Orange peel drifting through quiet incense smoke!
It opens with a flash of orange peel, bright and slightly alcoholic, as if the zest has been soaked in something bitter and golden. It feels immediate, almost weightless, before incense slowly appears. It's neither dense nor churchy, rather airy, glowing, suspended. The citrus never turns sweet. Instead, it stays dry, a little boozy, carried by a lot of resinous notes and a somehow wrapped around veil of ambered warmth that settles close to the skin.
It's one of those Bertrand Duchaufour creations that feels very familiar if you know his handwriting. It brings back memories of his earlier work for L’Artisan Parfumeur, where incense was never about heaviness but about light, movement, and texture. Altamura to me somehow follows that same philosophy. It wears quietly, with confidence, unfolding slowly on the skin.
Alramura has a cosmic vibe, almost comes off like a silver light, not in a loud or abstract way, but how the scent seems to hover between materials. Orange, incense, amber, and only a touch of liqueur-like bitterness move in and out of focus.
Cherry and tobacco, aged together & softened by time.
I usually approach tobacco-heavy fragrances with caution. They often turn dense, loud, or overly photorealistic on my skin.
Tobacco Memories takes a different route, and that’s what makes it work so well for me. Here, the tobacco feels softened, almost polished, wrapped gently in a dark cherry note that adds depth as well as sweetness to the composition. The great thing is that it never slips into syrupy territory (which most of the cherry fragrances do). The cherry feels more like a memory rather than a flavor, slightly almond-like, lingering silently close to the skin. Saffron brings a smooth, velvety texture, giving the composition warmth and structure without sharp edges. It dries down into a creamy, woody, slightly sweet fragrance.
Overall, what I enjoy most is the balance. the fact that nothing pushes too hard and the whole blend smells more like a nostalgic symphony. The tobacco stays elegant and restrained, the cherry keeps the scent somehow inviting, and the saffron smooths everything into a calm, tactile experience. There’s a softness to the whole scent that makes it easy to wear, even comforting, while still feeling intentional and well-crafted (this is true for all the fragrances from the brand).
A forest that glows from within!
Fille en Aiguilles feels like stepping into a winter forest just after dusk. The air is dense with pine needles and fir balsam, slightly sticky with sap.
It opens up with a dark, almost herbaceous sharpness that's somehow comforting before a wave of what seems like candied fruit sets in along with nuances of brown sugar. It's not sugary in a playful manner but somehow adds more depth, as if caramelized dried fruits wer warmed next to a forest bonfire. Resinous incense is the backbone of the fragrance that adds a lot of glow to the fragrance. Vetiver adds an earthy undertone, grounding the sweetness so it never tips into excess. What makes this special is its balance. Pine can easily become harsh or synthetic. Here it feels natural, textured, and slightly mysterious. The sweetness wraps around the woods rather than covering them. It wears close after the first hour, almost like a private ritual. A forest, a little smoke, a trace of sugared fruit on cold skin.
Overall, Fille en Aiguilles smells like a deep winter forest infused with dark sugar, dried fruits, and shining incense. The pine in the fragrance smells quite natural and opulent, sweetened perfectly with some sweet resins having green edges to balance the sweetness. It carries the comfort of smoke, sap, and candied warmth, without ever becoming cloying. It's another masterpiece from Christopher Sheldrake. It's also one of the best pine fragrances out there, in my opinion.
Worthy of love: a loved story sweetened with sugar coated almonds.
Inspired by the Greek myth of the almond tree and the tradition of wedding koufeta, this scent truly lives up to its name: it's a soft, heartwarming caress that lingers long after the initial spray.
Meet Amandus, the latest launch my dear friend Manos created by Sofia Bardelli.
In a fragrance landscape currently overflowing with "sugar bombs" that feel more like sticky syrup than sophisticated perfumery, Amandus comes like a breath of refined air. It's a clever gourmand. It's a nutty/ almost boozy take on almonds and hazelnuts, all blended beautifully with dates and vanillic notes, all wrapped around musk.
What makes Amandus interesting to me is it’s nutty, toasted even slightly salty opening. It's quite enticing. The almond is the star here, but it’s supported by buttery toffee (more boozy and salted than sweet) and dates that feel natural.
Then there is a "Human" element, a sensual, skin-like quality in this fragrance that comes good 20 mins after the first spray. It definitely came as a surprise. The fragrance turns quite musky, which almost brings this ethereal quality to the scent that feels like you’re wearing a memory.
Most gourmands lose their identity in the base, becoming a generic vanilla blur. Amandus evolves into a unique, pillowy dry down of sandalwood and musk that I haven't encountered in many gourmand releases, with some exceptions. It’s sophisticated, slightly gauzy, and incredibly confident.
Overall, Amandus feels like a well-executed gourmand and almond is executed very well. It’s warm, nutty and quitely addictive (especially in the opening) with a very surprising heart and drydown.
A steel petal wrapped in suede. Cold incense, warm skin, metallic light & creamy sandalwood.
Fleur Danger feels like a message sent from tomorrow. Out of the three launches, this is the one I keep returning to.
The idea of “Future of Flowers” could have easily turned abstract or cold, but here it is executed with such precision that it feels both distant and intimate at once.
A smooth suede wraps around a cool metallic sheen, almost like a steel petal preserved under thick glass. Pink pepper flickers at the start, quite electric, before boozy sandalwood brings a quiet warmth beneath the surface. There is a faint raspberry tone if you lean in close, and saffron glows softly in the heart, but everything is filtered through that silvery, futuristic aura.
Overall, Fleur Danger smells like a flower blooming in a bleak, neon-lit city. Blade Runner skies, rain on concrete, chrome reflections, and somewhere in between, a single blossom refusing to disappear. Cold incense, polished metal, soft leather. A memory of nature in a world of robots, neon lights, and people made of steel. Fleur Danger is a beautifully composed, very controlled and textured, and strikingly modern creation by Ugo Charron.
