BerryTerry
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A juicy, refreshing, and summery "pink" rose
At the top, there's a pink rose with some "bite." What I perceive as this "bite" is likely the citrus kick of the mandarin orange combined with the spice from the cardamom and the pink pepper. I find it notable that the spices are quite well-dosed and harmonious here, neither of them is showing off or fighting for attention. While close up it's possible to distinguish the listed top notes playing with one another, what the fragrance overall projects is something way rounder and more blended, led and watched over by that pink rose.
(Side note: At a certain point I also realized that this reminds me of Goutal's Rose Pompon EDP. Comparing the two on blotters made me suspect not only that they probably use very similar rose accords – and that's as far as the similarities go, even though it's quite significant as rose is the hero note for both – but more importantly that Rose Flamboyante probably also contains a very demure dose of ambroxan which, while noticeable, is similarly not fighting for attention but adding somewhat of a sparkliness that grounds the composition.)
The heart of the fragrance reveals a true prickly, fruity, ever so slightly citrus-y rose. So many rose scents I've tried default to just an intense rose (and not much else) in the heart. The fact that this rose seems more faceted is surprising and refreshing.
The base is a sweet but powerful rose, perhaps bolstered by the vetiver and the cedar. It's less saccharine, insistent, and enveloping than Kayali's Sweet Diamond Pink Pepper, which makes Rose Flamboyante a bit more discreet and well-behaved. That doesn't mean it's quiet: it projects at the base, which is also not often seen.
(Side note: At a certain point I also realized that this reminds me of Goutal's Rose Pompon EDP. Comparing the two on blotters made me suspect not only that they probably use very similar rose accords – and that's as far as the similarities go, even though it's quite significant as rose is the hero note for both – but more importantly that Rose Flamboyante probably also contains a very demure dose of ambroxan which, while noticeable, is similarly not fighting for attention but adding somewhat of a sparkliness that grounds the composition.)
The heart of the fragrance reveals a true prickly, fruity, ever so slightly citrus-y rose. So many rose scents I've tried default to just an intense rose (and not much else) in the heart. The fact that this rose seems more faceted is surprising and refreshing.
The base is a sweet but powerful rose, perhaps bolstered by the vetiver and the cedar. It's less saccharine, insistent, and enveloping than Kayali's Sweet Diamond Pink Pepper, which makes Rose Flamboyante a bit more discreet and well-behaved. That doesn't mean it's quiet: it projects at the base, which is also not often seen.
The first victim of modernity I'm willing to recognize
This new Vent Vert broke my heart. In trying to fit in with modern perfumery styles, it sacrificed something beautiful.
My first impression is that this has a narcotic quality that I associate with a lot of florals involving tuberose. I'm captivated by that smell, to the point where I've been trying to figure out what aromachemical(s) is/are involved. The best way I can describe it is "clean cigarette ash." I wish the entire fragrance were this, it evokes an image of a no-nonsense femme/homme/themme fatale. That effect persists through the first half of the heart, which is still not long enough for me.
But allow me to backtrack. Still on the opening, the green-ness is ever so slightly sweet, but quickly becomes more darker, more serious, and more focused. The basil, spearmint, and galbanum (this fragrance has even made me tolerate galbanum!) come in to impart a vegetal quality while still allowing the blackcurrant and the mandarin to play. The jasmine sits in the background and watches, biding its time.
In the heart, the jasmine springs to action. All is well for a while until you realize it brought guests with it, and this is sadly where my "narcotic" effect starts dying out and is replaced with a creamy sweetness that persists all the way to the dry down. It's nowhere near overwhelmingly sweet, but its sweetness deployed a bit thoughtlessly, I assume to keep up with the times and not alienate customers who might be challenged by a persistently green/narcotic fragrance.
I'm a lover of sweet fragrances and I still wish this didn't go in that direction. It's still worthy of testing, and I'm sure I'll add it to my collection, but perhaps only as a travel size.
My first impression is that this has a narcotic quality that I associate with a lot of florals involving tuberose. I'm captivated by that smell, to the point where I've been trying to figure out what aromachemical(s) is/are involved. The best way I can describe it is "clean cigarette ash." I wish the entire fragrance were this, it evokes an image of a no-nonsense femme/homme/themme fatale. That effect persists through the first half of the heart, which is still not long enough for me.
But allow me to backtrack. Still on the opening, the green-ness is ever so slightly sweet, but quickly becomes more darker, more serious, and more focused. The basil, spearmint, and galbanum (this fragrance has even made me tolerate galbanum!) come in to impart a vegetal quality while still allowing the blackcurrant and the mandarin to play. The jasmine sits in the background and watches, biding its time.
In the heart, the jasmine springs to action. All is well for a while until you realize it brought guests with it, and this is sadly where my "narcotic" effect starts dying out and is replaced with a creamy sweetness that persists all the way to the dry down. It's nowhere near overwhelmingly sweet, but its sweetness deployed a bit thoughtlessly, I assume to keep up with the times and not alienate customers who might be challenged by a persistently green/narcotic fragrance.
I'm a lover of sweet fragrances and I still wish this didn't go in that direction. It's still worthy of testing, and I'm sure I'll add it to my collection, but perhaps only as a travel size.
Merely fortunate
As a big fan of the original Lucky, I was beside myself when I saw the leaks of the new Esprit version. Sadly, while not unpleasant, Lucky Esprit de Parfum is not what I was hoping for. It may, however, still be for you!
I like the original Lucky because it is ethereal, bright, peaceful. It feels like a cool summer breeze. I love it so much that my one major gripe with it is that it's very much a "personal bubble" scent in terms of projection, to the point where I struggle to detect it just a few hours after spraying it. Longevity, while not bad, could also be better.
I was hoping Lucky Esprit would be the original in heightened form: nothing "beast mode" or obnoxious, but more present, long-lasting, and even brighter. What Lucky Esprit is, instead, is a *deeper* version of Lucky.
In the opening, the lily of the valley in Lucky Esprit, instead of being bright and green like the original, feels like someone took a few LOTV buds and candied them. The scent is sweeter and yet darker, as the colors of the flowers might deepen when dipped in sugar syrup.
In the heart, the original on my skin develops a dual nature of light/gauzy and a bit roast-y, almost like wheat. The Esprit loses its initial sweetness and instead becomes incredibly intense. This is when I understand what Kurkdjian said about increasing the intensity of the star notes of each of the Esprits Privés to the nth degree. It feels like he took the lily of the valley to a concentration so high that it's like no note I've ever smelled before. It becomes almost aromatic; lily of the valley dosed as if for a men's designer aromatic fragrance. This is not my style, and I can't say I enjoyed it in the Esprit, but it was so interesting to encounter this facet of one of my favorite floral notes.
The original, in the drydown, is that warm, light, roasted scent, a lily of the valley perhaps during the cool dusk after hours baking under the sun. In the Esprit, I could only detect that aromatic, super-concentrated lily of the valley but at a lower intensity.
I wasn't able to distinguish any leather notes that seemed familiar to me, and it makes me wonder how much of that intensity that I detected in the heart was actually leather à la Dior.
I'm grateful to M. Kurkdjian for the experience of getting to know a different side of one of my all-time favorites. I can only hope that it's reinterpreted in a different, brighter way in the future.
Until then, I may just layer the original Lucky with Diorissimo EDP. Perhaps that's just what I was expecting from Lucky Esprit all along!
I like the original Lucky because it is ethereal, bright, peaceful. It feels like a cool summer breeze. I love it so much that my one major gripe with it is that it's very much a "personal bubble" scent in terms of projection, to the point where I struggle to detect it just a few hours after spraying it. Longevity, while not bad, could also be better.
I was hoping Lucky Esprit would be the original in heightened form: nothing "beast mode" or obnoxious, but more present, long-lasting, and even brighter. What Lucky Esprit is, instead, is a *deeper* version of Lucky.
In the opening, the lily of the valley in Lucky Esprit, instead of being bright and green like the original, feels like someone took a few LOTV buds and candied them. The scent is sweeter and yet darker, as the colors of the flowers might deepen when dipped in sugar syrup.
In the heart, the original on my skin develops a dual nature of light/gauzy and a bit roast-y, almost like wheat. The Esprit loses its initial sweetness and instead becomes incredibly intense. This is when I understand what Kurkdjian said about increasing the intensity of the star notes of each of the Esprits Privés to the nth degree. It feels like he took the lily of the valley to a concentration so high that it's like no note I've ever smelled before. It becomes almost aromatic; lily of the valley dosed as if for a men's designer aromatic fragrance. This is not my style, and I can't say I enjoyed it in the Esprit, but it was so interesting to encounter this facet of one of my favorite floral notes.
The original, in the drydown, is that warm, light, roasted scent, a lily of the valley perhaps during the cool dusk after hours baking under the sun. In the Esprit, I could only detect that aromatic, super-concentrated lily of the valley but at a lower intensity.
I wasn't able to distinguish any leather notes that seemed familiar to me, and it makes me wonder how much of that intensity that I detected in the heart was actually leather à la Dior.
I'm grateful to M. Kurkdjian for the experience of getting to know a different side of one of my all-time favorites. I can only hope that it's reinterpreted in a different, brighter way in the future.
Until then, I may just layer the original Lucky with Diorissimo EDP. Perhaps that's just what I was expecting from Lucky Esprit all along!
It's... quite literally a baby?
I sprayed this on paper and it was a beautiful, powdery, woody floral scent. Very soothing and a tad vanillic, which I'd attribute to the benzoin. Projection was lackluster, and it left a lot to be desired in terms of durability, since I tried detecting it on the strip later on and it was largely gone.
However, I sprayed this on my skin about five minutes after the paper test and it quite literally smelled like a soiled diaper. I was perplexed. How could it be such a pretty, calming scent on the strip and a disgusting stomach-turner on skin? It was almost like a magic trick!
Even though the next morning the base on my skin is a very pleasant musk/sandalwood combo, I've come to realize the scent is very much akin to an actual human infant: you smell its head and it's heavenly and soothing. Then you check the diaper and... well.
Definitely try — ON SKIN — before you buy.
However, I sprayed this on my skin about five minutes after the paper test and it quite literally smelled like a soiled diaper. I was perplexed. How could it be such a pretty, calming scent on the strip and a disgusting stomach-turner on skin? It was almost like a magic trick!
Even though the next morning the base on my skin is a very pleasant musk/sandalwood combo, I've come to realize the scent is very much akin to an actual human infant: you smell its head and it's heavenly and soothing. Then you check the diaper and... well.
Definitely try — ON SKIN — before you buy.
Powerful. Powdery. Puzzling.
I was absolutely itching to try this after hearing the GLOWING reviews of it on one of my favorite podcasts, Les Oderants. I believe it was described as "the most beautiful perfume I've ever smelled" by a bystander on the day one of the hosts was wearing it. And I both get it and don't.
This opens with the, to me, curious and amusing baby powder/soiled baby's diaper effect that I associate with many old school legends, like Chanel No. 5 and Shalimar. It quickly becomes a haze of pretty florals, none of which I can readily identify. This is where the powder settles in and, on me, it persists through to the very drydown. I can't complain too much since I adore a powdery scent, but some may find it too much. Notes like the lavender and the mandarin orange peek (and I do mean peek) through to wave at one's olfactory receptors before flittering away to hide behind the powdery haze. The thyme also comes out to play in the early third by sprinkling the composition with a bit of savory aromaticity.
That's it: this is about all that happens for me that is identifiable. From then on, had I not looked at the note pyramid I would've assumed Chypre Palatin is linear, as I get nothing but sustained, elegantly intense, beautifully blended purple-ish powder. None of the other listed notes stay for long enough, or even come out, for me to be able to understand why some call this fruity or complex or leathery. I don’t get it!
It is undeniable, however, that the fragrance is lovely and well executed. I wanted to keep smelling it, seeing if it would turn into something else, but oh so happy with what it already gave me. Once I imagined this on a masculine paramour, it was game over: I would absolutely want to dive back in for more and more. This is where I... sort of... get it!
I'm at the point where I'm starting to revisit fragrances from early in my fragrance journey and finding beauty and complexity in them that I couldn't perceive at first with my less experienced nose. I can't wait to come back to Chypre Palatin in about a year's time!
This opens with the, to me, curious and amusing baby powder/soiled baby's diaper effect that I associate with many old school legends, like Chanel No. 5 and Shalimar. It quickly becomes a haze of pretty florals, none of which I can readily identify. This is where the powder settles in and, on me, it persists through to the very drydown. I can't complain too much since I adore a powdery scent, but some may find it too much. Notes like the lavender and the mandarin orange peek (and I do mean peek) through to wave at one's olfactory receptors before flittering away to hide behind the powdery haze. The thyme also comes out to play in the early third by sprinkling the composition with a bit of savory aromaticity.
That's it: this is about all that happens for me that is identifiable. From then on, had I not looked at the note pyramid I would've assumed Chypre Palatin is linear, as I get nothing but sustained, elegantly intense, beautifully blended purple-ish powder. None of the other listed notes stay for long enough, or even come out, for me to be able to understand why some call this fruity or complex or leathery. I don’t get it!
It is undeniable, however, that the fragrance is lovely and well executed. I wanted to keep smelling it, seeing if it would turn into something else, but oh so happy with what it already gave me. Once I imagined this on a masculine paramour, it was game over: I would absolutely want to dive back in for more and more. This is where I... sort of... get it!
I'm at the point where I'm starting to revisit fragrances from early in my fragrance journey and finding beauty and complexity in them that I couldn't perceive at first with my less experienced nose. I can't wait to come back to Chypre Palatin in about a year's time!
