It says a lot about Fracas that there are now a couple of other serious contenders for the title of Greatest Tuberose Perfume on Earth. Frederic Malle's Carnal Flower, created by the maestro Dominique Ropion, apparently contains more natural tuberose essence than any other perfume of its type, and bears an appropriate price tag. By Killian's Beyond Love, authored by the great Calice Becker, was declared "the greatest tuberose soliflore on earth" by none other than Luca Turin, and costs a good bit itself. I can't imagine that either of these would have existed without the Germain Cellier's original, the benchmark in Fierce Perfumery.
Fracas isn't as insane-smelling as some people might have you believe. Yes, it's primarily tuberose, but it's focused, with citrus (bergamot and mandarin) and greens--a combination of unnamed "green notes" on the top and lily-of-the-valley in the heart. And Fracas has a directness and a freshness that doesn't quit. Both Carnal Flower and Beyond Love have their tuberose smoothed by coconut, which is fabulous--but they're tropical, and at the end of the day, Fracas is almost tips over into greenness.
Something about Fracas puts the Fear in people. I wonder if this, like Poison, is one of those perfumes that people don't know how to wear. (It's definitely a walk-into-the-spritzed-cloud kind of a scent). Or maybe it's a chemistry thing. On me, it's a glorious, creamy, silky floral. But it doesn't run the men off. I promise.
(Full disclosure: we have a history. I wore Fracas during some serious high roller years, and its smell reminds me of rooftop cocktails and the sound of Vespas, standing backstage in five inch heels and shopping for La Perla silk slips, drinking champagne in business class and dancing to Kruder and Dorfmeister in basement bars, and endless talking and traveling and talking and traveling. Fracas brings back glorious memories, and thank goodness the reformulation hasn't FUBARed it.)
So if you ask me, this is the greatest tuberose perfume ever. It costs about a third of the competition (if you look around a little) and it hits on all four cylinders. I agree that the competitors are excellent, but this is the queen. Everything else has been--to my nose--fashioned in its image.
Incidentally, I'm all for playing against stereotypes in fashion. I don't think anyone has to dress for their body type, or wear their hair a certain way, or otherwise follow the dictates of convention. I'm sure there are plenty of blondes on whom the great brunette perfumes (like Chanel Coco and YSL Opium) smell terrific. But are there people who have no personality who can wear Fracas?
you love it or hate it!
no middle ground,it is a take no prisoners fragrance.
i love it. its my signature scent.
so you will just have to deal. ha!
Huge tuberose explosion indeed, that never settles..For me is too overwhelming, too much. For the respect of the legend I tried long enough to like it just for a neutral opinion, but oh no..! This is the kind that makes me wonder how come that other would like this :masterpiece"
My wife was very impresed at the first sniff of this tuberose, flowers scent.. She wears daily EDEN..
Perception.. you know..?!
Purchased the pure parfum 'cause a little dab'll do ya, dontcha' know?
Hell's bells this is some gorgeous tuberose! Don't think I've underestimated the power...oh no! I only wear this freakishly fabulous delight when I'm feeling and looking my best. No reason for someone to get whiplash and not have an eye-full, right? This requires a long, fitted skirt, I think. A short tweed jacket paired with a silk blouse. Tall boots. Feminine, without being overtly sensuous. The Fracas takes care of that, I do believe.
I seriously doubt I need to write much more. Do you?
To me, Fracas is every bit the masterpiece it is purported to be, the ultimate reference tuberose. I love white flower fragrances and have acquired a number of them over the years, across a wide range of pricepoints and labels: beautiful as each might seem on its own, next to Fracas they seem either limp or starchy. I find Fracas exquisitely balanced between delicacy and exuberance, even in its 2015 reformulated iteration.
A friend who does not share my perfume obsession, once remarked that surely a drugstore 'gardenia' must smell as good as any other white floral, regardless of reputation or history - so I sprayed a reasonably faithful tuberose/gardenia blend on one wrist and Fracas on the other, waited fifteen minutes, and let him smell them. He just blinked and shook his head. Not even close.
Hello daddy, hello mom, I'm your wuh-wuh-wuh-wuh-wuh-wuh-ite flower bomb.
In a world dominated by elevator-friendly white-noise scents, I get a gleeful kick out of bringing this one out to play every once in a while. It annoys the shit out of my husband, too. One eensy spritz, judiciously applied at the start of the day, will have him hound-dogging his nose in the air through at least late afternoon, protesting, "What on earth did you spray this time?"
Oh, honey, only one of the world's greatest, if polarizing, florals. Deal with it.