Safran Troublant opens with an extremely realistic smell of saffron, and I mean the actual ground saffron you can buy at the drugstore, just lightly enhanced by rose and vanilla, both blending with the floral and sweeter sides of saffron. The whole, quite simple ensemble is topped with a nose-tingling spicy note resembling to cumin, a slightly cheaper hint of eugenol (cloves, basically) and an odd, almost random touch that reminds me of a sort of a damp lemongrass-infused tampon - it may sound bizarre, but it works. I think it’s due to rose. Anyway that’s it, a graceful and quite refined blend of thin spices and gentle powdery-sweet accents, with a fascinating sort of subtle, almost transparent texture revolving around the edible heart of saffron. And well, a couple of cheap nuances, but tolerably covered by the good parts. The notes may make it seem a thick Oriental “bomb”, while on the contrary it has more of a British presence – diaphanous and discreet, with a sophisticated sort of camphorous, musky, earthy yet smooth cashmere-suede feel (I think due to saffron) that adds some further elegance to this mannered blend, slightly reminding me of Hermès Cuir d’Ange. I admit this fragrance is fairly pleasant to wear, at least for the first phases of its evolution, but there’s a gigantic flaw I can’t avoid to mention and which sadly, makes Safran Troublant look like (as so many - too many niche scents) a half-baked work: the longevity, which is unacceptably short and really subtle for my tastes. Way too much. Within 20-30 minutes, you already remain with the faint, nondescript drydown it should have after 5 or 6 hours. A time machine in a bottle. Still, one of L’Artisan Parfumeur’s scents I enjoyed the most.
This is delicious; a Perfumery equivalent of a Custard Tart but with Clove rather than Nutmeg. It opens soft and Vanilla sweet. Gradually Clove appears; the whole is beautifully blended. There may be some Saffron there but if there is I can hardly detect it. Judging by the colour of the fragrance, if there is some Saffron it is just a smidgeon, or a colourless variety was used.
Wish it lasted longer, but I'm happy with the strength. All in all a "thumbs up".
A light (and I do mean light) saffron with light spices and vanilla. Nothing complicated (not a bad thing).A light (and i do mean light)rose note sneaks in there in a few minutes. Caution: The projection and longevity on ST is very weak. A great smelling fragrance nonetheless.
Olivia Giacobetti has a way of combining disparate elements to make something that while surprising is never shocking. Unexpected, but perfectly coherent when you think about it. The sweet and salty hay of Dzing! The smoked-lily soap of Passage d’Enfer.
It’s a delicious way of changing our reality. The trick is neither fantastical nor over-the-top. She gives us something that doesn't really exist, but easily could since it makes perfect sense. In Safran Troublant, she doesn't give us a talking bear or a winged horse. She gives us a rose/saffron marshmallow. Not only is this imaginable, it starts to convinces me that I might actually have eaten one of these marshmallow at some time or other. The perfume is so persuasive that I question myself. Is the perfume a memory or an imagination? Giacobetti speculates so effectively that I question the experience, but she does it so deftly that ultimately I don't care. It's as if I'm day-dreaming. My mind eases a bit and I become more mindful and less perplexed.
Some perfumes call to mind comparisons to the visual arts. The portraiture of the soliflor. The fruity-floral as a still-life image. The abstract expressionism of Timbuktu. Giacobetti breaks into the written word with her perfume. Safran Troublant is literary fiction. It is the perfect short story. I don’t know of any other perfumer who does this.
I love the creamy initial blast of saffron and rose, but the rose soon leaves and I am left with a medicinal clove-like after scent of the saffron and a bland vanilla.
Very light and not very long lasting.
A for originality, D for follow-through.