Turandot

Harvesting an armful of fragrant blooms in the gardens of Highgrove is surely a royal pleasure. Until now, I was familiar with King Charles III's estate mainly due to its ecological gardening and farming, but like many of the old noble seats, the venerable walls could certainly tell many stories. Now, a perfume has been dedicated to it by the court supplier. Whether the king, or at the time Prince Charles, really contributed to the creation, we will just leave hanging in the air. I suspect the result was presented to him, and his okay was obtained.

The scent radiates friendliness for me. In the opening, Highgrove Bouquet reminds me of a carefree holiday day in nature. The powdery freshness lasts surprisingly long on my skin, and the floral notes keep each other in check: the linden blossom does not become too sweet, and the tuberoses do not want to exude sensuality this time, but rather lend depth to the fragrance. The powdery iris prevents the lavender from giving the scent too much of a masculine touch, and what I find very pleasant is the fact that in the dry down, neither tonka nor sandalwood, and certainly not vanilla, come into play, but rather the cooler cedar rounds off the fragrance. This is also the reason why this day in the garden of Highgrove does not fade away in nature, but the bouquet is brought into the house. Now I sense a note that vaguely reminds me of a high-quality furniture polish, which gives the scent a sense of solidity and warmth, thus doing justice to the significance of Highgrove House.

In my over 10 years of perfume experience, I have tested 36 fragrances from Penhaligon's according to my records. Two have made it into my collection over time, a few more are still in my memory, but that’s about it. It is simply the case that I quite like most of the house's fragrances, none of the tested perfumes have left an unpleasant memory, but they haven’t sparked real enthusiasm either, and no one is waiting for attention on my watchlist. And so it is with Highgrove Bouquet. The scent is pleasant, fine, seems solid and noble to me, but to sacrifice 180.00 euros from my savings for that just doesn’t seem justified, even though I will certainly enjoy using the sample from the sharing.

Delphine Thierry, known to some of us as a perfumer at Lubin and thus the nose behind, for example, Akaad, takes us with the scents of Hima jomo from the French Mediterranean coast around Grasse to the heights of the Himalayas and its special atmosphere.

While I was disappointed by "Himalaya" from Creed, which dedicated such a pleasing scent to the mightiest mountain range in the world, reminding me more of the lovely regions of our Alps, I feel a completely different approach with the first spray of "Spring in Bome." Here, the still icy coolness of spring in, for example, Tibet or Nepal is painted in an olfactory image that immediately commands my reverence for the seat of the gods.

The top note will likely brush against all those who associate spring with lily of the valley, romance, or lovely floral scents. This spring here is powerful, almost a bit harsh, but no less in a state of awakening and a tribute to the majesty of the area and the resurrection of nature after the long and, in the Himalayas, still icy winter.

But to all the anxious souls who might dismiss it from the outset, it must be said: Elegance and dignity, calmness in the soul, and almost a little invitation to meditation are not lacking in "Spring in Bome." This is already promised by the warm yet professional manner of Delphine Thierry, which one could get to know in the 360° video "Eccentrics of Scents." I highly recommend it to anyone who hasn't seen it yet.

The rather serious impression of the scent is, despite the flowers in the pyramid, nevertheless predominant throughout. But even in the dry down, the bitter notes are, so to speak, refined with a floral scent. The spikenard is rarely used, but here I particularly like it, as - by the way, also with the tuberose in the heart note - the boundary to stuffiness or heaviness is never crossed.

Now all that remains for me is to curb my impatience and spend the day with Spring in Bome before I turn to the other seasons in the Himalayas. I can only recommend the brand's sample set, and I suspect that my collection will expand with one or another scent from the brand.

Addendum on 2.7.2022: The order is placed, and the price for the discovery set will be credited against the price of the scent. I like Spring in Bome the best of the series, but I also recommend testing the other scents. Delphine Thierry has focused on using sustainable ingredients for these new perfumes, giving the scents a very special flair.

The scents from Santa Maria Novella have always been something special in my collection. I have experienced them as exceptional, often with a strong recognizability and always with character. Therefore, my eagerness to grab the new fragrance as soon as it was announced can be explained by my curiosity for a new highlight, as I usually hold back on blind purchases. The pretty vintage bottle also played its part. And nowadays, you can order the fragrances online, which wasn't the case for many years. The presentation is truly high-quality. With the delivery, you receive an original sample of the fragrance, so it can be tested before the packaging is opened. I was surprised that this time a perfumer is mentioned, and an illustrious name from this profession at that. Gian Luca Perris is known to me only in connection with Perris Monte Carlo, but I expected nothing less than greatness from him.

That iris, the root of the bearded lily, only appears in the base, while galbanum provides the opening, sounded interesting to me, and I expected the floral heart note to be rather powerful, as I am used to from the perfumes of Santa Maria Novella. Thus, I got to know my new acquisition.

Well, what can I say. L'Iris is a subtle, fresh-floral, and rather cool iris scent. The iris here does not show its sweeter and powdery side, but rather reminds me more of Hiris by Hermès with a hint of carrot aroma. However, one searches in vain for an exceptional character like that found in Melograno, Calicanthus, or Cala Rossa. That would be disappointment enough for me. But the fact that the scent is hardly perceptible on my skin after just an hour is something I cannot reconcile with my previous experiences with Santa Maria Novella. I have not dealt enough with Perris Monte Carlo to draw comparisons. I do not know which perfumers have worked for Santa Maria Novella in the past. However, in my opinion, the commission to Gian Luca Perris has not been a lucky choice for the brand. I hope the next fragrances from this house will have more expression and character again.

I can remember that many years ago, there was a legend circulating that Jacques Guerlain and Ernest Beaux were actually quite good friends. They supposedly met regularly over a good glass of wine and discussed their craft. Late into the evening, they would talk about each other's most successful fragrance and agreed on an experiment: Jacques Guerlain would try to copy N°5, while Ernest Beaux was tasked with resurrecting Shalimar in the spirit of Chanel. Both got to work, and Jacques Guerlain "delivered" his take on N°5 with Liu. And what became of his counterpart?? The world is still waiting for Shalimar to have inspired a Chanel fragrance. Well, if it wasn't true, it was certainly well invented ;-) A similarity to N°5 cannot be denied in Liu, yet I can clearly recognize the Guerlain DNA. I find N°5 cooler, more sterile, if you will, more arrogant than Liu, although the pyramid seems to be significantly more diverse. Liu, on the other hand, has for me the Guerlain smile, that harmony that is characteristic of all historical Guerlain fragrances and to which the famous Guerlinade is attributed. This is also the reason why I have now acquired Liu, as I associate N°5 with a time that is definitively over for me, while I only got to know Liu here on Parfumo.

More is more? Just pour it all in! No, even though a cornucopia of specialties is presented to me at first glance. Liz Moores certainly didn't make it that easy. I am convinced that each note has its very specific effect, its justification, and a reason why it must contribute to the completion of Dryad. And I envy all the commentators who understand this scent, can read it, appreciate it, would wear it with enthusiasm, and have set up a monument to it here.

And now I must confess: I am probably too simply structured for that. Dryad doesn't even trigger a mental cinema for me, because I would need to find a common thread for that. With my preferences for minimalism, this is just too much. I am convinced that from the ingredients shown to us by the Parfumo database for Dryad, many other perfumers could create at least two, if not three expressive perfumes without having to compromise on quality.
Chypre, animalic notes, spices, and resins from the realms of the Orient all at once, that overwhelms me. And after hours on the skin, I find only an indefinable medley that no longer elicits any particular reaction from me.

Is this a harsh criticism? No, not at all. It is rather a confession of my rather simply structured preference for scents that hold up a mirror to me, speak to my self, and do not want to overwhelm me with all the glory of the earth at once. Even the forest spirits, nymphs, fauns, and dryads wouldn't need to come with such overwhelming presence to create an olfactory representation. For example, L'Original, Cedre by Lutens, or Feminite du bois achieve this with significantly fewer fragrance notes, but for me with more contour.