Perfume Reviews

Reviews by jtd

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Total Reviews: 503

Y by Yves Saint Laurent

It’s no wonder that people love this scent. It is beautiful from so many angles, and so deftly balanced. And, wonderfully, this balance doesn’t seem the result of consensus. This is not the middle of the road in a bottle. It contains the best of green florals and grassiness, a smart fruit choice, a confident dose of moss and just enough darkness in the basenotes to make it meld with your skin. It is a quality of many chypres to sink into the skin over time. This one becomes a skin scent, but one with sillage, almost instantly.

There is something so poised and charming about Y. It has confidence yet never seems to have to prove itself. There’s just that hint of a knowing smile. God, I wish I were Y. Interestingly, while other green scents suggest flowers, grasses, things you might find out-of-doors, Y is in fact outdoorsy. It has all the city sophistication of similar fragrances (Cristalle, Silences, No. 19) but seems perfectly at home in the woods.

Y was released in 1964, the year I was born and a year I’ve never quite made sense of. I remember what the later 60s were like on the east coast of the US where I lived at the time. Yet photos from 1964 look like the mid-50s to me. Y captures a bit of this for me. A few years earlier and Y might have been Jolie Madame, a few years later, Diorella. Sort of an interesting in-between time.
29th November, 2010 (last edited: 30th September, 2011)

LouLou by Cacharel

LouLou is a jasmine incense floriental. It is loud and strong and I love it. I sometimes use a particular scent when in a certain mood. The relationships between the states and the perfumes can be many, but for LouLou, I wear it when I’m feeling expansive. It matches my state. Shiny amber, heady florals, sparkly aldehydes, a thick great sillage. Yeah, expansive. This happy mood suggests optimism and the desire to engage with the world. LouLou is the perfume equivalent of this state.



29th November, 2010 (last edited: 13th May, 2011)

Knowing by Estée Lauder

Knowing is a rose chypre. A large category, rose chypres can be dark, fruity, sweet, leathery, day-glo, animalic. It’s a fragrance family that has a large range of tones. Take all the forms a chypre might take and multiply that by all the facets of rose. What distinguishes Knowing is its lack of sweet elements. Ungaro’s Diva has its honey and Paloma Picasso’s Paloma has sweet balsams. Knowing has a dry woodiness that perfectly ties the moss to the spiced rose. The key here is the rose. Not a dewy rose, not a flaming rose. This rose is dry verging on bitter and is in perfect accord with the moss. This is the fragrance I'd recommend when people ask for a rose that a man could wear, which is funny because I'd wear anything I like whether targeted to boys or girls. Also funny because the EL fragrances always seem to have that suggestion of solid, practical American femininity (I guess I'm falling for marketing here.) But you know what? Knowing shares as much (categorically) with the rose chypres as it does (in tone) with men's power fragrances of the 80s. It is huge, woody, has preternatural sillage and a half-life of days. My god, this could be Antaeus.
29th November, 2010 (last edited: 09th April, 2011)
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Jasmin et Cigarette by Etat Libre d'Orange

The name says it all. What you smell is jasmine and tobacco, but what takes you there is interesting. The jasmine is clean and a bit green, not indolic, and is reinforced by a light cedar. I take the tobacco note to be tobacco with coumarin, giving a hay-like scent. These 3 elements give the same honeyed gorgeousness of the fresh, moist Dutch blonde cigarette tobacco used to roll your own. It made me want to take up smoking again. I know the ‘cigarette’ in this fragrance is often said to be more of a pipe or that the tobacco is smoke, but I definitely see it as freshly packaged, unsmoked blonde cigarette tobacco. The jasmine and the tobacco hold together quite well and do a fairly linear dance with each other through the drydown. Linear works here as you catch different parts of the elements coming together in different ways all the time: jasmine and cedar, tobacco and tonka, jasmine and hay, but usually just the lovely jasmin et cigarette.
29th November, 2010 (last edited: 04th April, 2011)

Ténéré by Paco Rabanne

I guess it’s virtually a truism that a masculine floral will bomb. Sad. This one had so many things going for it, too. A bright opening that gets darker as time passes; a raspy lavender that gives it a barbershop quality; a honey/urinous note that makes it feel lived in. I really saw this categorically as a floral fougère in the Kouros mold, and to read the notes, you’d think it was a rewrite of Kouros, but there’s definitely a lot of breathing room between this and Kouros. When I read other people’s thoughts on Ténéré I realized nobody else saw it as a fougère. More as a spicy floral. There’s definitely the lavender. And the dryness of spice (turmeric/ginger? cardamom?) combined with a clove-like carnation and the dank honey note all serve not so much to smell like coumarin, but to takes its place in the fougère accord. Shouldn’t this have made it somewhat appealing to the male nose? I can only guess that the fougère market became defined as fresh and aromatic when Cool Water (same year, 1988) cornered the market and became the category's alpha male.

I can see this one seeming too much. If overapplied, the honey notes makes it a little too dense in enclosed spaces. But in moderation, the buoyancy of the florals wins the day.

29th November, 2010 (last edited: 04th April, 2011)

La Perla by La Perla

I discovered La Perla through a great thread on Basenotes about underappreciated perfumes. This is a 1980s perfume that is in the same rose chypre vein as Paloma, Diva, Scherrer and Knowing. To my nose it’s closest to Ungaro’s Diva, which, of those I’ve just mentioned, is the one I like least. A bit too much sweet honey for me. La Perla differs from Diva in just the right places, though, and I really like it. The honey is toned down, the rose is a touch darker, the patchouli is amped up substantially and the spices seem more integrated. As the scent progresses, it gets drier and the honey fades. The rose and the patchouli come together; the patchouli makes the rose drier and the rose warms up the cool, earthy patchouli a bit. Long lasting drydown.
29th November, 2010 (last edited: 09th March, 2011)

Parfum Sacré by Caron

To read others’ thoughts on Parfum Sacre there have apparently been various formulations of the perfume. I have the edp bought in 2010. I’ve never tried an earlier iteration or different concentration and can only report on this one. (Actually this is the only Caron feminine I’ve ever tried.) How funny that this is sold a feminine perfume. If this were in the blocky Caron masculine bottle, it would sit perfectly beside 3me Homme and Yatagan. PS is parched dry and potent like Yatagan, and built on a very dark accord like 3me Homme.

What I get from PS is rose, pepper, incense. Yes there are a few other bits and pieces (lemon, cedar, jasmine), but they are for the most part supporting cast and have no spoken lines. Pepper, rose & incense line up in their dryness. There is no sweetness or creaminess to the rose. The darkness of the rose matches it to the pepper, and the incense shares the pepper’s nose-tickling feel. The only vague hint of sweetness comes from the resin of the incense. I’ve read that others get sweetness, frutiness, vanilla. I get none of these, but don’t miss them. PS’s richness comes from the austere buzz of its 3 elements, not from a fleshed-out fullness. Wears incredibly well in SoCal dry heat.
29th November, 2010 (last edited: 17th February, 2011)

Cuir by Lancôme

I find Cuir to be definitively leather, but so unlike most of the other leathers I know. There is not a trace of scratchiness that I usually associate with leather scents such as Bandit, Aramis or Rien. In fact it’s hard for me to consider Cuir and Rien in the same category. Cuir is a sweet, smoky floral leather (I get a lot of iris.) I can’t quite point to the source of the smoothness. Perhaps it is simply its well-considered moderation. Cuir has the nose feel of an emollient, viscous but not sticky. It makes me prick up my ears waiting for that roughness that the composition tells me is coming. But then, no, it’s more like a low-pitched vibration. The growl is implied, but what I hear is a purr, with all the sly contentment that a lounging cat suggests.

Overall, I find Cuir very sophisticated. I tend to love rough and angular fragrances. Cuir is certainly not one of them. That said, Cuir does make me sniff my own wrist more often than any other perfume I can think of. I suppose I’m always listening for the growl. If Cuir is a bit of a tease, I’ve fallen for him.
29th November, 2010 (last edited: 23rd January, 2011)

Paloma Picasso / Mon Parfum by Paloma Picasso

Jasmine + Chypre = Paloma
Jasmine + Fougère = Troisième Homme

Has anybody ever found the two similar? In each case, they match a similar, greenish, not terribly indolic jasmine to a blunt accord that cries out for some lightness in an otherwise dank mix . In 3me Homme’s case, the green jasmine cleaves to a green lavender. In Paloma, the jasmine makes the green connection between the bergamot and the moss. In both the chypre and the fougère the accord is fundamentally stark and the jasmine fits into the opening spaces. Both the chypre and fougère formulas are fairly easy to recognize once you’ve smelled a few of each. Adding a similar jasmine to each of these historic genres make 3me Homme and Paloma seem like siblings.
29th November, 2010 (last edited: 23rd January, 2011)

Vetiver by Etro

This is a great vetiver. It has a wonderfully burnt yet wet quality that makes this seem not so much like a fragrance to be worn in autumn, but a fragrance that smells of autumn. It smells like dried, fallen tree leaves that have been rained on, plus burnt cedar logs that have been doused by the same rain. Etro’s Vetiver has a very strong opening. The vetiver has the scent of real dried vetiver roots, and gives me that feeling of smelling soil in an small, enclosed space. It makes me take shallow breaths as if the scent is dry like cold winter air and will chap my mucous membranes if I inhale too quickly. It’s very visceral in this regard.

This is a stark vetiver. Not a fresh vetiver by a long shot. No citrus, no marine notes. The woody, rooty vetiver is perfectly matched by a combination of saccharine licorice root and dry, dry woody cedar. These two elements actually mimic an aspect of vetiver and reinforce the principal vetiver note. Vetiver overload! I love it! Over time it becomes more wood than root, and the cedar dominates the drydown.
29th November, 2010 (last edited: 31st December, 2010)

Par Amour by Clarins

Transparent rose, blackcurrant and cedar would make this sound like the recipe for a Lutens “bois de [insert note]” fragrance. But this doesn’t seem like any of the bois fragrances except for a shared sheer-but-sweet quality. This is more sugar-sweet than fruity-sweet, which would usually scare me off, but something in the undercurrent of this fragrance keeps it from getting too ditzy. I think it’s the pepper-like benzoin. As the scent evolves the sweetness and the blackcurrant fade and the cedar/rose combination wins out. The pepper lasts as well, enhancing both the rose and the cedar, and Par Amour ends up seeming like Barbie’s version of Parfum Sacré.
29th November, 2010 (last edited: 31st December, 2010)

Équipage by Hermès

There is a way to get a spareness in overall feel that come from a well considered complexity. This is Equipage’s great success. The accords found in Equipage I’m sure have many building blocks, but the fragrance has one precise inflection. There is a cold sharpness that is not harsh, but precise. Equipage has a tone that reminds me of how sound travels through cold, dry air in winter. There is a snap and a crispness that doesn’t say, “fresh," but “frosty.”

Bergamot can have a silver/grey feel to it, but combined with a clove-like, peppery carnation and pine, it feels positively nippy. Even the herbal elements work in the same direction. What seems like clary sage and tarragon add a minty or camphorous bit that lines up squarely with both the pine and the carnation. As things progress, woody aspects enter. But here too, it’s not creamy or warm, although it is very smooth. Vetiver and moss keep things cool by making it feel just a little damp. There seems to be something like rosewood, which might warm the cheeks a bit, but it can’t really thaw the overall sensation.

Interestingly, Equipage works well in both worm and cool climates. When it’s cool out, Equipage feels snappy and crisp. In the heat it has a cooling “menthol” effect. Some see this as a chypre, some a fougère and others as an aromatic wood. I can see chypre, though I don’t really get the fougère vibe, and lean toward floral spicy wood. But maybe this neither/nor is Equipage’s trick. It takes a little of everything and serves it up cold.
29th November, 2010 (last edited: 31st December, 2010)

Azurée by Estée Lauder

Chypres in general and leather chypres more specifically seem to be enormously popular perfume genres among perfume fans. I think their complexities and balances of starkness and richness make them make them ripe for the continuing consideration (read: obsession) of perfume fans (I include myself here). Azurée is a perfect fit for this group. I’ve smelled the current Cabochard, and while it doesn’t appeal to me, I can see the strong family resemblance to Azurée. And I really came to Azurée via Aramis, a sororal (fraternal, you choose) twin to Azurée. (Aramis, unlike the current Cabochard is a leather chypre that I love.) The fact that Estée Lauder continues some of these older fragrances apparently in their original, largely unedited form also means that this is our link back to the good old, bad old swaggering fragrances of the mid 20th century. (Thank you, EL.)

Azurée really matches the description of those iconic fragrances---filling a room, conjuring a presence, having dimension and character. It has all the bitterness of a hard, green chypre, all the dryness of the stark leathers, all the complexity of an era of perfume that had little legal restriction on use of ingredients. Which makes it ridiculously funny to see Azurée described in EL press as “light” and a “woody citrus” as if we were talking about the latest meager masculine with a celebrity name slapped on it. Personally, I would want to own up to this fragrance. It is brilliant, gorgeous and needs no apology or subterfuge. Even the mythology of its origin: Mediterranean colors (well, yes, I guess---Mediterranean covers a lot), citrus (yes, but it’s a blasting dose of bergamot), and sunny (huh?) seem to want to hide this beauty. It is stark to the point of harsh, scorchingly dry, and inedible in the way strong leathers are. It is perfect.

It is remarkably similar to Aramis by Aramis (Bernard Chant, same era, same company---I’ll try to juxtapose them when I write about Aramis.) The two fit spectacularly well in the EL feminine-masculine tradition of Aliage-Devin, Cinnabar-JHL, Aromatic Elixir-Aramis 900.

Two other small points. I don’t really care much about perfume packaging and bottles, but this is my favorite bottle in production. Also, I’m happy to point out that this perfume, in its potent concentration (“pure fragrance spray”) is shockingly inexpensive, and possibly the best-spent money in perfumery.
29th November, 2010 (last edited: 20th December, 2010)
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White Linen by Estée Lauder

I enjoy White Linen for the fact that it is cheapness done well. Conceptually so downmarket (soap) yet executed so brashly (1 part aldehyde, 1 part laundry detergent musk, one part whatever your notion of a bar of “floral” soap is.) This is the olfactory equivalent of holding a large tuning fork to your skull, but for hours. I can imagine for many women this might just seem simple, oldish in style and unsubtle, but on a man, it’s a great alternative (CLEAN) to so many current men’s fragrances (FRESH.) The camp of wearing a squeaky clean girly fragrance is added enticement.

But I have one particular use for White Linen. I’m an RN and work in a hospital. Search through the basenotes forums and you’ll find plenty of discussions about inflicting fragrance on those around you, the hospital being the ultimate battleground for this argument. I have a few scents that I wear to work, each with a different strategy as to why it works. (More on this in later posts.) White Linen is easily my favorite, since it’s akin to being in drag in scrubs. On a man I think this simply reads as so-clean-you-still-have-soap-on-you clean. The only comments I’ve gotten from my patient are, literally, “You smell so clean!” I imagine if were a woman wearing this she might be accused of wearing too much or too strong a fragrance. It’s fun screwing with gender assumptions in general. With perfume, it’s a delight.


29th November, 2010 (last edited: 08th December, 2010)

Private Collection by Estée Lauder

This fragrance is beautifully balanced. Green florals, grass, woods, powder, moss. It’s funny the way we rewrite gender over time. I’m sure this was prissily feminine at the time it was released, but if a niche house released this today as a masculine and used all the synonyms for fresh (too down-market to use the word itself) to describe it, this would sell like mad. I can hear it. “A new type of masculine scent. Tonic and Brisk, with just enough Sass and Daring to be powdery.”

I shouldn’t make fun. This really is a brilliant masculine. Feminine, too, for that matter. I love green chypres and usually lean toward the leather variety. This one has not a trace of leather, and in fact is pretty light on moss to my nose. What appeals to me is the balance of its ingredients that overall gives an impression of flowers, leaves, and mostly, grass. This is what the lawns in utopia smell like. Just plan ahead; this stuff is powerfully strong and lasts days.
29th November, 2010 (last edited: 05th December, 2010)

Jubilation 25 by Amouage

Jubilation 25 demonstrates the richness and time evolution I associate with classical, French perfumery, but its twist is that it screws with traditional categories. To call it a spicy, floral, oriental, herbal, fruity chypre does capture a lot of the ground this fragrance covers, but it doesn’t really narrow things down. Part of this is the way it plays out over time. Its top notes are a rosy frankincense & myrrh---and is that cardamom? Cumin? But even before that, its tippy-top notes include a licoricy tarragon, and have a tingly feel similar to aldehyedes. But as soon as I got the tip-top, they faded. Its expansive opening reminded me of Tauer’s Incense Rosé, but the top really just ushers in a balsamic, woody set of notes that have a choral hum to them and give J 25 warmth. The fruit starts to kick in here, but it matches the woodiness. The fruit is broad and rich, but not sweet. It’s sort of an interesting fruit, too. You know the way classic white florals suggest abstract floral qualities without seeming like any particular flower you’ve ever smelled? Similarly, this is an idealized fruit. It’s a plumy, peachy scent. I think its success here is that it has both the scent of the skin of a fruit before you’ve bitten into it and the ripe flesh. Not over-ripe. I know I’m dwelling on the fruit here, but it’s the key. This is ripe in that it has a strong ‘flavor’ to it, but doesn’t have that feeling of fruit that’s started to turn (Diorella, Femme.) Fruit is the component that ties this scent’s upper register with its drydown.

Disclosure: I love fruity chypres. Y, Diorella, Mitsouko, Cristalle, Chanel pour Homme, Chinatown. I find fruity chypres exceedingly expressive and balanced. They can emphasize green, mossy, sweet, bitter, herbal and still remain true to that spectacular feel of the chypre chord.

Fruity chypre is where Jubilation 25 winds up. When the dry fruit enters, the moss comes on slowly and overtakes the woodiness and instead of harmonizing with the fruit, plays a counterpoint to it. Everything I love about the drydown of fruity chypres, Chinatown in particular, is here, but Jubilation 25 keeps its own identity. If there’s amber in the drydown, I’m mistaking it for a whisper of the frankincense. Dry and confidently stark. This concise drydown makes me feel like the circus-like opening belonged to another fragrance entirely, but one that I’d love to try again.
29th November, 2010 (last edited: 05th December, 2010)

JHL by Aramis

I don’t have a lot to add to what others have said about JHL, and certainly nothing particularly clever, but I would like to add my applause. What a great fragrance for men, and thank you, Aramis for re-releasing it. I would love to smell this on a young person who might discover complexity, plush and density from this fragrance from another era and sensibility. I don’t mean to be cynical about the state of most men’s designer fragrances these past few years, but JHL stands resolutely apart from them. It’s funny, actually. My real complaint about most men’s designer scents is that there are so many, yet they vary from each other in such small ways that they smell the same even to people who are looking for distinctions. And yet look at JHL. It’s Cinnabar and Youth Dew with some carnation! Given this slapdash approach but brilliant result, I suppose I can hardly level the ‘sameness’ complaint against current men’s designer scents.

JHL is a beautiful example of Estée Lauder’s transplantation of French sensibility to American perfumery. It’s a rich combination of many ingredients (hesperides, culinary spices, balsams, florals, amber), demonstrates beautiful evolution over time, and exemplifies coherence from start to finish. JHL is a tribute from Lauder to classical perfumery, but the way she overlaps genres (spicy, amber, floral) gives us something that likely would not have come from France. Kudos for not sparing the voluptuousness in a men’s scent! We like a little lavishness too!

29th November, 2010 (last edited: 05th December, 2010)

Kiehl's Original Musk by Kiehl's

I think this musk is bought mostly by Kiehl’s shoppers and not so much the perfume hobbyists. Too bad, because this stuff is wonderful. I have 3 musk-based fragrances: Serge Lutens’ Muscs Koublai Khan, Annick Goutal’s Musc Nomade, and Kiehl’s Original Musk Blend No 1 (edt.) I love them all. The Kiehl’s is a nice balance of skin-funk, florals and that sweetness of musk that seems fruity but isn’t. And while MKK is clearly the rawest of the bunch, Kiehl’s is the most skin-like in that it actually smells like your lover’s scalp.

A caveat. I don’t get much ‘dirty’ from most musk fragrances. I could be anosmic to that aspect of musk, or more likely I could just have a different chain of associations than some others do. Many musks have a bodily smell, but it’s largely clean. Not antiseptic. A clean body has a smell. Actually it has a bunch. But musk carries a skin sweetness that has none of the dirty, salty or acidic that I associate with old sweat or uncleanliness. Kiehl’s has more of this body aspect than either of the others to me. And it speaks to that simple intimacy of being physically close to somebody. This is not the scent for people who wear perfume as a masking fragrance.
29th November, 2010 (last edited: 04th December, 2010)

Tocade by Rochas

Rose and vanilla together. A classic combo. So how on earth does it come to smell like sweet newspaper and acetone? And who would have thought that would be comfort food for the nose? I adore this.
29th November, 2010

Sikkim by Lancôme

Sikkim reminds me of the expression, “to fly off the handle.” Sikkim’s escalation is so quick that it doesn’t even seem like progression, just the flip from something calm to something disturbed. The first sniff sends you reeling. Sikkim is fast, rough and, I don’t know---I guess abundant. It’s just everything at once. It’s a heavy, raspy green chypre, but, although light on amber sweetness, it’s also a big spicy oriental with an almost medicinal vibe. It’s a great, fun ride, and in the end it’s an animalic green chypre with a dusting of spiced sweetness. Built from so many drydown materials, this scent has remarkable endurance, but (blessedly) that quality lovely of many stark chypres---it becomes a skin/body scent in the drydown.
29th November, 2010

Coriolan by Guerlain

I remember this one from a few years ago as a sort of mild fougère with a juniper note. I prefer a hard, rougher fougère. The common ground of lavender and coumarin is small yet significant, but their difference is what makes a fougère hold together. The fougère accord works well with broad brush strokes.

I stupidly gave away my bottle of Coriolan a few years ago, and with the retrospect of sense memory have dwelled on it ever since. I bought it again yesterday and had such a great surprise. It’s not a weak fougère, it’s a chypre. And a nicely blended, well proportioned one at that. What on earth had I been thinking? Especially in an age of oakmoss nostalgia, what a beautiful thing to fall in my lap. What I disliked when I viewed it as a fougère (timid, finicky) is exactly what makes it so pleasant as a chypre. It is harmonious from start to finish; there are no elbows jutting out. There is the bitterness of the bergamot and moss, but it is balanced by a sweet quality from the juniper. There is a cool herbal quality, but it doesn’t read as culinary. I don’t find it particularly forceful and the sillage is minimal to moderate. I think the blended quality could be read as noncommital, but I find its ease very comfortable.
29th November, 2010

Estée by Estée Lauder

Very few fragrances have such a qualitative difference between a light dose and a drenching. If applied heavily, Estee has the definitive “bug spray accord” that gets discussed in ‘old lady’ perfumes. I don’t deny that, and in fact I enjoy it. For the benefit of those I love, though , I wouldn’t wear Estée at this dosage unless I were home alone, with no plans to see anybody before my next shower. But with a very light hand, and probably at least ½ hour after administration for a cooling down, this is a beautiful dry, aldehydic, woody floral. At this volume, Estée has moderate sillage, excellent endurance and becomes pleasantly soapy. I know some see this as a floral chypre, and they likely have more discriminating noses than I, but I don’t get the moss. I do wonder, though, if it’s there behind the long-lasting aldehyde in Estée and I just can’t see it.

With this quality and concentration (Pure Fragrance Spray, huh? Never understood the EL terminology.) Estée, along with Alliage , Private Collection and Azurée, represent the best-spent money in perfumery. Remarkable that this stuff is so inexpensive.
18th November, 2010 (last edited: 05th December, 2010)

Odalisque by Nicolaï

Odalisque was the first of Patricia de Nicolai’s perfumes I tried, and I’ve been a fan from the first sniff. There is something about the way Odalisque is blended that it has a much smoother arc than so many other green chypres. The oakmoss isn’t bitter, and the top notes aren’t sharp. I suspect it’s the use of lily of the valley and what smells like gardenia. I can’t think offhand of other chypres with a dominant muguet note, and I think the dewy roundness of the note eases things. Also, if it’s gardenia that I’m catching, it’s got a little of that earthy almost truffly feel and counterweighs the floral coloratura.

Not to be dogmatic here, but this doesn’t really seem totally like a chypre to me. I definitely find it to be a mossy floral, but, even though the PdN websites lists the notes of bergamot and mandarin up top, I don’t get the bergamot sharpness. The green in Odalisque is wet and grassy and I attribute it to the lily of the valley. The fruit is almost peachy or apricot. I think the fruits and florals are beautifully proportioned and allow the moss to be the gentle counterbalance without seeming too dark or bitter.

Whatever the genre, Odalisque has an hypnotic, almost narcotic quality. This is the scent equivalent of eating lotus flowers. Odalisque makes me want to lay in and enjoy the lazy pleasures of life.

Edit: I've just tried the most recent iteration of this at ScentBar. I now know the despondency of the reformulation blues. It smells as if the chypre portion of the fragrance has simply been removed without any attempt to compensate and what's left is a watered down floral. PdN can certainly do a pretty floral, but the notion that by comparison we suffer is really brought home to me. I'll treasure the bottle I have.
16th November, 2010 (last edited: 23rd January, 2011)