I experience it as a light fruity rose. Turin described it as a "woody rose." Yet there is not a rose to be found in the note tree.
There is nothing incensey about 2 Woman. In fact there I detect none of the dark notes listed above in this very light composition.
What I experience is so light and fruity that it is over in less than ten minutes. Even if it had lasted longer, it would not be impressive. The sort of scent for those who don't care for scent, practically nonexistent after the initial application. It would work for a summer's morning, but would have to be applied often throughout the day to have any effect.
First Edit: On denser wearing (bigger splashes) the effect is that of a very transparent and perfectly balanced accord of three notes: rose, clove and vetiver. Nicer than my first experience with this scent, still too effervescent and volatile to bring it into the thumbs up category.
01st January, 2016 (last edited: 04th July, 2016)
At the opening, all i smell is powdery aldehydes with some incense, which is a bit mature to me.
After an hour mark it turns into a incense, sweet soft woody fragrance & stays almost linear.
I can barely notice it after 5-6 hours, but others do notice it on me even after 8 hours.
Can be worn all seasons, great office scent.
And yes it is different, need some time to get used to the opening.
2 starts green and metallic. Quickly, the magnolia blooms and on my skin it will be the dominant note in this fragrance. As the perfume wears, a watery vibe comes along with a tea-like accord. Although it's very floral and powdery in the middle, the sharp metallic start together with the incense that comes later, gives it a little structure. The changes are rather subtle, in the way that this is a flowery dominant fragrance with background changes (green metallic opening, powdery heart and incense woody base). Sometimes it feels a little sweaty, sometimes fuzzy or dry but every time artistic. I think this is a mood scent.
"Can I write with my tea and drink my ink?"
Its 1864. Colonel Lyle Oldershaw-Plaskitt is sitting in his dimly lighted small office, in his colonnial mansion, in the outskirts of Bangalore. He's about to start writing a letter, to inform the newly appointed Viceroy of India, Sir John Lawrence, Bt, that Bangalore's rail connection to Madras is finally completed and ready to operate. He realises, with a slight annoyance, that what is left in his inkwell is not going to suffice for more than a few words, and he silently curses himself for having failed to notice that his ink supply was that low. Unwilling to wait till morning, he decides to mix what ink is left with a dram of the strong tea he's drinking, hoping that the Viceroy will excuse this slight inappropriateness. Before being able to write down even a single word, he's utterly surprised (an extremely rare situation for a stiff upper lip British senior officer) by a heavenly smell that seems to arise from his inkwell. As close to mesmerised as a soldier of his stature could be, he slowly puts his Gillott's nib down, and reaches for the inkwell.
Next afternoon, with his skin a little darker than usual, he enters the country club, to be greeted by Brigadier Eugene Boulstridge-Smythe, who turns from glad to amazed within five seconds of standing next to him.
"Goodness gracious me Lyle, you smell divine! Any good old Atkinsons new stuff? And how on earth did you get a tan since yesterday?"
Colonel Lyle Oldershaw-Plaskitt smiles complacently and drinks a sip of his whisky.
"You shall see old friend, you shall see..."
Colonel Lyle Oldershaw-Plaskitt perished during a storm four days later en route to Ceylon, where he was heading for purchasing an unusual for an individual quantity of tea. His order of three firkins of Indian ink was already on its way, but he failed to receive them due to his untimely demise. His comrades mourned and honoured their distinguished fellow countryman with all respect, and in his memoirs, then General Eugene Boulstridge-Smythe didn't forget to mention, besides all other attributes, that Colonel Lyle Oldershaw-Plaskitt was the best-smelling man he had ever met, and what a pity it was that this magnificent and absolutely unique scent of his was sadly lost for ever under the waves surrounding Adam's Bridge.
Until one year before the new millennium, when a France-based Japanese lady, obviously not giving a damn about what people would think of such a concoction, reinvented it...
P.S.: Call me a madman if you please, but to my nose (which I'm the first to admit that it's not to be taken very seriously), and despite the fact that they barely share a couple of notes, this has a very strong resemblance to Azzaro's Acteur...
I’m reminded of a style of drawing where loose strokes, unconnected to each other, fall into place and form the image. CdG 2 has that kind of space and surety of purpose: elements will move in and out of focus depending on mood or perception on any particular day but the whole will still please. A light and billowy herbal rose, glimpses of a metallic sheen contrasted against skin tones, some smoke weaving through, CdG plays with abstraction but oh so stylishly, in a manner that is open, uncrowded and eminently wearable. The base is woody-musky in a manner that has become almost traditional now.
Avant garde it may have been in its time but one cannot imagine the intention ever having being other than to please.