Fragrance Reviews by Zhara8

Fantastic simplicity underlies this heady, rich fragrance. Honey. Rose. And what a rose. This is the same rose of Rosa di Damasco, their original singleflora that is rose, rose, and just for interest, some rose thrown in on top.
While I'll continue to have Rosa di Damasco in my arsenal for as long as I can forage up the currency to haul it home (iPF's prices have skyrocketed; jumping 45% in the last 5 years.) , Miele Rosa has a certain extra "oomph". That ommph is not just "honey".

As a mead brewer, I've come to know dozens of different honeys - the color, viscosity and fragrance are affected not only by the specific variety of flowers over which our yellow-striped friends graze and gather pollen, but also the season of the year during which the honey is collected, age of hive, and so on. The honey note in Miele Rosa is good strong summer honey - dark, heavy and unflitered. The bees knees are here, along with chunks of honeycomb, wads of wax (where a large percentage of the fragrance is stored anyway), and even a bit of the aged wood frame of the hive.

Now, that describes each element. It doesn't describe the final effect of these combined essences. And I fear that I can not do so either, as long as Basenotes remains at least a PG-13 community. However, why let that stop me from trying?

A medieval castle, covered in a hundred year's worth of rose vines, late May, full bloom. The prince and princess have just been wed the day before, and upon entering their chamber the next morning, the aroma of roses - both the ones growing on the vines outside the open window, and thousands of petals that had completely carpeted the floor and covered the bed, make one of three overpowering olfactory factors. The second comes from hundreds of freshly made and mostly un-used rolled honeycomb candles, the raw wax sticky with residue of honey. The third aroma - one that is known to happy newlyweds everywhere, is a scent best left only alluded to and not completely described.

Sadly, like a blissful wedding night, Miele Rosa is not here forever - limited edition only.

A completely un-objectionable vanilla. Very very .... ok. Astonishingly.... unremarkable, except that in a sea of horrendous vanillas for every pocketbook (from L'Artisan's ugly and harsh Vanilia to the creepy synthetic of discount-store's Coty Vanilla Fields), at least there's nothing really wrong here (except the price).

It's vanilla. It lasts a while. It will not offend anyone. For the money, Kheil's could cover you better, should you be looking for a straightforward single-note vanilla scent.

or McCormicks.

It will be difficult to top jenson's delightful and spot-on description - tea leaves, lime rind, hot sun, leather... crushed and producing the finest droplets of elixir.

I am compelled though, to expand on one particular note: There is a sugar in the drydown - one that is quite stately, grown up and magnificent. It's a sugar that would make a little kid frown. This is no pixie stix, but a raw, wild sugar crystalized on rough frame screens set out in that same hot sun that dried jenson's aforementioned saddle. "hay sugar"? Turbinado? call it what you will, this is big kid stuff.

My husband and I had to get one bottle each - too great to share, sadly quite hard to find. The remarkable part here - he has normally worn only novelty gourmands till now; Demeter's Hot Fudge Brownie and Dulce de Leche, Luna's Wookie's Cookie and the like. What does this have to do with Chergui? Only that it's sugar can not go unmentioned, that sweet grounding note can not be under-emphasized. This scent, for all the leather, is just so very edible. A sparkling but deep-colored summer quencher that you simply could gulp down by the pitcher, yet you also want to savor each sip. A fragrance fit for hot weather, while never becoming frivolous. A heavy, rough sugar that says "adults only."

An absolute dream of a scent. One of the very best.

Rich sweet floral, no matter the claims of gourmand accords, the opening is all classic Patou.

However, in the process of drydown, towards the middle and finish - I swear it's the aroma of an ice cream parlor. Not just the fragrance of ice cream alone .... it's the fragrance of the whole entire parlor: fruit, marshmallow whip, sparkling clean floors, over-working a/c, everything is there.

Vanilla is here, oh yes, but so definitely an ice cream vanilla - it's chilly! how can Patou convey temperature? I can only guess.
And the fruit....these are not the ripe, heavy bananas flecked with brown from the top of your kitchen counter, nor are these the classy caramelized delicacies found in a Bananas Foster. Instead these are quite indeed the fresh, perhaps even slightly green, chilled, subdued, bananas of an ice cream split. Other fruits mix in, with the florals still shouting quite loudly, making the banana even less prominent. But they are there.

Between the heavy floral notes, the icy cold fruit, chilly vanilla, and the hints of mildest white musk anchoring things, a more appropriate name for this fragrance would be "First Date at the Ben & Jerry's". Which is actually a compliment. A great summer scent, very fun.

A favorite 20 years ago when I was much much younger. At the time, Obsession, Misha and Maxim's were my fall and winter scents - Sung and YSL Paris ruled over summer and Spring. As others on here have written, it now seems to fail for us more mature types.

I remember it having such a cooling effect on me, and the muget was almost all I noticed. I specifically thought of it as a "cold, pale purple" scent, despite it's crisp black and white packaging and nearly clear juice. Perhaps that was the orris?

"Ah yes, white flowers." my mother said approvingly. So, perhaps her words influenced my olfactory perceptions. In any case, I took a spritz again recently, after at least a decade without it, and found Sung now to be so artificial and loud, with only a vague ghost of the cooling, feminine joy that I remembered it providing.

Now, can someone tell me if I'm simply off my rocker, or does Sung have some noticeable similarity to MPG's Jardin Blanc? (with J.B. being the far more complex and more natural-smelling of the two)

So many times when I've opened my spice chest to cook, lifting the lid and getting a heady rush of the accumulated powders, seeds and dried herbs inside, I've said to myself "if only I could capture *this* exact scent."

Oriental Lumpur has done that exactly. Don't believe me? Come to my house, we'll go to the kitchen and you can have a whiff.

Curry is of course not one spice but a generic tag for all kinds of spice mixes from the Subcontinent - and Oriental Lumpur is it's own unique curry (or balti, actually. Yes, I'd say it's a nice, zesty balti).

Now here's the truly artful part: not one of those spices overpowers any of the others. Perfect balance. I've read repeated reviews of Kingdom that talk of nothing but the cumin, or complaints that Piment Brulant is nothing but a bell pepper. Definitely not the case here, the blend is the thing. Ginger, turmeric, coriander, cardamom, galangal, a hint of saffron and several others. In the middle there is the tiniest hint of clean soapy sweetness - just enough to bring back the perfect childhood memories of cooking lessons from my father - clean dish towels, fresh washed hands, and lots and lots of spices.

This is such a keeper - and I fear terribly that it will be discontinued for lack of sufficient market. Until then, I horde.