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Bold, Contemporary Vetiver
One of the defining pillars of contemporary perfumery is the bold use of woody-amber molecules—powerhouses like Ambroxan, Ambermax, Ambrocenide, Amber Xtreme, Amberwood, and others. These ingredients are prized for their ability to amplify projection, sillage, and longevity. Their sheer strength and distinctive character can be challenging to tame, often dominating compositions unless skillfully balanced. Yet, some perfumers embrace this very intensity, allowing these materials to shine alongside the central theme. Jorge Lee's Sultan Vetiver is a good example of this genre.
The fragrance opens with an unexpectedly sharp, soapy brightness—almost aldehydic in nature. As it settles, a vivid green and peppery Neroli emerges, bolstered by a generous splash of Bergamot. The soapiness deepens with pronounced anise notes: green, herbal, and subtly sweet. This shimmering veil delicately wraps around the core—an assertive, multifaceted vetiver.
The vetiver here is no one-note wonder. It unfolds gradually, revealing a rich tapestry of nuances: green, woody, anisic, fresh, rooty, smoky, resinous, and earthy. But the real sleight of hand lies in its transformation. What begins as a classical vetiver evolves into something strikingly modern, thanks to the infusion of woody-ambers. These “steroidal” molecules crank the knob to eleven, introducing facets that are extra dry, ambery, metallic, animalic, and leathery. The initial blast may feel aggressive, but it mellows beautifully over time.
If you're averse to woody-ambers, proceed with caution. But if you’re a vetiver enthusiast seeking something bold and contemporary, Sultan Vetiver is a compelling contender.
8.5/10
The fragrance opens with an unexpectedly sharp, soapy brightness—almost aldehydic in nature. As it settles, a vivid green and peppery Neroli emerges, bolstered by a generous splash of Bergamot. The soapiness deepens with pronounced anise notes: green, herbal, and subtly sweet. This shimmering veil delicately wraps around the core—an assertive, multifaceted vetiver.
The vetiver here is no one-note wonder. It unfolds gradually, revealing a rich tapestry of nuances: green, woody, anisic, fresh, rooty, smoky, resinous, and earthy. But the real sleight of hand lies in its transformation. What begins as a classical vetiver evolves into something strikingly modern, thanks to the infusion of woody-ambers. These “steroidal” molecules crank the knob to eleven, introducing facets that are extra dry, ambery, metallic, animalic, and leathery. The initial blast may feel aggressive, but it mellows beautifully over time.
If you're averse to woody-ambers, proceed with caution. But if you’re a vetiver enthusiast seeking something bold and contemporary, Sultan Vetiver is a compelling contender.
8.5/10
A Classical Vetiver
An exquisite vetiver composition that opens with a bold, camphoraceous blast—intensely aromatic and brimming with herbs and spices. Mint, thyme, cloves, cinnamon leaf, camphor, eucalyptus, nutmeg, and juniper all converge in a heady, invigorating rush. A pronounced wintergreen note adds a mentholated, medicinal edge that feels almost bracing at first.
But this vivid introduction quickly mellows, allowing the star ingredient—deep, smoky, rooty vetiver—to emerge in full glory. The vetiver oil here is unmistakably rich, earthy, and of exceptional quality. Woven through it is a leathery, curried tobacco nuance courtesy of immortelle, lending warmth and complexity.
The base is anchored by what feels like authentic Mysore sandalwood oil: aged, resinous, and profoundly woody, its presence becomes more apparent as the fragrance dries down. Yet alongside vetiver, the other standout is styrax. Paired with labdanum, it nudges the composition toward a bourbon-like richness—resinous, slightly sweet, and warmly enveloping.
If this fragrance truly dates back to 1914, it predates Jean-Paul Guerlain’s iconic Guerlain Vetiver by nearly 45 years. The connection is unmistakable—there’s a shared DNA here, though this vintage formulation feels just as compelling, if not more so. I own an older version, and it’s impressively potent and long-lasting. If vetiver speaks to you, this is one you absolutely must experience.
9.5/10
But this vivid introduction quickly mellows, allowing the star ingredient—deep, smoky, rooty vetiver—to emerge in full glory. The vetiver oil here is unmistakably rich, earthy, and of exceptional quality. Woven through it is a leathery, curried tobacco nuance courtesy of immortelle, lending warmth and complexity.
The base is anchored by what feels like authentic Mysore sandalwood oil: aged, resinous, and profoundly woody, its presence becomes more apparent as the fragrance dries down. Yet alongside vetiver, the other standout is styrax. Paired with labdanum, it nudges the composition toward a bourbon-like richness—resinous, slightly sweet, and warmly enveloping.
If this fragrance truly dates back to 1914, it predates Jean-Paul Guerlain’s iconic Guerlain Vetiver by nearly 45 years. The connection is unmistakable—there’s a shared DNA here, though this vintage formulation feels just as compelling, if not more so. I own an older version, and it’s impressively potent and long-lasting. If vetiver speaks to you, this is one you absolutely must experience.
9.5/10
A Masterpiece!
This is, without question, my eternal favorite. It’s the only perfume for which I’ve stocked multiple backup bottles—I simply never want to be without it. While the original 2005 version by Olivier Polge was in a league of its own, this 2011 reinterpretation by François Demachy remains one of Dior’s most exquisite creations.
More than a mere fragrance, it exudes a certain quiet sophistication—an elegance that can only be truly appreciated through experience. The star of the show is Iris—specifically Orris Root—and this composition offers one of the most breathtaking renditions of Iris in all of perfumery. Attempting to dissect it note by note would completely miss the point; its beauty lies in its breathtaking, seamless elegance.
If you happen to come across a bottle, especially from the 2011–2014 era, don’t hesitate—just grab it. This is one of the best perfumes ever made—a masterpiece.
10/10
More than a mere fragrance, it exudes a certain quiet sophistication—an elegance that can only be truly appreciated through experience. The star of the show is Iris—specifically Orris Root—and this composition offers one of the most breathtaking renditions of Iris in all of perfumery. Attempting to dissect it note by note would completely miss the point; its beauty lies in its breathtaking, seamless elegance.
If you happen to come across a bottle, especially from the 2011–2014 era, don’t hesitate—just grab it. This is one of the best perfumes ever made—a masterpiece.
10/10
A seductive oriental Chypre
Lost in Heaven by Francesca Bianchi is a spellbinding collision of worlds—a sultry, herbal fruity-floral chypre laced with her unmistakable oriental amber signature. If you’ve dipped into her collection, you’ll recognize that rich, animalic base that anchors each creation like a secret code. This is my third scent from the collection, and the Bianchi DNA is unmistakable—bold, sensual, and unapologetically luxurious.
What sets this apart is her fearless use of rare, high-quality naturals: think buttery orris root, luminous orange blossom, decadent jasmine absolutes, sticky labdanum, and golden beeswax. These ingredients aren’t just pricey—they’re notoriously tricky to balance. But Bianchi doesn’t just tame them—she makes them sing.
The opening is a big burst of floral drama—jasmine and orange blossom strut in with their indolic swagger, backed by ylang-ylang, mimosa, and a juicy splash of sweet orange. A dash of cumin adds spice and intrigue, like a wink across a candlelit room. Beneath it all, a woody hum of patchouli, vetiver, and moss grounds the composition, while creamy sandalwood, heliotrope, and tonka bean smooth the edges like velvet.
And then comes the magic: her signature amber accord—labdanum, beeswax, orris butter, castoreum, and tonkin musk—rises like heat from skin, animalic and intimate. It’s as if a classic French chypre wandered into an opulent Eastern palace and decided to stay.
The result is a fragrance that’s seductive, complex, and utterly captivating. If you’re a fan of fruity-floral chypres (guilty as charged), this one’s a masterpiece. It reminded me of Amouage’s Jubilation 25—but dialed down to a more intimate volume, with a deeper, resinous, oriental soul humming underneath.
Lost in Heaven isn’t just a perfume—it’s a moment suspended in amber.
9.5/10
What sets this apart is her fearless use of rare, high-quality naturals: think buttery orris root, luminous orange blossom, decadent jasmine absolutes, sticky labdanum, and golden beeswax. These ingredients aren’t just pricey—they’re notoriously tricky to balance. But Bianchi doesn’t just tame them—she makes them sing.
The opening is a big burst of floral drama—jasmine and orange blossom strut in with their indolic swagger, backed by ylang-ylang, mimosa, and a juicy splash of sweet orange. A dash of cumin adds spice and intrigue, like a wink across a candlelit room. Beneath it all, a woody hum of patchouli, vetiver, and moss grounds the composition, while creamy sandalwood, heliotrope, and tonka bean smooth the edges like velvet.
And then comes the magic: her signature amber accord—labdanum, beeswax, orris butter, castoreum, and tonkin musk—rises like heat from skin, animalic and intimate. It’s as if a classic French chypre wandered into an opulent Eastern palace and decided to stay.
The result is a fragrance that’s seductive, complex, and utterly captivating. If you’re a fan of fruity-floral chypres (guilty as charged), this one’s a masterpiece. It reminded me of Amouage’s Jubilation 25—but dialed down to a more intimate volume, with a deeper, resinous, oriental soul humming underneath.
Lost in Heaven isn’t just a perfume—it’s a moment suspended in amber.
9.5/10
A transitional masterpiece—part vintage, part modern.
For the past few years, I’ve immersed myself in the captivating world of perfumery—a realm where the nose becomes a compass and scent, a language. It’s a thrilling, almost alchemical journey: exploring hundreds of raw materials in both their pure and diluted forms, discovering how they harmonize or collide in unexpected ways. This experience has fundamentally reshaped how I perceive fragrance. Now, when I smell a perfume, I’m not merely enjoying it—I’m deciphering its story.
One of the most exciting parts is spotting the building blocks—the naturals and synthetics—that give a perfume its soul. Each raw material has its own unmistakable identity. Once you’ve smelled it in isolation, it’s like recognizing a familiar face in a crowd. And some of these materials are so overdosed, they practically shout their presence.
Take Dihydro Myrcenol, for example. If you’ve ever smelled a men’s fragrance in the last few decades, chances are you’ve met this fresh, blue, limey, lavender-tinged note. It’s the backbone of countless perfumes, most famously Davidoff’s Cool Water by Pierre Bourdon. That scent was so iconic, Dihydro Myrcenol became its olfactory signature. But it doesn’t stop there—you’ll find it in Dior’s Sauvage, Chanel’s Allure Homme, and hundreds more. Once you’ve smelled it solo, it starts popping up everywhere—even in perfumes you thought you knew inside out—which brings me to YSL Jazz.
I’ve worn Jazz for nearly a decade. It’s one of my all-time favorite Aromatic Fougères—crisp, clean, spicy, woody, and effortlessly elegant. It’s the kind of scent that fits any occasion, and I’ve gone through multiple bottles over the years. And in my mind, it's always belonged to the previous generation of fougeres—that came after Azzaro pour Homme but before Cool Water. But today, after a long hiatus, I sprayed it on and—bam! —a tidal wave of Dihydro Myrcenol hit me square in the nose. It was like rediscovering an old friend who had a side I never knew about.
What’s fascinating is how Jazz, released the same year as Cool Water, straddles two generations of Fougères. It carries the spicy, mossy, leathery DNA of classic perfumery, while also hinting at the fresh, blue accords that would dominate the decades to come. It’s a transitional masterpiece—part vintage, part modern.
That said, the “blue accord” felt a bit too familiar this time around. Maybe it’s my evolving taste, but those fresh, aquatic fougères now strike me as a bit generic. I’ve worn them for years, but today they lack the intrigue they once held. So while Jazz has always been a perfect 10 in my book, I’m nudging it down just a notch.
Still, make no mistake—YSL Jazz is a beautifully crafted fragrance. If you’re a fan of the Fougère genre, this one deserves a spot on your skin. It’s a scent that tells a story, bridging eras with style and sophistication.
9.5/10
One of the most exciting parts is spotting the building blocks—the naturals and synthetics—that give a perfume its soul. Each raw material has its own unmistakable identity. Once you’ve smelled it in isolation, it’s like recognizing a familiar face in a crowd. And some of these materials are so overdosed, they practically shout their presence.
Take Dihydro Myrcenol, for example. If you’ve ever smelled a men’s fragrance in the last few decades, chances are you’ve met this fresh, blue, limey, lavender-tinged note. It’s the backbone of countless perfumes, most famously Davidoff’s Cool Water by Pierre Bourdon. That scent was so iconic, Dihydro Myrcenol became its olfactory signature. But it doesn’t stop there—you’ll find it in Dior’s Sauvage, Chanel’s Allure Homme, and hundreds more. Once you’ve smelled it solo, it starts popping up everywhere—even in perfumes you thought you knew inside out—which brings me to YSL Jazz.
I’ve worn Jazz for nearly a decade. It’s one of my all-time favorite Aromatic Fougères—crisp, clean, spicy, woody, and effortlessly elegant. It’s the kind of scent that fits any occasion, and I’ve gone through multiple bottles over the years. And in my mind, it's always belonged to the previous generation of fougeres—that came after Azzaro pour Homme but before Cool Water. But today, after a long hiatus, I sprayed it on and—bam! —a tidal wave of Dihydro Myrcenol hit me square in the nose. It was like rediscovering an old friend who had a side I never knew about.
What’s fascinating is how Jazz, released the same year as Cool Water, straddles two generations of Fougères. It carries the spicy, mossy, leathery DNA of classic perfumery, while also hinting at the fresh, blue accords that would dominate the decades to come. It’s a transitional masterpiece—part vintage, part modern.
That said, the “blue accord” felt a bit too familiar this time around. Maybe it’s my evolving taste, but those fresh, aquatic fougères now strike me as a bit generic. I’ve worn them for years, but today they lack the intrigue they once held. So while Jazz has always been a perfect 10 in my book, I’m nudging it down just a notch.
Still, make no mistake—YSL Jazz is a beautifully crafted fragrance. If you’re a fan of the Fougère genre, this one deserves a spot on your skin. It’s a scent that tells a story, bridging eras with style and sophistication.
9.5/10
