Margot Elena does it again. A gardenia-heavy (but not too heavy) white-floral with complementary amounts of amber and honey. A lush garden full of lilies, gardenias, and orchids that somehow became entrapped in warm amber.
While gardenia is beautiful, I always find it to be a bit too much to my nose and could not wear this fragrance every day. However, my mother loves gardenia (Estée Lauder Private Collection Tuberose Gardenia is her favorite) and upon smelling this I bought for her without question. She thinks this fragrance is "more modern" but "in a good way".
Importantly though, Tokyo Milk fragrances tend to have fleeting silliage (and may disappoint if you intend to have everyone smell you) yet they cling to the skin with subtlety throughout the day. For her this has worked wonderfully, as she works in the medical field where strong fragrances are often discouraged.
A brief, effervescently citrus opening immediately turns to a creamy lather of gardenia and tuberose, only to swiftly change course into a mossy-woody dry down. But, wait, there, oh, all three melt effectively, perhaps even with the lovely interlacing complexities of a chypre.
To my nose, French Kiss No. 15 falls just short of actually hitting the floral-chypre goal, but man, it's just right there. It hits the net, or maybe even the rim. Mandirin, Tuberose, and Vetiver are all elements I adore in any fragrance; the gardenia, while perhaps just a tad too bold in this scent for my taste, is quite complementary and works (for better or worse) with the tuberose to form a non-soapy, fresh, sensual base. At least it does on my skin.
It reminds me, a little bit, of Romance by Ralph Lauren - but much milder and without the powdery musk in the dry down. Like the other Tokyo Milk fragrances I've tried, the silliage is bold at first and then trails off within an hour, but the fragrance delicately embraces the skin for the rest of the day.
I would wear this anytime I'm in the mood for a floral-chypre, but not really going anywhere where that much sophistication is necessary. I bought if for my little sister as an education tool - mainly to steer her away from those Bath & Body Works and Victoria's Secret fragrances. She recognized the difference immediately. She also really likes it.
A linear bombardment of wild roses that have been basking in a warm summer glow, spriteful lemon, sweet key lime, and an aromatic woody scent that lingers somewhere between juniper and cedar. I wish I could bathe in this. It is very rejuvenating.
Every time I wear this I receive compliments; anytime I apply the hand lotion people stop to ask me what I am wearing. Unfortunately, the silliage fades away, but this fragrance - especially when layered with the hand lotion - has a precious way of clinging to ones skin and clothes for several hours. I think it is a great scent to wear as a pick-me-up, or for a brief excursion, like a morning trip to the farmers' market. Also, I believe it to be a great, balanced fragrance to use when meeting someone - especially for the first time. It would undoubtedly make a fantastic gift for a woman of any age.
While I would not wear all of Margot Elena's fragrances, she certainly has talent. I implore anyone to give any of her fragrances a try.
I have tried Pure Turquoise several times, wanting to like it but am always inevitably disappointed. To my nose the amber and obtrusively-sweet vanilla are not at all subtle; these accords overpower the heavenly concoction of cactus, lily of the valley, orange blossom and patchouli. I find this to be really unfortunate because I think this fragrance would have had fantastic potential otherwise.
While Pure Turquoise aims to convey the unique beauty of the gem it's named for, it invokes the image of the medieval spice route between Europe and Asia in which all the spices were left to the elements for far too long and became stale... and somehow those stale spices ended up in a birch barrel of vanilla bourbon. It makes me wonder if other reviewers have ever actually been to the desert southwest. There's also a Christmas-y sort of note imparted, at least on my skin. That works wonders for some people, but not me.
It is not linear - at least to my nose - and does have good silliage and great longevity. But instead of being a floral-chypre-nouveau alluding to the beauty and enchantments of the Turquoise Trail of New Mexico it simply resonates as being cooped up in a dimly lit cabin with a simmering pot of spiced-vanilla potpourri. If someone is looking for a sophisticated vanilla-amber this might just be the scent.
This scent is definitively girlie - as I noticed Blood-Orange stated in her review. But it is not girlie in cloying way, rather it imparts a sweetly energetic tone to the wearer. While I typically find gourmands to be obtrusive, this fragrance melts bright and fresh florals- maybe violet, geranium, and clematis - to juicy fruits that were just picked off the vine. It reminds me of a strawberry-honeydew melon mojito, sans tequila sub sparkling prosecco.
I do not like this fragrance enough to wear it often, but could totally see myself donning it if I was a high school student. I would buy this for my little sister as opposed to those sickenly-sweet Victoria's Secret fragrances that seem to be so popular with today's youngest women.
Good silliage and great longevity. I would wear this to the pool or beach, or perhaps on a gloomy day if I needed a little pep. Alternatively, I think the body lotion version of this frag layers quite well underneath a cedar, or woody-oriental.
I bought this blind after reading several basenoter's recommendations, and I have to say that I was a little disappointed. It is a gardenia with elements of a woodsy oriental-almost-gourmand to my nose, with a heavy dose of humidity thrown in. Reminiscent of a garden in the southeast U.S. region that has just been graced by a rain shower; a heavy concoction of blooming magnolia trees, with their grand leaves, and something similar to figs (perhaps the ginger and shiso?) linger in the heavily moist air.
Gardenia lovers may rejoice. I've since passed it along to my mother and she really enjoys it. Truthfully speaking though, it is very linear, has terrible silage, and only lasts for about an hour on my skin. I have read that several other newer Goutals have longevity issues as well. I can see how someone else might place this with Carnal Flower; however, I certainly would not recommend it as a substitute. It could perhaps be Carnal Flower's fourth cousin, removed, by marriage, and from a different country.
The original version of this aquatic woody floral is intimate and stellar. To my nose it opens with a deliciously rain-kissed flowers that immediately warm into the damp yogurt-y heaven of a well-tailored tuberose. The drydown is an ever-so-delicate powdery and mossy-woodsy musk of ambrette seed and oakmoss.
If petrichor scents replicate the sweet earthy smell of damp soil after the rain, this perfume holds a sophisticated mingling of geosmins that petrichor lovers may adore. It invokes the image of sitting in an old musky library, drinking a gueuze lambic beer with the windows open - unable to read because I am so mesmerized by the smell of dry dirty soil aloft a warm dampness after a humid thunderstorm.
Great silliage and longevity. One to two sprays is all that is necessary. I always received compliments when I wore this. More importantly, I always felt uniquely beautiful when I wore it. Yet, some of my friends said it smelled absolutely terrible on their skin. The formula was modified in the late 2000s, most likely due to restrictions on oak moss, and wasn't nearly as wonderful as the original. It has since been discontinued.