1804 by Histoire de Parfums, 2001

1804 is a tropical fantasy of a perfume. Speaking for my people, pasty white folks, tropical is something we can refer to but can never really pull off. We just weren't meant to. And though I shout to the heavens that taste is arbitrary, nuance can be the difference between a sunburnt, drunken conga line listing to "Don't Worry, Be Happy" and a quiet hand-in-hand evening walk in the sand.   Imagine one of the huge white floral perfumes on tropical vacation: Joy sunbathing in Moorea or Amouage Gold diving in Tahiti. Keep the volume and the sillage, but dial back the uptight. 1804 is a spicy floriental in the grand manner. The allusion may be to tropical scents, but this bad girl is a classic French perfume in her bones.   As such, 1804 has exceptional form, but since the implied tone of lushness and leisure takes precedence over structure, form gives way to expression.  Form as seen in a 'classical'  white floral fragrance seems like artifice. Intent and composition are fused in 1804 and it achieves that balletic ambition of surpassing technique and simply moving.   1804 is a spectacular application of classical technique and should put the corner-cutting school of perfumery on notice.  Swoon-worthy. 

First of all: I adore pineapple. I love its taste- expecially enlivened by just a touch of black pepper in festive desserts ; I love its scent, from the tart, slightly sour greeness of the unripe fruit to the sweet and juicy full ripeness, even to the alcoholic, almost intoxicating aroma of the early decay. So, I obviously am very curious about pineapple fragrances.
1804 immediately struck me positively with its strong and brilliant pineapple note, its proper spices (pepper, Id say, even if its not listed) and exotic flowers (tiarè, jasmin) that conjured up a combination very plesasant to my nose. But, in a few minutes, the musks begin to emerge powerfully and slowly seem to submerge evrything else, levelling the scent on a persistent but monotonous note, in which pineapple is boosted and dominates on an almost indistinct flowery-ambery base. I cant detect anything else until the very end of the drydown, when a sweet vanilla shyly appears. Maybe its because I really dont love musks- theres a particular white musk note (I cant name the molecule, but can detect it in very faint traces) that has the power of ruining the fragrance completely, after Ive sensed it!- maybe because I generally prefer less blatant and more subtly evolving fragrances, but I cant give it more than
neutral.

I"m giving this an initial sniff becaue I just got back from Maui 12 hours ago, so fresh pineapple, tahitian gardenias and cool, island breezes are still hanging on my skin and clothes. While this does not transport me back to the islands it does bring up some good memories:

Heated plastic. Every day I smushed my face into a snorkling mask after a long drive in the car. That initial whiff of warm plastic is captured nicely here.

Pineapple wedgies. Opening blast smells just like the garnishment on my mai tai last night.

Stinky flamethrowers. One night we went to a Luau that ended with a guy who danced with fire sticks. Afterwards I had my picture taken standing next to him where I got a good whiff of his sweaty body. This is one memory I could wihtout, actually.

Gardenia/tiara: You have to make an effort not to step on these, they are so plentiful there. Here the note is not as pure as it is on the islands. Nevertheless, it is sure to rekindle your desire to strap on a coconut bra and to shake those hips.

A fun, light and breezy fragrance. do I agree that it is 4 star? Not after sampling Galimard's pineapple fragrances. But a noteworthy option, certainly.