Vent Vert (Green Wind) introduced strong green notes into its floral mix. "Now flowers came with their foliage" notes Roja Dove.
Turin describes its "bitter green-galbanum" opening, making way for "the most beautiful golden rose-jasmine accord…fading to a powdery dry down." The original consisted of "upward of eleven hundred components."
Barbara Herman calls it "savage, fierce and raw,"…"with its scent of freshly picked flowers, a green soapy rose, and bent stems with crushed herbs mixed in for spiciness."
For me, it was a dry rose floral mix, a weaker version of Lalique's rose/pepper chypre, Perles. Interesting, but not outstanding.
Top notes: Galbanum, Gardenia, Peach, Neroli, Lemon, Lime, Bergamot
Heart notes: Rose, Muguet, Hyacinth, Orris, Jasmine, Freesia, Ylang, Violet, Targetes
Base notes: Oakmoss, Vetiver, Styrax, Musk, Sandalwood, Sage, Iris, Amber
Vintage Vent Vert (Green Wind in English) by Balmain might be a perfect fragrance. This green juice is everything is aspires to be, a cold Spring breeze with the scent of new growth and moss and early flowers. It is in the family of Chanel No.19, without the hard green bite, or leather, or a lighter Untitled by Margiela Martin without the incense. If you are a green fragrance lover, I can not see you not loving this one. Turn this review green with my green thumbs up!
Leonard Bernstein once said about Beethoven's music that it had "shocking rightness", and I can't think of a better description of Vent Vert. Real VV (peace be to Calice Becker, but there is only one) is a stunningly accomplished, gorgeous composition that blows in from Someplace Else and just knocks you on your ass, a world-class beauty with a wild green outsider soul. It is my favorite perfume of all time.
01st December, 2011 (last edited: 14th November, 2014)
vent vert was my first scent when i was a teenager - other than 4711, which i never thought of in the same way - it was something you could wash your hair with if you needed to -
vent vert extrait came to me in an ounce bottle that was contraband, having been unlawfully imported into the country by the crew of one of Hapag-Lloyd's ships at the begining of the 60s. of course this added to the glamour, as did the fact that nobody - nobody - else had anything remotely like it (it was not available in the country at that time). it had a greeny-golden viscous nature that reminded everyone immediately of absinthe, and like absinthe there was a core of sweetness inside the various bitter and green and resiny odours.
yes, it was very fresh and cold. like spring, which lasts about a day and a half here, cold and wet but with the burgeoning green scent of the natural world growing beyond our control - and then the sun comes out and all the whiffs and teasing trails of flower just glitter in the light.
i miss it.
Vent Vert conjures spring, but not in the traditional sense of baby animals, bulb flowers and Easter parades. It is that small window of tolerable, damp chill before everyone carps about the heat incessantly. Therefore, Vent Vert is harsh like a cold rain blowing in your face. I smell old school lily of the valley bath cubes with a hefty dose of galbanum from the start. You can make out roses and lilac in the heart, but there is a skank note in it like pond sludge. The iconoclastic Germaine Cellier famously worked with chemical bases. This is meant to smell kinky. Ian Fleming loved this scent, and in Live and Let Die, voodoo queen Solitaire wore it. That makes perfect sense to me, because it is frigid, other worldly and clean. There is some nice civet in the base to off set this. It also smells really good in industrial areas, because you smell chemicals and cleaning products in it. There is rubber that reminds me of Bandit, which is the dominatrix, while Vent Vert is the naughty nurse.