Perfume Reviews

Reviews of Bal à Versailles by Jean Desprez

Total Reviews: 87
Wow, simply amazing, one of the absolute best, most magnificent creations ever made. If you want something different, something naughty, something men will remember as the scent of the girl they were crazy for, choose BAV. It is not for the tame at heart, it is for those that will embrace their sexuality, who are daring to put on red heels with a red dress and walk out to the streets wearing bad hair. Call girl, perhaps but to me Madamme Pompadour all the way. We all have the bad girl in us but do we dare to show it off? Pure perfection to me, men are very attracted to this scent even though it is not loud but very intimate and thus best for intimate occasions, it must be those pheromones in there and what a stunning civet, bringing out our animalic side. Very long lasting and my absolute fave at the moment. BTW, I own the vintage EDT but also really love the modern EDT. They are similar yet different, as expected due to the natural notes the vintage is smoother and velvety, less sillage and definitely less lasting power but some of that is also due to the dissipation of some top notes perhaps. The modern version is spicier, grand sillage and great lasting power, some effervescent sharper notes on top. Love both and could not choose, great layered too, I would do vintage and then modern over. Vintage alone can even be worn to the office. Simply what I would call passion in a bottle.
13th March, 2012 (last edited: 13th April, 2012)
I'm tried the new one, and I've tried the original 1960s. I ended up hunting down the original. For me, the new version smells a lot like L'Air de Rien by Miller Harris, the skankiest of skin perfumes make for Jane Birkin. I onw that and I love it and I didn't feel the need to own another scent that smelled the same after dry down.
So the 60s one. I adore this. My bottle came all the way from the US (via Etsy, a great place for vintage scents), and had leaked only slightly into the plastic wrapper. I keep that on my desk now and it still sinks gloriously after two months.
For me it's a perfume that doesn't smell like perfume, way ahead of its time. Yes, it's a "skin scent" but it doesn't smell like the new version, not after a couple of minutes.
So what is it like? A bunch of flowers held in the hand of a gardener who's been out in the sun digging flower beds all day.
07th March, 2012
Ah! Father! This intrigue of nonsense! In myself I believed to see an omnipotent, all-knowing Alpha-Male, impervious and invincible to any and all confusions of the heart; troubles of unrequited love, emotive manipulations: Always, I walked a straight line into the lives of any and all I desired, to then leave them breathless, enflamed, slaves to my every whim. Coolly, with deft calculations, shamelessly I would captivate them with my looks, ensnare them with wit, to then hold them hostage until the moment would come, always inevitable, when the intrigue would wane, their allure grew tiresome, or simply, without warning, I would unexpectedly crave isolation: So it happened, Father, that, with age, I did come to approach and finally to guiltlessly accept my peripatetic love life; self centered, preoccupied with my own pleasures, feigning interest, yet principally engaged only in the glorification of my own ego to the detriment of many: To find me, follow the trail of shattered, weeping hearts, for I have broken so very many. The long, winding trail that crosses the globe, over and over: The trail of corpses. At the end of it, my own now lays gasping for air: Flummoxed, disturbed, distraught and in shock: Halfway through my life it would appear that I have been served a bit of my own Machiavellian, wanton ways, and just this tiny wee dose has left me senseless in despair, finally enlightened as to the bleak gravity of my transgressions. So here I am. I have come to confess this most hideous of sins: A lifetime of demonic lusts that culminated and erupted in a tryst so shamelessly brazen, so vile, that I feel as though by it I have been branded in fire. Somehow, now that I have tasted the foul savour of my own, pitiless and self-serving lust, I can no longer live with myself, for I feel as though I have been transformed into a kind of devil: Possessed and invaded by a daemon. I met her. I met her in flesh and in the blood. In retrospect, I feel as though I have met my own self in the guise of a woman. Her reputation, quite legendary in certain circles, had preceded our meeting. I knew well and proper that with her, I would be playing with fire, but nothing, nothing at all, would stop me: From the moment of introduction, to my integral surprise, in me she would show no interest whatsoever: She was aloof. Unimpressed. When questioned, flippantly she claimed never to have heard of me, as if I were some nameless back room bookkeeper in a shoe shop, or a common civil servant. That assertion I am near convinced was a ruse, though presently I am sure of nothing, save for the searing pain in my heart, and an unusual taste of isolation, formerly sweet, reassuring, restful, full of relief; now bitter. The nonsense of it! My own cherished, beautiful solitude now turned to loneliness, common as gutter sludge. I have come to confess a lifetime of sins of the flesh, of gluttony and of shameless, guileless indulgences, never repented, never regretted.
It was at a Fancy Dress Ball when, finally, we met, when finally, as it appeared, I came face to face with my own withered, dying soul. All around was confusion and movement. The finest ladies in sparkling attire. Hoards of gentlemen fitted out in black masques. From afar, I saw her dancing, whirling about on the marble, seemingly passed about like a party favour: Taking gloved hands into hers, twirling and pirouetting, then gliding off to the arm of her next partner. Every time our eyes would meet she would turn her gaze: No masque had she, only a fan of ostrich plumes, and a black spray of aigrettes tucked cunningly into her coiffure, which she wore pin-tucked and curled high atop her head. Waltzing and whirling my way through the chaotic merriment, I purposely and repeatedly veered to approach her, in hopes that she would accept my outstretched hand, yet each time I would draw near, she would only spin round, to whip me across the face with the feathers of her headdress, black as tar, that contrasted sharply with her voluminous, multi-layered gown of sunflower yellow taffetas, chantilly laces and diaphanous organza. Each time I drew near I could smell an intoxicating perfume of warmth: Fields of dryed out, rotting roses, baking and sweltering in the heat, laced with a kind of heady incense that left me in a muddle heretofore unknown. Finally, with my white-gloved hand, I reached to grasp her, forcefully from behind, at which point, with the deft snap-twirl of a ballerina, her face was flush against mine, and our eyes locked. Keeping my gaze, with nonchalance she handed me her fan, with long spidery fingers captive in tulle mittens she reached up to remove my masque, without a word, without an apology, to then tie it around her own face, now batting her eyes through it. Lifting up her fan to offer it back I could feel a kind of rush emanate from it: The sweetest, most erotic scent of sweat that took up residence in my nostrils. Like a creeping, invading virus, I could feel it enter my blood, which pumped furiously as we danced off key, strangely isolated in our own separate universe. This dance, which saw me bewitched and under spell, led us, both equally drunken and stupid, to a long corridor that stretched so far into the distance that it seemed as if it went on into eternity, all paneled and gilded, with sparkling crystal chandeliers and sconces flanking yawning doors, all closed. First peering down into the depth of it, she looked up at me, her aigrette feathers quivering as she removed my black masque from her face, and tossed it on the floor as she took my hand, and, in a rustle of taffetas, led me away, so far that the music faded to silence, and we were alone: As it now appeared, there was no end to this hall: Just an eternal suite of scintillating crystal, glistening wood, and doors….still more doors. She threw herself seductively against one of these, and, her face now bare, looked up at me. The fire, it was not only in her eyes, but seemed to erupt from beneath her skirts, through her bustier, with licking flames that crept up between her bosom. With her right hand, she reached high up to take a firm, pinching hold of my ear. With her left, she opened the door, and both of us fell, tumbling into an opulent chamber of damask silk draperies, lyre shaped lounges and cabriole legged chairs, all gold and vibrant, canary yellow. Intoxicated on the vapours that enshrouded her, now so heavy as to fairly blind me with their dank, rosy musk, I began laughing, until I was summarily shut up by her mouth, and her tongue, which seemed to move into my head the way her scent flushed its way into my blood, turning it to liquid amber: I felt as if the whites of my eyes had grown yellow, and, were a pair of horns to burst forth through my skull, I would not have puzzled. Tearing at each other like wild beasts we rolled about the floor, until her massive sunflower ball gown became a kind of mattress, my black cloak a cover: I felt as if she had wiggled her way into my body, and from the inside was tickling it and tantalizing it in the most delicious ways. Our silent waltz on the floor became increasingly intense. Her mouth, her hands, her hair, every part of her body seemed to seer its way into mine. She was in control. Every time I tried to speak, or groan, my mouth would be filled with some part of her. Finally I resigned to close my eyes and let her take charge as she mounted me and rode my body like a horse: Slapping and whipping it, scratching and spitting, all the while filling me with her amber liquids that smelled and tasted like the heat and fires of seething passions of bestiality. Of these I drank willingly, never knowing from whence they came, or what they were, knowing only that I craved them, hungered for them: Each time I would reach to return her caress I would be whipped, spanked or pinned down. Each time I opened my mouth it would be fed with her body, and all the while I could hear her gasping, moaning, in turn cackling and laughing. When finally I tried to open my eyes they would be blinded: She spat in them. Licked them. Held her fingers spread open in my mouth, to fill it again with a rush of nectar, all sweet, yet dry and suffocating, burning my throat. Finally, as I began to feel the convulsions of my own innards threaten to erupt, I felt her fingers leave my mouth and encircle their way around my throat. It seemed as though she were strangling me: Tighter and tighter until I gasped for air as my body released its passion, and I fell into a swoon that first seemed made of blinding yellow light then dimmed to a murky black haze, and, ultimately, to oblivion. Shivering and naked I next found myself sprawled out beneath my silk-lined cloak with the light of dawn creeping through the soaring windows, all draped and swathed with bouillon fringe and gossamer lace…and still…this scent in my nostrils…this taste in my mouth: All over my body an oily sweat of wilting roses and amber, yet in the room, I was alone. No trace of her. No evidence that she had even existed, though every item of garment I sought out as I redressed reeked of this perfume. My socks. My shirt. It was as if they had all been laundered in this liquid then pressed in its steam. Now, I carry it with me, everywhere I go: Nothing will get it off, so I bring it here, to this Holy Place, with head bowed, and misery in my heart. I bring it along with the audacity to beg forgiveness, though I know I deserve it not: For how many times have I myself brought such punishment unto others, desirous only of my own pleasures? And how many times have I left some poor soul naked and weeping, covered in my own stench, equally indelible? How many times have I remorselessly done unto others what she, this woman did unto me, I who was willing, who drank of her nectar as if it were the very wine of Heaven, and laid there, spattered in her eruptions, delighting in them, lapping them up like a crazed animal in heat? Is it not said that there is no sin so black that it cannot be forgiven? Even these? Even these that went on at that Ball… At That Bal a Versailles?
25th December, 2011
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This review is for the EDC diluition.

I usually approach reviews for this kind of classic compositions trying to avoid the usual note explanation. I generally prefer to give an overall idea of what the fragrance smells like and always suggest to any "real" perfume lover to not miss the chance to experience such classic beauties.

Here we go...

Take vintage Shalimar and deprive it of a little sweetness being careful, at the same time, to manitain a solid dose of spicy and powdery vanilla. Add the skanky aspect of Kouros (the urinous honey note plus the civet plus the greased hair musky vibe) and refine it with a consistent Orange Blossoms note on top. Et voilà. AMAZING stuff!

As a friend use to say, Bal A Versailles EDC is like a skanky naughty girl.

Classic but not aged. Terrific lasting power and great projection. If moderately applied does great also on a man. If you'll ever experience a skankier EDC, please, drop me a line..
26th November, 2011
'Bal a Versailles' is in a category all on it's own with the exception of possibly one other, *Tabu* by Jean Carles & the title would be "Orientalis Magnifica Decadensis". I love the way Luca Turin describes how Tabu,"The Genghis Khan" of orientals has the ability to clear a hotel lobby should a bottle break in some poor unfortunates luggage, 'Bal a Versailles' instantly reminds me of the ORIGINAL 1930's Tabu extrait formulated & produced in France ! It is said Bal a Versailles contains nearly 300 essences, absolutes, tinctures & bases mostly natural as well as some synthetics, I have all concentrations from the highly exotic huile de bain and parfum de toilette to the potent & mystifying liquid gold of the pure parfum. A great way to wear and experience the heady floral, ambre and ever so musky animalic delights of 'Bav' is to layer and alternate the different vintages & concentrations, this creates a personal blend if you will while saving and prolonging stocks of precious favorite bottles. A little goes a long way with this floriental juice of powerhouse proportions, I also have a uneasy premonition that a major reformulation may be a distinct possibility in the not so distant future, 'BaV' has held true without too much interference since it's launch in the early 60's, time to re-stock now for diehard fans of this legendary juice from the once esteemed house of Jean Desprez, of this I am most certain!
07th November, 2011 (last edited: 14th June, 2014)
Just got some of the EDC (white bottle, gold cap) off Evilbay. Not sure of the vintage, but the blue box lacks the Der Grüne Punkt and ingredients are listed as alcohol, water, and fragrance and D&C Brown n.l, so before 1991, I figure.
Whatever the date, I like this stuff. Powdery honey spice with a root-beer tinted musk. Reminds me of vintage Tabu, but more refined. More call girl than reasonably priced, conveniently located sex worker. I would love to try the vintage parfum.
Actually this would be a great scent for a roller derby girl. It's strong, feminine, charmingly retro and would go well with sweat.
06th October, 2011
Ralph Show all reviews
United Kingdom
EDC:

If you put Muscs Koublai Khan through Photoshop - dropping the saturation a fair bit, adding a layer of powdery white at about 30% opacity, pasting in a sharp neroli note at the opening from somewhere - you'd end up with something like Bal à Versailles.

I can see why a lot of people love this, sure: there's a bewitching and reassuring feel to it beyond the opening notes.

It ain't me though, nope, it sure ain't me.
01st June, 2011
if i had ten thumbs every one of them would be up. to me, the greatest perfume ever. i don't know if it was rejigged at any point but all my BaV are vintage - from the early early 70s. lasts two days on my skin, two glorious days.
17th May, 2011 (last edited: 27th May, 2011)
I, like Lilybelle, have the little white bottle of Bal A V. and I couldn't love it more. I found it at the Elizabeth Arden warehouse sale(!). Who knows how it got there; and the price was certainly right. It was an offer I couldn't refuse. And of course, the scent itself seduced me, so to speak, at first whiff. I wasn't aware of the scents rather prestigious history at the time. I just thought it smelled great. Instantly taken by it, and I'd been smelling stuff all afternoon. Bal A Versaille just cut through all the others. It has all these decadent, libertine associations and I'm not sure if that's warranted or simply the image it's meant to project...
In any event, when I wear it (and I'm a guy, but I think it's completely unisex) I make sure to spray a lot on my wrist so I can keep smelling it all day. It's like a cake you can't stop taking little slices of! So...let them eat cake! ;)
14th May, 2011
blueyezz Show all reviews
United Kingdom
Good heavens - this really is a skank monster. A Libertines damp underwear, which is apt as the name and bottle evoke decadence of the powdered wig variety, with a dab of rouge, here and here. This is fragrance as costume drama.

I was mooching around Fenwicks Perfume Hall and tested this along with Mouchoir de Monsieur, so I was working the Belle Epoque, liberally doused with the royal court of King Louis XIV.

I sprayed this on my arm and got on the Tube home, feeling very self conscious due to the intense animalic element, which is the strongest I've experienced. Now, later, its dried down to something a little more conventional, floral and powdery but still the rudest Oriental I’ve ever had the privilege to try.

For Christmas I got the Roi Soleil candle from Cire Trudon, which apparently smells like the polished wood floor of the Mirror Room at the Palace of Versailles. The combination makes for a wonderful and evocative olfactory experience.

I’ll have to buy it at some point in the future, although I’m not sure I’ll have the guts to wear it.
03rd January, 2011 (last edited: 04th January, 2011)
Gorgeous, cheap unisex classic. I wore it to jail when I got a DUI and didn't regret it. The EDT has enough well-blended poopy skank that it gives off an aura of sophistication and wordliness without descending into vulgarity. Not that I have any problems with descending into vulgarity- I wear Giorgio! But Bal is a classic that is truly representative of its time- it beautifully anticipates the coming fashion, tied in with the sexual liberation movement, for single-note animalics, and wouldn't be out of place on Brian Jones or Mick Jagger.

The bottle, with its Marie Antoinette-through-a-sixties-filter maidens and whiskey flask shape, is PURE, HILARIOUS GOLD. It's a great summer fragrance, you can really bathe in it without offending anyone, but is probably too thin for winter. I look forward to trying the extrait.
16th November, 2010
BayKAT Show all reviews
United States
A week ago I visited a friend in Chicago, and she took me to a performance of the top 10 winners of a summer reality show.

Now I don't have a TV, and had vaguely heard of the show. When it started each of the ten acts was flashed across the big sreen, but one performer in particular caused the crowd to go nuts.

Let's just say that when you have no preparation for Prince Poppycock, your mouth hits the floor and you jump out of your seat for a standing ovation along with everyone else.

Likewise, Bal a Versailles is best approached wiht no preconceived notions. I think it's image gets in its way, and if you didn't know any better you'd say to yourself, "My, what a lovely, soft powdery floral."

This scent is oddly addictive. When i stick my nose in it I get this strange spice note that is course and off putting, but when I smell the sillage It's so unusual I can't 'sniff away.'

I found myself chasing after my own scent trail, for no other than reason than morbid curiosity. There's just nothing like this out there. My version is from the 70's era, and I appreciate it more than the EDC I tried last year. It's smoother and more refined.

A standing ovation for Bal A Versailles!
31st October, 2010
I got a bottle of vintage Eau de Cologne which I decanted into a little spray bottle.
Upon first spray, BaV smells very dirty, pungent, indolic and animalic. It makes me think of a dog or a dirty cage.
As soon as the dog note calms down; rich orange flower, honey and musk take stage. The scent melts into the skin and I am left with a gorgeous golden halo that is comforting yet sexxxy at the same time.
The name is more than fitting. BaV is a decadent beauty that will not appeal for the masses in this era of scrubbed-clean detergent smell alikes. I like my scents more dirty than clean.
I think this can easily be worn by a man too.
17th October, 2010
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Decadent...Lush....Dirty and/or animalic....Gorgeous!
15th September, 2010
CoL Show all reviews
United Kingdom
(From Fragrantica)
Top notes are rosemary, orange blossom, mandarin orange, cassia, jasmine, rose, neroli, bergamot, bulgarian rose and lemon; middle notes are sandalwood, patchouli, lilac, orris root, vetiver, ylang-ylang and lily-of-the-valley; base notes are tolu balsam, amber, musk, benzoin, civet, vanilla, cedar and resins.


I'm amazed at this perfume. Made in 1962 yet doesn't smell dated. The great thing about womens fragrances from that era is they are now so unisex! I just adore this stuff!
10th August, 2010
After finding out, that this was Joan Collins signature scent,
I wanted to try it out badly, so, a fellow BNer send me a big
decant, and, oh my God, this is so good.

It's alsolutely as decadent, sexy and vulgar as I have always
imagined a ball at Versailles hosted by Marie Antoinette would
have been.

This seems to be loved by many celebs too, known users incl.:
Joan Collins as mentioned; Elizabeth Taylor; Michael Jackson;
and Queen Elizabeth II herself!

Two thumbs up.
01st June, 2010
Oh my, sadly this one was a scrubber along with Guerlain's Jicky...and I don't scrub perfume off too often (coming from a woman who loves Musc Ravageur). I have to agree with a few others who cite this fragrance as old school and dated, reminiscent of glory days way gone by. The only image I would add is the hyper-sillage one smells from the elderly woman who passes by seeking a seat on the public bus or in church :0(

This fragrance started to give me a headache. Yes, it does remind me of Shalimar and all of that...enough said. After the initial cheap floral bite, I waited for the spicy incense dry down...nothing. Bal a Versailles started to smell like rancid "bad" perfume on me that has "turned" because it has been in the bottle too long. Reminds me of something I would pick up on my grandmother or aunt's dresser as a kid and quickly put back down...and I'm over a half-century old ;0)

Yes, I can see this at the counter of some old department store in any town USA. Sorry to offend anyone but this is a no-go.
18th April, 2010 (last edited: 28th February, 2015)
A fine perfume with a lot of body and substance. Very good choice for everybody who loves the "volupté" of Shalimar, but craves for some muskier aspects. Bal a Versailles doesn't focus on the "creme brulée aspect" of vanilla, but concentrates on civet and orange oils. Perfect!
23rd March, 2010
The opening blast reminds me of a much more animalic Vol de Nuit that morphs over time to a very heavy scent that's typical of its era, being driven by its very heavy musks,and ending on something that reminds me of Paco Rabanne Pour Homme -with its relatively dry, soapy, and heavy musks that could be overpowering if not applied judiciously. There's no escaping the prominent civet note, which doesn't strike me as particularly dirty, although it does help to give the fragrance its depth. This is not a very expensive perfume, and while I can't say it smells cheap, it's not quite as luxurious as I would like for a heavy oriental. It's still a good perfume.

I've only tried the parfum.
05th February, 2010
i love the smell. its romantic and classic i love it....i smell like michael jackson
11th December, 2009
This used to be one of my mother's favorites. I bought it and it smells different from what I remember. I've only tried it once and it had kind of a plastic smell at first but better after a while. I need to try it again to make a final decision.
01st September, 2009
Mmmmm. Perfect! An ambery floral with a chalkdust note that softens the sharpness. An elusive peachy fruit note makes this pleasant and wearable.
If there is musk, it is not the sweet juicy white musk I'm used to smelling in newer frags (I don't like that kind of musk). It is dry and dusty but not too much so.
There is a vague sweet richness which is delicate and hard to define.
For some reason Bal a Versailles reminds me of old books and paintings, the historical buildings on my college campus, and the beautiful intelligent people who inhabit them.
A smart scent in my mind. I. LOVE. THIS. STUFF. !!
07th August, 2009
Bal a Versailles has been a favourite of mine since 1977, when I moved to it from Opium. I wore it for a few years until it became almost impossible to get in the UK. Now it is only available - and only infrequently - at limited outlets like Harrod's 'Urban Retreat'. My current bottle was purchased in Boston, USA.

According to an article in British Vogue, B a V was reformulated around 2002. This must be why my current bottle smells slightly different from my earlier ones. It smells more musky and animalic. I prefer the original, which was truly delicious, but the reformulation is also very good.

Bal a Versailles is a magnificent, complex, and intriguing scent, which comes in a beautiful bottle. It's also a reputed favourite of Queen Elizabeth II. Like Jackie Onassis, she has excellent taste.
09th May, 2009
I was ready to dislike this. It can be had cheaply and the rather girlish bottle potents something cloying and outdated. Well, I was wrong. While I wasn't completely wowed over by the rather fascinating light oriental floral of the eau de cologne, the drydown is one of the most ravishing I've smelled for a while. Really beautiful. Cheap and beautiful- yes, that is possible!
10th April, 2009
I have liked this fragrance for many years, since the early 70's, when I discovered it working at a perfume counter in a big department store. I worked in men’s cosmetics, but I tried as many ladies perfumes as I could and this was my favorite. I think that the perfume smells much better than the edt though. There is a rather shocking sharpness in the edt that does not seem to be in the perfume. After the initial unpleasantness, it mellows out quite a but. The perfume has a nicer sweetness to it and brings a richly romantic overindulgence to mind, like dangerous liaisons or something. I wish there were more Jean Desprez perfumes available.
14th March, 2009
I am surprised to see BàV described as “soft,” “sweet,’ “romantic” on some review sites. It’s not that innocent. In my own mood categories, I’ve always placed BàV beside L’Air de Rien. I think of LdR as a kinder, gentler BàV. I am pleasantly shocked by BàV’s unabashed, sex-in-a bottle appeal. On second thought, it is more like afterglow in a bottle: lush and languid, warm and spent, a bit rumpled and hastily dressed. Rather than invite seduction, Bal à Versailles suggests the secret of having been seduced. The delicious, animalic basenotes are evident from the beginning, and dominate over time. I don’t get any powder or soap. Just a mix of leathery, slightly smoky, floral, musky, civety, velvet.

Like an olfactory tattoo, the EDT penetrates my skin so thoroughly and for so long that I wonder if it will be permanent. It smolders to such an extent that I find myself touching my arm to see if my skin indeed radiates heat.

I don’t find it dated (bottle design aside), because this sort of scent was never really trendy. The container is a masterpiece of kitsch, a parody of perfume bottles, an ironic interpretation of the scent itself. Or perhaps that’s the idea: the overdressed look of the bottle attempts to cover the nakedness of the scent within. A strange, daring, disturbing, beautiful, haunting, love-it or hate-it scent. Love it.
I"m reviewing the EDT. Get the EDC for the dirtiest, and possibly the best formulation.
10th February, 2009 (last edited: 06th March, 2011)
Glorious! Elegant and classy, simply wonderful.
07th January, 2009 (last edited: 22nd January, 2020)
Wow! What a complex scent. I was at the local overstock store,and saw Bal A Versailles EDC. I tried a spray, and well, I wasn't impressed. At all. As it settled down, it grew on me. So, I went back and paid my $8, and got a bottle. It smells like a mix of soap and powder, slightly wilted floral arrangements, and musk. It isn't the smell of the ball in full swing, but hours into it, when everyone has stripped off their wraps and gloves, and kicked off their shoes. There is an old-timey decadence to this scent. The more I smell of this, the more I love it. I'd love to try this in a stronger concentration.
28th December, 2008
this smelled a bit like wee-scented leather on me for a bit, which really turned me off. then warmth and incense. a nice affair, but nothing to write home about, particularly the wee part.
21st November, 2008
I agree w/ the rockstar on the old elementary school smell. Is it the chalkboard? This scent does not agree w/ me in the bottle nor when I wear it. The floral is musty and elderly floral print. I might try it again in ten years. As renperd said- I want to like it too! I'm sure I sound like an unrefined ignoramus, but I really do not understand. Sorry. I am neutral only because it is more my particular chemistry rather than the quality of the scent that is the problem.
20th November, 2008