Nina Ricci – Farouche

Nina Ricci – Farouche


The Nina Ricci fragrance line is one that I did not traditionally have much exposure to growing up, as none of the women in my family wore it. I did have a distant aunt who sometimes wore L’Air du Temps, but we’ll save that for another post. No wonder then that the house’s 1973 release Farouche failed to catch my attention until now (there were after all plenty of other fragrances to keep me busy).

I recently purchased an assortment of vintage perfume minis, and one fragrance included in the assortment was Nina Ricci’s Farouche in the Eau de Toilette concentration. While I have a decent knowledge of French, I will admit that I was not familiar with the word “Farouche”. Interestingly, I did not look it up until after I had tested the fragrance several times, fearing it might skew my impression. In that vein, I will keep its meaning silent until the end of the post.

Farouche opens with some fizzy aldehydes adding lift to a soft orange and galbanum melange. While galbanum fragrances generally make weak in the knees, Farouche comes on like a whisper. The heart unfolds to a gentle floral bouquet of jasmine, lily-of-the-valley and geranium, to which iris lends a hint of powder, While carnation and clary sage add a bit of a twist, Farouche’s overall character remains moderate. The fragrance wafts up again after a about an hour or so, revealing a mossy, vetiver base, reminiscent of classics such as Ma Griffe, but executed with a subtle hand.

In fact, my main issue with Farouche was its faint presence, which made an otherwise lovely fragrance with all of the hallmarks of a classic, slightly forgettable in the face of other mossy, green giants. That being said, this lightness of character would make it a perfect scent for someone just starting to explore the genre, as it touches on all of the aspects of a mossy green floral. I can only imagine how lovely the parfum concentration must be, though I have heard that is subtle as well. The Eau de Toilette bottle is lovely, with its slender neck is reminiscent of a swan, while the flacon for the parfum (reportedly made by Lalique) resembles a heart.

And in case you are still wondering (and have not searched for it yourself), Farouche translates as shy. Perfect.

Floral Aldehyde

Notes: Aldehydes, Mandarin, Bergamot, Galbanum, Peach, Honeysuckle, Carnation, Iris, Lily, Clary Sage, Jasmine, Lily-of-the-Valley, Rose, Geranium, Cardamom, Sandalwood, Amber, Musk, Oakmoss, Vetiver.


Guerlain – Mitsouko

Guerlain – Mitsouko


Despite being named after the heroine in Claude Farrère’s novel “La Bataille”, if each perfume symbolizes a woman, Mitsouko would have to be the mythological Eve, the first woman and mother of all. For it is in her composition that we can find the DNA for many beloved and wildly successful perfumes including Rochas Femme, Diorama, Youth Dew, Opium and Coco Chanel. Mitsouko was the astounding creation of Jacques Guerlain. Reflecting the world’s fascination with Chypre by Coty, a ground-breaking creation which combined the somewhat odd bedfellows of bergamot, jasmine, labdanum and oakmoss into what would ultimately become a new fragrance category, Guerlain took this novel concept one step further with the introduction of a warm, creamy, ripe peach note. The original Chypre is often described as being a bit rough around the edges, a quandary solved by Guerlain with the introduction of the newly-discovered Gamma-Undecalactone, also known as Aldehyde C-14. Without getting overly technical, there is some debate over the use of the aldehyde reference to C-14, which is technically a lactone, a term which refers both to the molecule’s structure as well as to its fragrance which often has a creamy (milky) scent. Aldehydes are often used to give a fragrance that special opening “sparkle” (imagine the first moments of Chanel No 5), whereas C 14 has a very specific golden peach tone. Nomenclature aside, the introduction of this molecule beautifully rounded out the more angular structure of Chypre into an unforgettable masterpiece.

Mitsouko is at once bold and soft, womanly and earthy. It is the smell of the fall, the warmth and spice of cinnamon and the odd sweetness of decomposing leaves. Its beauty is, quite simply, astounding. While Mitsouko is perhaps one of the most beloved and written about fragrances, it can often be a difficult one to approach if one is just developing their appreciation of vintage or more complex scents. Thanks in part to the inclusion of oakmoss, a popular perfume fixative before restrictions limited its use, Mitsouko has a certain musty smell reminiscent of library books which some find challenging upon first sniff. Ironically, it is the diminution of this same note in the modern, reformulated version, that many perfume enthusiasts bemoan the loss of.

Approaching perfume is not unlike learning about wine: at first, one’s palate can more readily appreciate simpler, sweeter wines, but with time, one is able to appreciate the dry and more complex varieties. So it is with Mitsouko, so be sure to give it some time if you are unable to love it right away – this is one of the perfumes most worth knowing. While many have followed in her steps, Mitsouko is perhaps the finest example of the Chypre genre, if not one of the greatest perfumes of all time.


While I have various examples of Mitsouko in my collection, each with a slightly different scent due in large part to varying ages, the new reformulated version is in some respects a distinct departure from the original vintage. While the lasting power matches that of the original (my scent strip still held scent 48 hours later) the unfolding of the fragrance was decidedly different. While it is definitely still recognizable as Mitsouko, there were aspects throughout the drydown that seemed quite foreign to my nose, and at one point I thought I had mixed up my samples. Overall the fragrance seemed thinner and while I was comparing a modern EdP to a vintage parfum, I attribute the lack of depth more to the absence of oakmoss than to the concentration, as vintage versions of the EdT or even EdC seemed to have more weight than the modern EdP.

Indeed, an overall note on the vintage EdT and EdC Guerlains (and Chanels as well) – these are often excellent and substantial renditions of the parfum (with the exception perhaps of Chant D’Aromes). While they are often a touch more powdery than the parfum (especially true for L’Heure Bleue) they are a wonderful option if one is looking for a more affordable alternative to a vintage parfum.

Fruity Chypre

Notes: Bergamot, Lemon, Mandarin, Neroli, Peach, Rose, Clove, Ylang-Ylang, Cinnamon, Oakmoss, Labdanum, Patchouli, Benzoin, Vetiver.

Kenzo Jungle L’Elephant

Kenzo Jungle L’Elephant


October is officially upon us, marking the beginning of sweater weather for many. I live in a part of the world where it stays warm and humid for quite a bit longer, but the changing daylight patterns make me crave my fall and winter perfume wardrobe terribly. While there are some fragrances which will need to wait a little longer before coming into rotation, I start craving an oriental that can straddle the seasons and help tide me over until the cooler weather finally arrives.

I am always struck by how original Kenzo Jungle L’Elephant is, especially for its time. Were it to be released today (instead of in 1996), it would surely have been as a niche creation. It is without question one of Dominique Ropion’s more unique scents, a distinction it shares with Carnal Flower and Thierry Mugler’s Alien. L’Elephant is a wonderful melange of spices underscored by smoky woods and soft cashmeran. The sparkling mandarin opening is enlivened by cardamom, cloves and cumin. While I am not particularly reminded of either a jungle or an elephant, I do have the sense of being swept away on an exotic adventure.

Elephant de la Bastille watercolor by Jean Alavoine

Elephant de la Bastille watercolor by Jean Alavoine

L’Elephant’s heart is slightly anisic, the perfect interlude into its delicious woody base. While amber and cashmeran can often give a fragrance a dense heady quality, L’Elephant manages to remain light and sparkling. L’Elephant has terrific lasting power but is never overwhelming the way some of its sister orientals can be. L’Elephant can be found online for a reasonable price at several discount retailers or on eBay, where I purchased mine. It is an energizing, powerful scent which never fails to give me a lift.

Notes: Mandarin, Cardamom, Cumin, Clove, Ylang-Ylang, Licorice, Mango, Heliotrope, Patchouli, Vanilla, Amber, Cashmere.

Hermès – Iris Ukiyoé

Hermès – Iris Ukiyoé

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Irises – Katsushika Hokusai

Jean-Claude Ellena is without a doubt the reigning champion of diaphanous florals. In this, the 9th fragrance from the exclusive Hermessence line, he draws his inspiration from the watery minimalism of Japanese Ukiyoé prints to create an aquatic floral which seems to hover just out of focus, suspended in the air.

The biggest surprise about Iris Ukiyoé is that it smells nothing like the carrot-like, orris root fragrances which many of us are so fond of, like this, this and this. Instead, Ellena focuses on the scent of the iris flower itself, with all of its vegetal lightness. In fact, after the orange blossom opening disipates, Iris Ukiyoé smells more like a true-to-life rendering of Muguet à la Guerlain.


Being a lover of iris’s rooty goodness, I must admit to feeling a sense of slight disappointment at the fragrance’s development, especially given the price tag of the Hermessence line. After repeated testing however the beauty of the fragrance revealed itself, layer by gossamer layer. Now a hint of rose, next a green note reminiscent of cucumbers and green tea, and finally the soft floral veil that Ellena is so adept at.

While the fragrance possesses a sylphlike character, it does possess a subtle tenacity which I find intriguing. Just when I am ready to criticize the fragrance for vanishing, a closer look reveals her clinging to me, beckoning me to a closer inspection.


Notes: Mandarin, Orange Blossom, Iris, Green Shoots, Green Watery Notes.

Chanel – Nº 19 Poudré

Chanel – Nº 19 Poudré

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There are some fragrances which take me ages to review, simply because I find them uninspiring. Then there are those fragrances which are so sublimely iconic that they are nearly impossible to reduce to mere words. Finally, there are those fragrances which I have difficulty getting my head around and need time to reflect upon before formulating an opinion, let alone a review.

No 19 Poudré falls into this last category, emphatically so. My expectation upon its release in 2011 was that it would be something along the lines of how the Chanel website describes it – a “luminous re-imagining of Coco Chanel’s signature scent”.  Given how bold the original Nº19 is, I envisioned its Poudré sister would be equally so, with a dose of modern perfumery’s requisite sweetness and of course, powder. I could not have been more mistaken.

Admittedly, it took me some time to get over my preconceptions, so much so, that I made a (short-lived) vow never to read a perfume press release again.  But once I got past the lack of crisp galbanum, the boldness of leather and the rich, earthiness of oakmoss, I started focusing on what the fragrance did possess.

To truly appreciate this fragrance, my recommendation is this: forget the name. Put it completely out of your mind that this bears any relation whatsoever with Nº19, since the only impression of the original is as though smelled from a great distance, through a smoky veil.

Nº19 Poudré possesses subtle, delicate green notes which feel as soothing as toner on sunburnt skin. Rather than focus on the sharp, angular aspects of the original, the fragrance highlights its subtleties. Stripped of its edgy aspects, Poudré feels like a powdery floral, rounded out with super-clean musks and sweetened with tonka. The overall effect of is of an iris powder-puff surrounded by a fuzzy incense cloud. While I cannot help but wish for more dimensionality and lasting power in the scent, Jacques Polge did create a lovely-enough iris fragrance.

Notes: Mandarin, Neroli, Iris, Jasmine, Galbanum, Vetiver, Musk, Tonka Bean.

Robert Piguet – Calypso

Robert Piguet – Calypso 

Odysseus and Calypso by Hendrik van Balen

Odysseus and Calypso by Hendrik van Balen

It has been a long time since I experienced a love at first sniff. Quite to the contrary, I typically sample repeatedly before I buy and implore my friends to do the same. There is nothing worse than an impulse buy – especially when fragrances today are designed to smell especially good in the opening notes. I have heard too many perfumistas sing the praises of a perfume, only to arrive home and feel the heartbreak of paying too much, or having the romance be short-lived because the drydown was disappointing. And yet despite all precautions, there I stood face to face with a new love at the Robert Piguet counter at Bergdorf Goodman in New York, and had no choice but to summon all my willpower to avoid buying it on the spot.

I had stopped by the beauty and fragrance level of Bergdorf to gaze at the lovely Guerlain display and sample Caron to my heart’s delight, but more on that later. After spraying myself with various different fragrances, and picking up samples of Oud, Bois Noir and Casbah, I left the store to do some sight-seeing.

The rest of the afternoon I was haunted by a soft, slightly floral, powdery patchouli dream of a drydown. My only problem was that I had tested no less than 9 perfumes on my skin that afternoon, so how to uncover which I had fallen in love with! As I sat down that evening, I went through my blotters and notes, which allowed me to eliminate many candidates. I knew it could not be a Caron, as it did not have the distinct flourish unique to Carons in the drydown. I know all the Guerlains by heart, so those were eliminated immediately.

NMC0W2F_mxI went through each of the Piguet samples until I found the source – an alluring and yet subtle mixture of modern lightness and a soft powdery quality prevalent in vintage fragrances such as L’Heure Bleue. The geranium opening quickly softens to a light rose, tempered by a soft iris. The drydown arrives fairly quickly, and in fact, is perceptible from the opening. The loveliest warm patchouli, mellowed by a light amber and soft, suede-like smell. Now that I have fallen in love with the modern version, which was reformulated by Aurelien Guichard, I am extremely curious to smell the 1950s vintage version. And yes, I have since purchased a bottle!

For those familiar with Chanel’s Coromandel and Borneo 1834 by Serge Lutens, this will seem like a tamer, subtler interpretation of a similar  patchouli theme, but it has its own merits. While Calypso is not particularly edgy or innovative, it has a subtle beauty and sophistication which make it a joy to wear. And after all, isn’t that what fragrance is all about?

Notes: Geranium, mandarin, rose, iris patchouli, amber and suede.





L.T. Piver – Cuir

L.T. Piver – Cuir

LIGNE-PIVER-CUIRWhile not well-known in the United States, the French L.T.Piver house has been producing fine fragrances for over two centuries. The firm dates its origins back to the court of Louis XVI and has continued through the to the twenty-first century, adapting many of its traditional fragrances to a modern sensibility. Similar to the houses of Lubin and Guerlain, L.T. Piver became an official purveyor to the royal court of Louis XVI and later expanded to the other royal families of Europe.

The firm is named for Louis Toussaint Piver who began the Piver legacy, and helped propel it to international acclaim in England, Belgium, Spain, Austria, Russia and Brazil. L.T. Piver maintained a flower-processing factory in Grasse, plus a second facility in Aubervilliers dedicated to the manufacture of cosmetic products, of which L.T. Piver created a prodigious range. Similar to Guerlain, the firm commissioned special edition bottles from Baccarat and Lalique, which would be destined to become collector’s items.

This review is for the modern Cuir produced as an Eau de Toilette by L.T. Piver. The fragrance was imagesoriginally created at the end of the nineteenth century under the Cuir de Russie moniker, consistent with that era’s fascination with Russian culture. This manufacture date makes L.T. Piver’s creation a contemporary of Guerlain’s Cuir de Russie, and indeed, the two share certain similarities. Both feature a stronger, smokier birch tar smell than either the Chanel or Lubin Cuirs, giving the fragrance a more rustic feel. The strength of their smell characters also feels decidedly more masculine, although the Guerlain Cuir softens to a floral heart in the drydown, while the L.T. Piver maintains a fairly homogenous character throughout its wear. The modern L.T. Piver Cuir is marketed to a male audience, so the emphasis on the strong birch tar aspect without a softer, floral counterpoint seems intentional, but gives the fragrance a somewhat one-dimensional aspect when compared to the Guerlain.

Cuir’s opening features a bright citrus accord of mandarin and bergamot, which serve to lighten the fragrance somewhat and create a sense of refreshment.  As the smoky birch tar unfolds, I detect the spicy notes of clove and cinnamon, giving the fragrance a rich feeling, one that makes it suitable for autumn or winter use. At the heart of Cuir is a hint of soapiness, and here is where the fragrance begins to soften somewhat. At its base, Cuir features a touch of woods and oakmoss, sweetened by a honey-like note, which I imagine to be the coumarin making its presence felt.

While Cuir does possess a distinct character that makes it a natural choice for a man, this is definitely a fragrance that can be carried off well by a woman who is not afraid of bracing leathers. The fragrance is fairly tenacious, lasting well throughout the day without fading excessively. The sillage, while potent, is never offensive with careful application, though I would not suggest more than 2 sprays of the fragrance.

Leather 140

Notes: Bergamot, mandarin, leather, woods, spices and honey



Chanel – Cuir de Russie

Chanel – Cuir de Russie

There are those fragrances that carry with them strong emotional associations, either because they were worn by a loved one, or because they were our close companion in the journey of life. My first encounter with Chanel’s Cuir de Russie was not unlike a scene in a movie where the protagonist’s life flashes before their eyes, revealing a series of memories and profound emotions. I was flooded with a thousand images and impressions. The stillness of the air on a cold winter night. The fur collar on my Russian great-grandfather’s coat mingled with the sweet scent of tobacco. The finest leather gloves and the elegance of a scented handkerchief. And yet how could a fragrance unknown to me have this effect?


Of the four Cuir de Russie fragrances  I have tested, for me, Chanel’s interpretation most closely embodied the romanticism and elegance of the genre and of the individuals who inspired its creation. Chanel’s fragrance embodies the exotic elements which the exiled Russian community brought with them to Paris, and yet it captures all of the refined elegance of their new home. Chanel’s Cuir de Russie personifies the spirit of the Roaring Twenties, where flappers shocked the world with their emancipated fashions, their dancing and smoking.

Chanel’s Cuir is a close contemporary of Lubin’s, and indeed the two share some similarities making it evident that they are variations on a theme. While the Guerlain Cuir de Russie invokes a rustic, revolutionary feel, Chanel’s is starkly different. Chanel’s Cuir de Russie was created in 1924, by master nose Ernest Beaux, himself a Russian exile. Beaux was born in Moscow and  trained in perfumery with the prestigious A. Rallet and Company, creator of perfumes for the courts of Imperial Russia. He eventually settled in Paris in 1919. He was introduced to Coco Chanel by the Grand Duke Dmitri Pavlovich of Russia, giving rise to a very successful and prodigious professional alliance.

Chanel’s Cuir starts out with a familiar burst of hesperidic aldehydes, which will be immediately familiar to devotees of Chanel No 5. But where No 5 softens to reveal a floral heart, Cuir de Russie unleashes a series of provocative notes: the sweet and acrid tobacco, an animalic fur note complete with a touch of mothballs, as though an elegant old coat had been taken out of storage in preparation for winter. The heart is an elegant floral composition which also feels like familiar Chanel territory, the finest examples of jasmine, rose and ylang ylang available. The fragrance culminates in the beauty of leather, the softest, most supple leather imaginable, and yet through its smoky darkness, retains a touch of the soft floral heart.

This review is based upon both the vintage parfum and the reformulated version available from the Chanel Les Exclusifs line. Both are phenomenal, with the parfum revealing more of the depth and beauty of the animalic leather notes and the eau de toilette possessing more of the life of aldehydes.

Leather Oriental

Notes: Orange Blossom, Bergamot,  Mandarin, Jasmine, Rose, Ylang-Ylang and Birchwood

Christian Dior – Dune

Christian Dior – Dune

christian-dior-dune-kristina-semenovskaya_thumb[3]An increasingly central focus of modern perfumery is advertising. While advertising in different forms has always been key to promoting perfume to consumers, budgets have increased exponentially in recent years, vastly surpassing the cost of producing the actual perfume. Fragrance houses also use advertising as a means of promoting (or creating) a perfume’s identity, the fantasy we consumers are lulled into buying.

After the impossibly extroverted perfumes of the 1980s, the 1990s shifted the focus to cleaner, lighter, marine-inspired scents. The advertising also seemed equally “sanitized” after the more provocative ads of the 1980s, perhaps in reaction to changing social mores after an era of decadence. Case in point, a comparison of the advertising for Christian Dior’s Dune, which features ethereal beauties and that of its 1985 release Poison, which often featured black-clad and heavily made-up dark beauties. And yet with Dune, despite the serene advertisements depicting blonde beauties lounging on a beach, I am reminded not of a seaside retreat, but of the rippled sand dunes on a distant planet in an imaginary universe created by Frank Herbert.

Dune, published in 1965 and hailed as the world’s best-selling science fiction novel, tells the story of an intergalactic struggle to dominate a single planet, Dune, in order to control the precious substance cultivated there: spice. The spice, ironically named “Melange”, is similar to a narcotic: highly addictive, becoming more so with prolonged use. Spice/Melange is valued above all else for its ability to expand consciousness, prolong life and allow for instantaneous interstellar travel. Paul Atreides and his mother, a member of the Bene Gesserit sisterhood – a group of women with mystical and witchlike powers – relocate to the planet Dune with the mission of overseeing spice production, a difficult and dangerous process, due to the existence of giant sandworms which patrol the planet’s surface, protecting the spice which is formed deep within the planet’s core.

Paul Atreides and his mother, the Lady Jessica

Paul Atreides and his mother, the Lady Jessica

The planet’s local inhabitants, known as Fremen, are greatly impressed by the mystical powers which Paul and his mother possess and believe Paul to be their long-awaited messiah. Paul instinctively knows that the key to power in the universe is directly tied to the control of spice production and befriends the Fremen, learning their survival tactics and teaching them some of the magical powers he has inherited from his mother, the Lady Jessica. The movie, released in 1984, is replete with scenes of Paul leading the Fremen, wearing futuristic black leather suits which protect them from the harsh desert elements and allow them to preserve the water given off by their bodies, which is absolutely vital to life on this dry, arrid planet. The smell of Melange is said to be pervasive and according to one character, its scent “is “never twice the same… It’s like life – it presents a different face each time you take it”.

Paul leading the Fremen

Paul leading the Fremen

Nothing could more aptly describe Christian Dior’s Dune. While certain fragrances are changeable during the stages of wear, Dune appears to be in a constant state of flux, throwing off different impressions by the second. Created in 1993 by a group of perfumers led by Jean-Louis Sieuzac, Dune is positively otherworldly. It possesses the heat of the desert under the daylight’s scorching sun and the dry quality of its unrelenting winds.  And yet it is completely devoid of warmth at the same time, feeling as black and cold as the leather suits worn by the Fremen. Dune’s ability to hover between fragrant realities is nothing short of magic.

Dune opens with a bitter, slightly anisic herbal punch that borders on the masculine, yet quickly fades to reveal a strange floral heart. The fragrance notes are deceptive, as Dune’s flowers have a dry, arrid quality which renders them largely unrecognizable. While peony and jasmine appear to dominate, the slightly green quality of the fragrance at times give me a carrot note. The marine aspect makes its presence felt in a subtle salty quality – the whisper of the winds across the fragrant sands – which kick up individual notes onto the wind. Similar to the Spice Melange, Dune is never the same twice – sometimes bitter and mossy, sometimes musky and floral – and yet always lovely.

While the entire fragrance is discernible from the opening, Dune mellows over time, revealing a hint of vanillic amber rounded by moss and woods. There is a softness to Dune, however, the fragrance is not light – it is like hearing a very powerful and complex orchestra piece played at a very low volume. Like shifting sands, the inconstant nature of Dune makes it a pleasure for some and uncomfortable for others. I personally adore this subtle, changeable aspect of Dune and am always thrilled when someone remembers this lesser known beauty, winner of a 1993 FiFi award.

*As an aside, the one attribute of Dune I find puzzling is its color which is soft and flesh-like, gorgeously displayed in its beautiful winged bottle. When I imagine Dune, in all its complexity, in its searing heat and biting coldness, it is as black as the Fremen’s leather suits.

Marine Oriental

Notes: bergamot, mandarin, palisander, aldehyde, peony, broom, jasmine, rose, ylang-ylang, lily, wallflower, lichen, vanilla, patchouli, benzoin, sandalwood, amber, oakmoss, and musk.


Kate Spade – Live Colorfully

Kate Spade – Live Colorfully

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While there are certain releases which I dream about for months, there are others which barely register on my interest radar. When I heard of the latest release from the Kate Spade fashion empire, Live Colorfully, a collaboration between consultants Fabrice Penot, Edouard Roche with input by Poppy King (and execution by Firmenich), I did not know what to expect. I grabbed a sample on a recent trip to Nordstrom and must admit that I was immediately put off by the psychedelic packaging.

Perhaps the problem lies with me, as I tend not to be overly “colorful”, with the exception of some Hermes scarves, but the sample card seemed to scream “plastic, harsh synthetic, fruity floral”. And therein lay the surprise. Live Colorfully opens with a burst of citrus and floral, with a touch of anise. The opening feels quite thin, far from my expectation of a syrupy sweetness. Despite the name and packaging, Live Colorfully is not very colorful. It morphs into a decent white floral, with gardenia accented by a light coconut that manages not to scream “suntan lotion”.

At this point I was intrigued and attempted to hunt down some perfume notes (listed below) and there are certainly a lot of them. Despite the impression that Live Colorfully has a lot going on, a lot of notes, a lot of creators, it is fairly simple at its heart and quite pretty, if a touch unbalanced. I detected a hint of narcissus, which appears to be the only flower not included in the fragrance, but the gardenia/tiare combination dominates.

The drydown has a very subtle combination of vanilla, amber and musk, which in my opinion could have been a little richer. While I don’t see myself running out to buy a bottle given the number of white florals I have in my collection, Live Colorfully is a pretty fragrance that is perfect for someone venturing into this genre.

For more details on what went into the making of the perfume, the WSJ had this article.

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White Floral

Notes: mandarin, pink water lily, star anise, tiare, gardenia, coconut water, amber, musk and tahitian vanilla