch. Musk and vanilla don’t overpower—they blend with sandalwood, speaking softly. No sugary excess—just a creamy warmth that lingers. The base is smooth, balsamic, with an echo of skin and twilight. When Preludio fades, it does so with grace. It leaves a trace, never a heavy mark. White musk turns it soapy, with that typical laundry nuance. There is even patchouli in the ingredients, aka pogostemon cablin oil, but it is not dominant and just balances the accords.
Preludio is an amber and fruity fragrance, despite of caramel, vanilla, and tonka that sweeten it, but do not take it to gourmand territory. It doesn’t seek attention. Its projection is soft, like a quiet conversation. It’s best noticed up close. After two hours, it settles near the skin, yet it remains. And it lasts—through the evening, sometimes beyond. On fabric, a faint trace might still be there the next day. Same on the paper strip. Some seasons speak the same language as this scent. Late spring, when the air softens. Early autumn, when the light turns golden and thoughts slow down. This is when Preludio feels most at home. It’s not made for crowds. It prefers quiet moments and still rooms. But worn for important occasions, it never fades into the background.
A Final Thought. Preludio is more than perfume. It’s a way of entering the world with softness and intention. It speaks of beginnings—small gestures that carry meaning. There’s something truthful in how it stays with you: unhurried, unforced, but present. Sometimes, it’s the preludes that hold the heart of the story.
Based on a bottle purchased in May 2025 (BC 01625199)
— Elysium
Elysium
