UntermWert

With this review, I would like to compare the new Francesca Bianchi fragrance Orris Soyeux with the originally released "Cuir Soyeux | Francesca Bianchi," which was exclusively launched for the Perfumelounge in strict limitation. A beautiful scent profile did not directly emerge during today's test, so I will limit myself to a factual description as far as possible. The new fragrance has been released as part of a series under the Annindriya label, which features several fragrances from different perfumers. However, I have not yet researched this extensively.
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Since I had the great luck that a dear friend lent me the Cuir Soyeux some time ago, I can provide a direct comparison and a first impression. Both fragrances have a floral-spicy, powdery, and soft-leathery progression.
Pragmatically speaking, the following changes have been made based on the listed notes: new additions include aldehydes, bergamot, patchouli, and ambroxan - which has actually become a disqualifying factor for me. However, here it does not overpower the scent but rather keeps it more awake and zesty together with the aldehydes and bergamot. Additionally, notes have been exchanged: iris for iris root and heliotrope for heliotropin. The new fragrance feels a bit lighter here, and the typical Bianchi iris butter note does not seem as dense.
Overall, there is a clear resemblance to the original fragrance - the Cuir Soyeux develops a bit softer, silkier, and spicier on me, while the leather note seems very similar; it recedes into the background in the Orris Soyeux, which instead takes on a very slight earthy undertone from the patchouli, giving it a classic-elegant touch. On a cotton ball, the Orris Soyeux smells a bit sharper, likely due to the synthetics used.

In my area, it is very warm today and somewhat oppressive (a weather condition I often find uncomfortable, and during which I tolerate only a few fragrances well). I experience both scents as very floral - I attribute this to the magnolia, although I am not sure I know exactly how magnolia actually smells in perfumes. Over time, both become a bit more powdery, but in the sense of a floral-spicy powderiness, without becoming stuffy. Normally, I prefer the Cuir Soyeux more in autumn, as the spicy and leathery notes become more pronounced then.
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First conclusion: Since the Cuir Soyeux is no longer produced, I believe this presents an interesting alternative that I consider worth testing. However, one should generally be open to the synthetics contained within. I find them well integrated. The fragrances have a great similarity, but they will certainly develop with very different focuses depending on skin chemistry. Like many of the "early" Bianchis, both also remind me a bit of perfumes from "back then," rather dense, concentrated, drops behind the ear. A strongly pronounced animalic note is not present; perhaps softly through the daffodil in the Cuir Soyeux, but certainly not overwhelming. The Orris Soyeux strikes me as a bit more modern. As is typical for Francesca Bianchi, both fragrances are quite potent, so I recommend a sparing application. Due to the weather, I cannot currently provide a reliable statement on longevity, but I also expect above-average endurance.

I have a feeling that this review may be incomplete due to the weather and my current state of mind, and I will consider adding to it at a later time.

With heartfelt thanks to Lacrimula.
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Additions:
1) The longevity is already quite strong - therefore, I personally tend to rate it between 7.5 and 8, as I can imagine that the scent might quickly become too much for me.

Dalí (Eau de Toilette) gives me a peppery sharp opening - brief like a hissing civet greeting. The note is not listed, but the scent is definitely underpinned by a typical 80s animalic, whipped with aldehydes, before transitioning into a spicy-floral, where comforting, only slightly sweet resins (foremost a protective myrrh), sandalwood, and musk tame the wildness and bring it back to a divan... as it becomes ever softer, silkier, until it dozes off into a sense of security...
A beautiful, grand scent cinema that would certainly clear a room with today's usual zeitgeist dosage while simultaneously narcotizing the wearer...
However, if you dab (!!!), the sharpness remains only briefly, and unmoosy chypre depths open up, inviting you into a blooming-spicy labyrinth of olfactory experiences, conjuring surreal yet comforting images... Dalí worlds as a backdrop.

And I already feel transported back to the 80s, to the arthouse cinema where the wonderful film "Labyrinth" with David Bowie as the Goblin King led through childlike-teenage dream worlds. As if the scent had been the godfather for the olfactory background*). There were also Escher stairs.
A film about sibling jealousy, pubescent melancholy, the longing for a secret, personal world, the art of seduction (today one would call it grooming and probably view it critically, as Jareth lures the girl into his labyrinth with a trick, in which he is actually lonely with his entourage of simple-minded goblins)... the occasional losing oneself... emancipating and finding oneself again... and in the end, they are all saved and celebrate a raucous feast.

I can't pick out all the notes individually, but the overall picture is an opulent intoxication of scent moods, of which one may be adult-elegant, another an eccentric appearance, and yet another a gaze into the stars.
A scent that you can't just casually wear, not an everyday fragrance, but one that you have to engage with. Then new gates and paths open up time and again.
And it awakens longing - for the loving perfumer's art "from back then".

After initially acquiring a mini for a scent time travel, a bottle has now moved in with me.

… a little vintage mosquito has stung me.



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*) in the film, there was also the "Moor of Eternal Stench," which does not appear in the Dalí scent... perhaps it would be categorized with oud and skunk & co. in the Fiona segment. I associate Dalí more with the dancing fire devils as well as the dream sequence in the crystal ball.
I recommend the soundtrack to the film.

Addendum: whether it is the version from 1983 or a later one, I can't say for sure - it is definitely not "new" - in the meantime, I have a 1995 bottle that smells very similar overall. I'm not sure if I own "old" and "reformulated," or just "reformulated." I'll leave the review here as I perceive the scent overall as described. Great scent cinema. I am very glad to own it.

Angelo describes this fragrance as a tribute to his grandmother, her kindness, and her love for Chypre scents. And with this, he has truly erected a monument to her: a scent portrait full of warmth. With closed eyes, I smell the flowers in grandmother's embrace. The light as it shines through the curtain of her living room window. I am part of the scent picture, where the child gathers its memories, filled with security.

The fragrance reminds me in its deep emotionality of Après l‘Ondée without the violet and actually quite different… but melancholic, in loving memory, absolutely wearable, even though Angelo describes it as a work of fragrance art, not as a perfume. The perfumer has created a memento of his grandmother Angeliki, who lived to be 104 years old. And every year on the anniversary of her death, a batch of 104 bottles is to be released - what a wonderful gesture, with which the memory is continually refreshed and the love for this person lives on forever. There is simply nothing more to say, except to bow in humility before his generosity, to be allowed to partake olfactorily in this private experience, to let oneself drift and enjoy the beauty of the fragrance.
And yet it is absolutely wearable, has classic references, with unspeakable depth, and simply smells beautiful, floral, and inviting. The countless fragrance notes are complex and at the same time very harmoniously intertwined, carried by aldehydes and friendly animalic notes. It is difficult for me to pick them out individually, although I believe I can most readily perceive lilac and freesia and the coziness of well-blended resins and beeswax - the mood is very loving and beautiful.

I wore it in the evening, and the next morning I still distinctly smell garden carnation on my shirt alongside floral memories on a fine skin note.
To my happiness, I realize, because the carnation can sometimes be too much for me, and so it keeps me from throwing my good intentions overboard and chasing after this rare piece…

(with utmost thanks to Gandix for the opportunity to get to know this noble and special fragrance)
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Addendum: even though the fragrance has deeply moved me, I would like to note here that one should definitely test it in peace. At first sniff, I almost let myself be swept away into a spontaneous purchase, but it was only the next day that I noticed that we ultimately do not match 100%. I would also like to point out that one should indeed like animalic notes, as they are definitely present. This review is my very subjective scent experience.
And lastly: on the official website, there is also a disclaimer regarding the fragrance concentration - this should definitely be taken into account.

The sun is still low over the rooftops, the chill of the desert night has not yet faded.
A beam of light falls on a wash set on the nightstand, the aromas of sandalwood soap and a bouquet of flowers dance on a gentle breeze and fill the room with clear purity.

Narjis opens with a citrusy bitterness, with angelica providing an exciting counterpoint to orange and bergamot, like a delicate, transparent curtain through which a bouquet of flowers shimmers in fine light. I imagine a few morning sun rays in a chamber from 1001 Nights. No heavy curtains, spices, or fruits, but a mysterious, slightly soapy-floral whisper, rather cool. Very exciting, the daffodil takes the lead, with ylang and osmanthus forming the framework. I attribute the soapy impression to musk and sandalwood, while iris and vetiver then create a beautiful contrast in the base that keeps the fragrance moving and prevents it from drifting into fluffiness. The citrusy impression also remains. However, the star of the fragrance is the daffodil. I really like it.
An extraordinary, beautiful scent that plays with contrasts, sometimes like a fresh breeze, sometimes quite subtly floral-powdery, but always a bit bitter, not too pleasing. Definitely not a "crowd-pleaser," but one that you have to engage with.
Exciting.
I will revisit this and the daffodil for spring.

Addendum: upon "proper wearing," I adjust my rating up to 9… and I want it… I have to say it like this, I think I smell extraordinarily good with it.

(with heartfelt thanks to Susan)

Winter holidays. Playing a computer game quietly in my pajamas one more time in the evening. The scents of secretly stashed sweets linger sweet-spicy in the dark warmth of the children's room. Losing track of time, solving puzzles from The Pawn, pixelated graphics open gates to other worlds. Strangely slowed down, yet simultaneously focused and floating, an intense olfactory experience and still so innocent before the first cigarette...

I experience Musc des Sables as immediately extremely sweet-spicy and while I think to myself that it probably isn’t for me, the brand feels too gourmand, my nose is magnetically drawn to the arm by benzoin and musk... and I hear myself thinking “wow, how cool” (with a slight youthful squeak in my voice). I don’t know how cold it would have to be for me to wear this fragrance properly - but like paralyzed, lost in thought, I enjoy this deep sweet spiciness, benzoin, bitter almond, cardamom... carried by patchouli and iris - a thickened childhood dream of a fantasy world in slow motion, peace, playfulness in slow motion, wrapped in a powdery cloud of the golden hour.

Somehow beautiful, but I don’t think I can slow down so much that it wouldn’t paralyze me to be perfumed with it.

Classy, and in an unusual way psychedelic.

With heartfelt thanks to Rieke2021.