2003 Neiman Marcus gives me it's card, with a big whopping
Credit Line. First purchase was a 2002 Vintage EDP for my
life's partner. She had initially seduced me with Chanel 5, that is imprinted in my brain. However, when I sniffed 24 Faubourg, I said to myself, this stuff is so utterly Luxurious Feminine, it belongs to my girl.
Well, for some reason, my Queen chooses not to wear it and 75ml remains.
I wear her No 5 occasionally, but once in a while I steal a spritz of this gem, to remind me of it's dreamy Goddess-like beauty.
This review is for a vintage EdP from 2000. The first thing I would like to say is that this is the single most divine parfum I have ever smelt in my life. It smells so good in fact that I think it could replace Guerlain's L'Heure Bleue as my signature or at least share signature status.
I do not have a very well tutored nose, but I definitely smell the orange blossom, gardenia, and jasmine, as well as the orange top note. I believe I detect honey and a bit of sandalwood in the deep dry down. I cannot detect any patchouli in this parfum. 24F is quite sweet but in the very best possible sense of the word--a very sophisticated sweetness not a candy, sugary sweetness. I do not find it to be particularly powdery, though.
This is an extremely well blended parfum, and I can certainly understand why so many wearers simply adore this fragrance. It smells so delicious that I could bathe in it! It can indeed be described as a special fragrance to wear on special occasions, but for me, something this fabulous will be in regular rotation. It is just too wonderful for me to wait to use it just a few times per year. This would be the most fabulous wedding day parfum. : )
The one thing I expected but did not find in it was the monster projection and sillage so many reviewers have mentioned. I sprayed two big sprays, one on each wrist, and whilst it projected fine and had some sillage upon first application, after about thirty minutes the projection was only about one or two feet at most, and the sillage was quite gentle. It performed much the same as current Chanels.
After three hours, 24 became a skin scent on me. It is possible that someone around me may still have smelt it quite well, but I was alone and had no one to ask. I will try to ask someone the next time after about three hours if they can smell it on me very well if they get within perhaps three feet of me. I was a bit disappointed in the lack of monster projection and sillage so many have described, but it does not change my overall opinion of this wonderful, heavenly parfum.
Projection: 6/10 after the first hour. 1/10 after three hours.
Sillage: 6/10 after the first hour. 1/10 after three hours.
If the 1990s are really back, fashion-wise, we need to take them as a whole. As someone who lived through the entire decade, I feel like it's my duty to point out that not everyone in the world was unwashed in flannel clothing, wearing linear Calone water, for an entire decade. By the mid-nineties, grunge was dead. So was the whole idea of fashion as some kind of reaction to 80s excess. The same year Chanel released its (massive hit) Vamp nail polish, Hermes launched 24 Faubourg, Maurice Roucel's unapologetic layer cake of floral more-ness. These were like clarion calls that luxe was back.
Sometimes I find that these luxurious perfumes express themselves at the expense of freshness, especially when the perfume is a particularly noisy soliflore like tuberose or a huge blended floral like 24 Faubourg. I enjoy these types of perfumes, but in their presence I sometimes get the feeling that the air I am breathing may be fragrant, but it is also stale. I find myself straining for oxygen like a swimmer above the perfume's silage.
This is, I think, a function of a perfume's construction. From what I can tell, Maurice Roucel has used very minimal aldehydes in 24 Faubourg, which gives its texture a sense of solidity. Instead of throwing off bits and pieces of its large white choral accord, the whole composition hangs in the air, suspended and majestic. At its top is a jasmine dripping with honey, hinting at gardenia, suggesting late spring and decadent nights, with indole to keep things lively and radiance to indicate luxury. Below the white flowers lies a gorgeous, juicy (not earthy) iris buttressed with cedar. The whole bouquet sits on just enough vanilla and salinity to keep it all from needing regular pruning and watering.
I don't know how this perfume does it, but it still leaves room to breathe. There's somehow just enough little pockets of space left in 24 Faubourg that you don't feel suffocated within it. And the just-on-the-edge-of-overripe, animalic drydown is gorgeous. Not only is 24 Faubourg wearable--it's haunting. The last time I smelled it, I pined for weeks until I finally broke down and bought a bottle.
I'm almost sure this is the power of suggestion and nothing else, but I smell the DNA of older Hermes releases in here. Something in this perfume suggests a little neroli and orange; something else suggests amber. Nothing in this fragrance is daring or unusual, except its over-the-top neoclassicism. I love the idea of just a spritz of this with one of my old rock t shirts and jeans. Wearing 24 Faubourg like that would be adding a bit of transgressive fun to an otherwise samey night.
I feel like a queen when I wear this one. It's so beautiful.
This is a gentle and restrained white floral, quite light, and a true tribute to the scent of jasmine. It has a light menthol-like dry down.
Top notes: Neroli, Jasmine Sambac
Heart notes: Iris, Vanilla
Base notes: Amber, Patchouli
Turin gives it four stars and names it a "honeyed floral."
It is recommended for the very young woman - in her early twenties.
Very nice, sophisticated, complex.