L'Herbe Rouge (2002)
by Ayala Moriel

Lemongrass is the centre of this scent, exerting its strong lemony – grassy presence. Hay absolute combines with the lemongrass to create a sweet, “hay field in the sun” chord. Some aromatic notes from the clove bud, lavender and juniper berry add interest at the beginning, but they quickly make way for the lemongrass.

Move over, Jicky. I'm going to get into trouble for saying this, but I prefer L'Herbe Rouge to Jicky. Admittedly, I am not comparing them side-by-side, nor am I claiming that they smell alike. Jicky has more animalic, leathery notes.
However, both are lemon-lavender-hay-amber fougeres. Whereas one has undergone centuries of adjustments in its manufacturing process, the other is a new, all-natural, handmade fragrance. L'Herbe Rouge smells zingier, more spirited, more alive. It is full of grasses, hay absolute, lemongrass, lavendar, even vetiver, plus red carnation. This results in a three-dimensional aroma that is the hallmark of quality ingredients. It isn't creamy or leathery like Jicky, but it sure takes you outdoors.
At first, it smells of lemon, but it changed slowly and surely until I wondered if I had accidentally applied it over something else--something deeper, sweeter, woodier.
The grasses are rustling in the dry wind. A haystack dries to sweetness in the sun. The herbs are crushed underfoot. A meadowlark sings on a fencepost. It is late summer, and I am outside. The different notes move around, unlike a "wall of fragrance" that signifies cheap perfume.
This is listed as a men's fragrance but, like Jicky, that should not deter women from wearing it.

L'Herbe Rouge opens with a green, bitter lavender, followed almost immediately by a very sweet, juicy orange. The bright citrus persists as unusually smooth green herbal notes emerge to round out the heart accord.

The lavender herbs become at once earthy and creamy, almost suggesting coconut (?!), while the citrus takes on a very tart, acidic quality. At this point L'Herbe Rouge is almost two different scents at once; rich, dry, and earthy side by side with thin, brisk, and tart; neither component interacting with the other. The effect is extremely odd, but I'm not sure whether or not I like it.

An hour or more into the development, the fruit and the herbs integrate into a soft, slightly sweet accord, but there is discordant sour note on top of it that I find quite disturbing. The sour note eventually recedes, leaving a mild, slightly bittersweet, herbaceous drydown that fades away rather quickly. After two or three hours I can't detect L'Herbe Rouge at all.

In the end, this scent leaves me a little bit puzzled, but not really intrigued enough to spend a lot of time figuring it out. My suspicion is that this fragrance needs different skin than mine to develop properly.