Thanks to Mike Perez' generosity, at long last, I am finally able to sample Jo Malone's resplendent Pomegranate Noir.
The initial sniff quickly brings black pepper to minda sniff, thankfully, that carries no ill-effect unlike the real thing. This is black pepper with an underlying booziness, a pure, refined, barely discernable alcohol base that gives this perfume a certain ethereal nature in those opening notes.
Then, to my nose, comes the incensy smokiness, not unlike that of Commes De Garcon's Kyoto or Avignon. This is not a little surprising, considering what I've read of it. Surprising, but most definitely not unpleasant; I like this. A lot.
I can already think of the many situations and places I can wear Noir, and they are all refined and classy. Not for the local downtown bar hopping scene. No, Noir is a sharp bladed elegance, like a night out wearing a bespoke Tuxedo, a blonde draped on your arm; the promise of carnal pleasures at the end of the night and into the morning lingers all over the back of the speeding limo and quickens the pulse; sex, martinis and the lingering smell of a clove cigarette.
So far, these are my initial impressions. They have not gone further, but with Pomegranate Noir, I look forward to what it will reveal on that long journey towards dawn.
The initial sniff quickly brings black pepper to minda sniff, thankfully, that carries no ill-effect unlike the real thing. This is black pepper with an underlying booziness, a pure, refined, barely discernable alcohol base that gives this perfume a certain ethereal nature in those opening notes.
Then, to my nose, comes the incensy smokiness, not unlike that of Commes De Garcon's Kyoto or Avignon. This is not a little surprising, considering what I've read of it. Surprising, but most definitely not unpleasant; I like this. A lot.
I can already think of the many situations and places I can wear Noir, and they are all refined and classy. Not for the local downtown bar hopping scene. No, Noir is a sharp bladed elegance, like a night out wearing a bespoke Tuxedo, a blonde draped on your arm; the promise of carnal pleasures at the end of the night and into the morning lingers all over the back of the speeding limo and quickens the pulse; sex, martinis and the lingering smell of a clove cigarette.
So far, these are my initial impressions. They have not gone further, but with Pomegranate Noir, I look forward to what it will reveal on that long journey towards dawn.
