It’s mini time again: another round-up of my reviews from Twitter and Instagram. To read the others in the series, please click here.
La Petite Robe Noire Black Perfecto from Guerlain (Thierry Wasser; 2017)*
Another well-written chapter in the little black dress story, this time topping the rosy cherry with a hint of dry, bitter leather.
Olim from Trudon (Lyn Harris; 2017)*
Before fougères became rough and uncouth, they smelt a little bit like this. Delicate anisic spices and lavender. Almost creamy benzoin and myrrh base. The power of lowering one’s voice.
Mortel from Trudon (Yann Vasnier: 2017)*
Incense has the ability to be the most enveloping, the most meditative of perfumery notes. But sometimes it can be rendered chilly and reedy. Mortel falls into latter camp. Strange, geranium-like brightness doesn’t help.
II from Trudon (Lyn Harris; 2017)*
Instant, room-filling cut grass, wholly green, with pea aspects, peppery touches and biting juniper. But then the naturalness fades. You see the grass not on a field but a hydroponic assembly line on a space station.
Revolution from Trudon (Lyn Harris; 2017)*
Somewhat predictable but effective storm of gunpowder, birch tar, flames, vetivert and the leathery aspects of cade and cypriol. Perhaps a suggestion of ivy greenness. Loud, but not revolutionary.
Sens Abstrait from Evody (Cecile Zarokian; 2017)*
Trying to create a perfume that smells of nothing recognisable is challenging in the extreme. Cecile Zarokian makes valiant attempt with a fuzzy ‘bubble tea’ vibe and blurred woods. Veers towards blandness.
Couleur Fauve from Evody (Cecile Zarokian; 2017)*
A massive, growling, beastly amber, filled to cage-busting point – according to the perfumer – with every ambery ingredient in the palette, not least the flesh-fest that is Ambrarome. A gothic Dracula setting, lit by hundreds of candles.
Tubereuse Manifeste from Evody (Cecile Zarokian; 2017)*
Intriguing take on perfumery’s vamp queen. One moment it’s like tuberose pumped out of a car exhaust. The next it’s rising off red nail varnish. Fresh, green and unsettling in equal measure. Commendably original.
Hamaca from 27/87 (Shyamala Maisondieu; 2017)*
Fig-like greens, coconut and sandalwood convince that this could be a lazy summer snooze in a garden. Even the marine note doesn’t spoil the image. It’s all rather too quiet, though.
Riven Oak from Tom Daxon (2017)*
Straightforward, 80s-inflected vetivert, with a predictable citrus note and a backdrop of cedar.
Oud Wood & Amyris from 100 Bon (2017)*
Despite the paleness it displays at the start, this stuff lasts surprisingly well, connecting the peppery side of amyris with the burnt sensibilities of cypriol and cade. A quiet addition to the oud genre.
Myrrhe Et Encens Mystérieux from 100 Bon (2017)*
An easy-to-wear sweep of balsams and resins. Powdery. Ambery. Slightly earthy. Totally inoffensive and likeable, but also not very long-lasting. A flying visit to Marrakesh.
Cedre & Iris Soyeux from 100 Bon (2017)*
Unremarkable take on cedar, lacking contrasts. Emphasis on the tangy aspects of the wood, with a vanilla humming in the base.
Coach For Men from Coach (Anne Flipo & Bruno Jovanovic; 2017)*
No season would be complete without at least one entry in the ‘kill me now I can’t take this any more’ category of masculine scents, ie generic citruses over generic woods and generic amber materials. Some people must like being clones.
Oud Vibration from Dear Rose (Fabrice Pellegrin; 2017)*
Yes, it may be a well-executed example of the ‘tooth and claws’ variety of rough, rosy ouds, but it’s also totally predictable. And it certainly didn’t make me vibrate.
Oud & Bergamot cologne intense from Jo Malone (2010)*
Some perfumes bring me close to understanding what women really mean when they describe a man as ‘creepy’. Behold: Oud & Bergamot. Paltry citruses at top (dear bergamot, why do some brands insist on taking your name in vain?) awkwardly dragged alongside bile-inducing woods (dear oud, why do some brands insist on taking your name in vain?). Like an unsavoury codger, it leers at you from the corner of the room, winking with rheumy eyes. Shudder.
Persolaise
* sample provided by the brand
** sample obtained by the author
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Your minis are always an amusing read. R
Thanks so much for reading them, Richard.
…hydroponic assembly line on a space station; veers towards blandness; 'kill me now I can't take any more' category; & every word of the last review – I must remember not to be mid way through a cuppa or glass of wine when I read your Mini Reviews, Persolaise, as there's a good chance of liquid damage to screen/keyboard! As always, you're a genius with words.
Well… I take no responsibility for ruined hardware!
Thanks so much for reading and for the kind words.