My curiosity about Louve was piqued upon reading an interview with a French actor (I forget whom) who said words to the effect that she immediately knew this was for her and she could not be without it. That kind of diehard love is usually a signifier of a degree of individuality and Louve does not disappoint on that score.
The opening surge of bitter almonds brought visions of Miss Marple running from the scene of the crime, a lace-edged handkerchief clasped over her nose, muttering, ‘Cyanide gas...’ It’s a pretty shocking, no-compromise start, but the transitions start almost straight away. The almond softens considerably, grows marzipan-like for a while, there’s a suggestion of pink rosiness and, in time, the overall feel becomes more and more like cherry kisses. The volume also perceptibly drains away and the skin scent that is left is mainly candied cherries, with a hint of lactones and a little soft almond. It may not be for everyone, but I enjoyed the journey immensely (particularly the stage when the floral notes come into view) and found the destination to be a place of comfort. I do wish it would project just a little bit more, though.
Mostly almond with a hint of cherries over a mild vanillic base. Will not win you any cool points with your ~edgy iconoclast~ perfume friends, but is nevertheless a well-made, easy-to-wear fragrance that's feminine but not cloyingly girly.
Smells like Jergens Original Scent with more punch. A simple mélange of cherry, almonds, and vanilla.
I sprtized this on my decollete and thought "Whoa! how did Mom's christmas cookies end up in my shirt???"
You know, the ones you cut with cookie cutters and then cover with thick frosting and little candies? I like these on a tray, just not on my person. Moving on...
Dry down gets better. Love the warm, resinous rose note that radiates out in concentric circles like slow moving molasses (yep, that sweet kick never goes anywhere)
This phase is along the lines of Caron's Pour une Femme, another warm, silky rose fragrance. But Une Femme pairs the rose with incense instead of amber and resins, whihch works better for me (as does the price, which is much less)
Like DoctorMod I was drawn to smelling my sweet self, and I don't really have any complaints about this other than i'm sure the persistant almond note would wear on me after a while. But try it if you can!
I didn't really have high hopes for Louve, though I now see that my doubts were without foundation. I had a sample and I was prepared to use it on a quiet Sunday afternoon when there was no one to bother besides myself.
Oh my my my my! My first thought was "wine?" But not exactly. No wine ever smelled this rich and sweet. It was more like some fabulous apertif or brandy--Berry? Cherry? Spicy too--too gorgeous, too luxurious to be written off as just another gourmand.
Then, just as I was fully appreciating its intoxicating headiness, it all seemed to vanish. (Well, I thought, maybe I need a bigger sample.) Or did it? Throughout the rest of the day and evening an occasional whiff of sensual sweetness would creep up on me, and even after a lengthy nap (and competing with the BenGay rubbed into an extremely stiff and painful knee), it was clinging to the bedclothes, even lovelier than before!
Louve has great longevity (stronger and vastly more complex now than it was twelve hours ago) and a sillage that is sufficiently strong while not overpowering.
It is not often that I simply want to sneak off and smell myself, gratified by the thought that I truly smell beautiful--but I do when I'm wearing Louve.