Fragrance Friday: Fragrances of Ireland

Fragrance Friday: Fragrances of Ireland

I have recently returned from a vacation in Northern Ireland and the Republic of Ireland — what beautiful places they are! I had visited Northern Ireland before and Dublin only for two days, but had not previously seen the rest of the Republic of Ireland although one of my grandmothers was born there. When my husband’s work took him back to Northern Ireland, I again went with him but this time, we took an extra week of vacation and used it to circumnavigate the Northern and West Coasts, then down to Cork and back up toward Dublin. We saw so many lovely places that I can’t wait to visit again. Of course, it helped that the weather in Ireland this summer was the sunniest summer they’ve had in years; while the lack of rain has caused problems in some areas, the dry, sunny days were a tourist’s dream.

I usually try to discover and bring home a few fragrances that are specific to whatever region I visit as a tourist. On our last trip to Ireland, I came home with Innisfreea light-hearted fruity floral scent that captures nicely the freshness of Irish gardens without being too sweet (side note: on this trip, we were able to visit the fabulous gardens of Mount Stewart and Powerscourt, which were magnificent). On this trip, I bought small sizes of other scents by the company “Fragrances of Ireland“, which created Innisfree as its first fragrance. The ones I bought were Inis, Inis Arose, and Connemara. I had tried Connemara before, in the airport on our last trip, and liked it then, but felt that as I hadn’t visited or seen Connemara yet, it was premature to bring home a souvenir named for it!

Inis (the Energy of the Sea) is a unisex cologne, an aromatic aquatic scent launched in 1998. Top notes are neroli, bergamot, sicilian lemon and sea notes; middle notes are lily-of-the-valley and geranium; base notes are nutmeg, sandalwood, musk, cloves and oakmoss. People who like ozonic, aquatic fragrances will likely enjoy this; it is pleasant without being particularly memorable, but it is a nice, light, fresh summer scent with a slight spiciness to go with its citrus and aquatic notes. I do not smell any oakmoss as it dries down. This is truly unisex; I can see it working for both men and women who want something light.

Inis Arose is a fresh floral. Fragrantica lists its notes as follows: “aromas of sunny Sicilian lemon, bergamot, geranium, lily of the valley and cyclamen. A heart includes pink May rose of Grasse, white rose, Damask rose absolute, with a trail of Turkish rose attar. Base notes give depth to this fragrance with accords of patchouli, sandalwood, Madagascar vanilla, incense, musk and Atlas cedar.” This one is a pretty, light, summery rose combined with other flowers. I like the way it has many of the same notes as Inis, introduced and combined in different ways, while also adding some new notes and subtracting others. Given my inclination toward florals, it will not surprise anyone to read that I prefer it to Inis. It is just a really nice, light rose. I’ve smelled better, and this one has some synthetic undertones, but it is a refreshing floral that I will enjoy! It doesn’t last for hours; it feels more like an eau de toilette than eau de parfum. I can’t detect many of the notes listed as its base notes, but it dries down to a pleasant, slightly musky, slightly woody skin scent. I don’t pick up any vanilla or incense. We saw many gorgeous roses in full bloom in Ireland, thanks to the hot, sunny weather and the tireless watering of devoted gardeners, so Inis Arose will bring back happy memories, including of the lovely Ballyduff House where we stayed briefly.

Connemara comes as an eau de toilette and is a green floral, as befits a scent named for one of the greenest areas of the Emerald Isle. Its top notes are freesia, lily of the valley, and violet; middle notes are rose, carnation, and mimosa; base notes are peach, sandalwood, orris, musk, and vanilla. Having now seen the spectacular  Connemara National Park, I can attest to the majesty and beauty of the Connemara Mountains. They are majestic. The fragrance is not majestic, but like its siblings, it is very pretty. The packaging itself evokes the Books of Kells and its intricate, colorful designs, but the website states that the scent was “inspired by the beauty and majesty of the Connemara countryside, which is home to some of the most breathtaking views of islands, oceans and mountains.”

Connemara Mountains, Ireland

Connemara Mountains; photo from http://www.galwaytourism.ie

To me, Connemara is more reminiscent of our visit to Powerscourt’s gardens. They too have a stunning view of mountains (the Wicklow Mountains) and are not far from the coast, but their atmosphere is far less wild than Connemara. Their beautiful Italian and perennial gardens contain the flowers listed among Connemara’s notes; there is even a walled orchard filled with fruiting trees like peach trees. (I was lucky enough to find one of the gardeners at work there and he was kind enough to answer some of my questions about the heirloom fruit varieties they grow). When I first apply Connemara, I get a very pleasing burst of freesia and its lemony sweetness. This persists nicely as the scent segues into rose, carnation, and mimosa. I can tell that the lily of the valley is lurking in the background, but it is not dominant. Rather, it lends a fresh greenness that brightens the other floral notes. The rose is definitely present, but it does not dominate either; it partners politely with the carnation, a note I like a lot, and the gentle mimosa.

Herbaceous borders at gardens of Powerscourt, Ireland

Herbaceous borders at Powerscourt; photo from http://www.powerscourt.com

I’m happy to own some of the Fragrances of Ireland line as souvenirs of a wonderful vacation to a beautiful country. I am truly eager to return to see more of Ireland and explore some of the areas we visited in more depth.

Perfume Tourism: Ireland

Perfume Tourism: Ireland

I have been AWOL for a while because of family travel, but I haven’t neglected to keep an eye out for interesting perfumes! I like to seek out fragrances that are specific to a region I am visiting. On this trip, I have discovered fragrances by The Burren Perfumery, a small-scale, artisan creator of cosmetics, skin care, and perfumes, located near the West Coast of Ireland. We drove along the edge of the area known as the Burren as we made our way from Galway to the Cliffs of Moher; it is a unique landscape and ecosystem where many rare plants grow. I’m excited to try some of The Burren Perfumery’s fragrances! Stay tuned …

Some Final Bottles Available — Perfume in Progress

The last several months I have contacted many people who had written to me in Jan/Feb to request bottles. I’ve filled about as many of those requests as I can with what I had in stock (minus a few people that I couldn’t reach via email). I’m now listing the few remaining bottles here. These bottles have […]

via Some Final Bottles Available — Perfume in Progress

If you always wanted some fragrances from Sonoma Scent Studio, this is your last chance! Award-winning perfumer Laurie Erickson is retiring from the perfume business and may have a buyer for Sonoma Scent Studio. She has a small number of bottles of her fragrance creations still available for purchase. I’m sad to see such a gifted artisan perfumer leave the scene but I am confident Laurie will flourish in her next phase.

Fragrance Friday: First Cut

Fragrance Friday: First Cut

Diane St. Clair is a dairy farmer and artisan maker of butter so good that she supplies it to the legendary French Laundry restaurant, among others. She is also now an artisan perfumer, having launched her first three scents earlier this year under the name St. Clair Scents. I’ve already written about Gardener’s Glove; today, I’ll take a look (or sniff!) at First Cut.

The name refers to the first mowing of a hayfield, in late summer. This is an important time at a dairy farm, as the mown hay will provide fodder for the cows during the winter. Here is the description of First Cut from St. Clair Scents’ website:

The hay harvest is the focus of every dairy farmer’s summer, keeping the fields regenerating and providing hay for the cows in winter.

The mowing and drying of native grasses, clovers, wild flowers, and legumes takes three days of sunshine and many hours of hard work.

This scent is of meadows, herbaceous and green, with wild flowers strewn throughout and splashed with radiant sunshine.

  • Top Notes: Bergamot, Yuzu, Rosemary, Basil, Tomato Leaf Absolute
  • Middle Notes: Lavender Absolute, Rose De Mai, Rose Geranium, Immortelle Absolute
  • Base Notes: Hay Absolute, Tobacco Absolute, Oakmoss, Vanilla Absolute

The opening is strong and appealing — so much so, that my husband suddenly asked, after I had dabbed some on my wrist, “What smells so good?” The bergamot and yuzu really pop. I don’t normally like yuzu in fragrance, but here it really works, as it is dominated by the bergamot I prefer, and accompanied by the herbal notes of rosemary, basil, and tomato leaf. I can’t really pick out the rosemary and basil separately, but all the top notes blend harmoniously into a bright, herbal announcement that something special has arrived.

Kafkaesque offers her usual in-depth, insightful analysis, noting that First Cut merges aspects of both a traditional “fougere” fragrance and a “chypre”. As fougere scents more traditionally appear in men’s fragrances, I’m not as familiar with them, so I’ll share some of what I have learned. Most notably, the classic fougere includes a strong presence of lavender combined with oakmoss and coumarin, the latter widely considered to evoke the scent of sweet hay. And no wonder, based on this information from Fragrantica:

Coumarin … is a synthesized material in most perfumes, but it’s also found in abundance in natural products, such as tonka beans (Dipteryx odorata) where it is the principle aromatic constituent (1-3%). In fact the name derives from “cumaru”, an Amazonian dialect name for the Tonka bean tree. But that’s not all: apart from tonka beans, coumarin also occurs naturally in “vanilla grass” (Anthoxanthum odoratum), sweet woodruff (Galium odoratum), sweet clover (Meliotus L.), sweet grass (Hierochloe odorata) and cassia cinnamon (Cinnamomum aromaticum) among other species.

First Cut is all about hay, and there among the base notes is “hay absolute”, so we see the relationship to a classic fougere, together with the traditional lavender, oakmoss, and tobacco notes. Unlike a traditional fougere, though, here the lavender is clearly present but not dominant, which I prefer.

In my review of St. Clair Scents’ Gardener’s Glove, I described the meadow that bordered my father’s vegetable garden, the garden that Gardener’s Glove evoked for me. First Cut evokes that meadow and the same sense of a French potager, an enclosed garden that includes vegetables, flowers, fruits, and herbs. This potager, however, is not in New England but in the South of France, with its classic Mediterranean notes of lavender, rosemary, basil, rose de Mai, and citruses. It is on a farm, bordered by hay meadows and lavender fields which figure as much in this fragrance as the kitchen garden.

Filed of lavender and hay meadow on French farm in Provence

Lavender field in Provence; image from https://birdshooter.smugmug.com/

One of the many interesting things about First Cut is that it dries down in a way that mimics the maturing of a hayfield! The initial phase is very fresh, herbal and green, especially with those green herbs and tomato leaf absolute, like the fresh greenness of early summer. The middle stage is more floral, but in the way that midsummer clover is “floral”, nothing like the Big White Flowers. I think it is the immortelle that starts making the fragrance feel drier, as the middle stage leads into a base of dry tobacco, dry hay, dry oakmoss (and vanilla, which adds the creaminess and sweetness that Kafkaesque noted, and balances the dry notes). I love this creative progression and how it summons up the months from early summer through the peak of summer, ending with the late summer hay harvest known as the “first cut.” Brilliant! Even the lingering sweetness in the base is reminiscent of late summer honey from bees that have gorged on meadow flowers. I wonder if Diane St. Clair keeps honeybees?

Wooden beehives in multi-colored wildflower meadow.

Beehives in wildflower meadow; image from http://www.apiplanet.lt.

I like First Cut very, very much — and if you are a man, or have a man in your life, who loves fougeres, try this!  So far, of the two St. Clair Scents I have really tested, my heart still belongs to Gardener’s Glove, but First Cut is beautiful, pleasing, and clever all at once. As the late great perfumer Guy Robert is said to have told many people:  “Un parfum doit avant tout sent bon (A perfume must above all smell good).” First Cut smells very, very good.

Samples kindly provided by St. Clair Scents; opinions are my own.

Fragrance Friday: Rose Royale

Fragrance Friday: Rose Royale

Just days ago, a book I have been eagerly awaiting (despite the controversy its authors love to stir) was finally published: “Perfumes: The Guide 2018”, by Luca Turin and Tania Sanchez. Of course, I’ve spent more time than I should browsing its characteristically snarky, idiosyncratic reviews — agreeing with some, disagreeing with others, but always informed and amused by their points of view. One thing I do like is that Turin and Sanchez are quite upfront about some of their individual tendencies and how those may affect their reviews. For instance, Turin doesn’t really like rose soliflores. And yet he gave four stars to Parfums Nicolai’s Rose Royale and listed it among the top ten florals of the last decade. Good enough for me, since I love rose soliflores and we’ve just finished June, the month of roses! Here is Parfums Nicolai‘s own description:

Real rose without any frills or fuss, fresh and vegetal thanks to its magnificent natural essences. With just a few strands of coriander as well as base notes of immortelle to give it punch without any distortion … simply the perfume of the rose at the end of its stem. A longing for nature becomes a scent of vegetation enhanced by blackcurrant and passion fruit, over an explosion of Turkish rose essence. Coriander and ambrette seeds enhance the fragrance. Bottom notes of guiac wood and immortelle strengthen the long lasting, lingering spell of Rose Royale.

After having visited the RHS Chelsea Flower Show this spring, I renewed my obsession with David Austin’s English Roses, which added to its medals with another spectacular display of his stunning flowers. If you don’t know of them, they are the result of Mr. Austin’s lifetime of hybridizing roses to restore the fragrances and forms of the older French roses he loves, combining them with the vigor, disease resistance, color range, and repeat flowering of more modern roses. Each entry for a rose in his catalogue lovingly  describes not only the growth habit, color, form and size of its blossoms, but also each variety’s individual fragrance. One such entry reads:

Munstead Wood: Light crimson buds gradually open to reveal very deep velvety crimson blooms, the outer petals remaining rather lighter in color. The flowers are large cups at first, becoming shallowly cupped with time. The growth is quite bushy, forming a broad shrub with good disease resistance. The leaves are mid-green, the younger leaves being red-bronze to form a nice contrast. There is a very strong Old Rose fragrance with a fruity note. Our fragrance expert, Robert Calkin, assesses this as “warm and fruity with blackberry, blueberry and damson.”

Munstead Wood was recommended to me by someone who used to work with David Austin, and so I am now growing it in a large pot on my front terrace, which faces south (much of my garden is shaded at least part of the day, which doesn’t suit roses). And Rose Royale smells a lot like it, with its top notes of blackcurrant buds, passion fruit, and bergamot moving quickly into the heart of rose, coriander, and ambrette seeds. I love it! Yes, Mr. Turin, I do love a good rose soliflore.

David Austin English Rose "Munstead Wood"

David Austin rose “Munstead Wood”; image from http://www.davidaustinroses.com

Rose Royale has a delectable opening, the blackcurrant buds dominating, followed by bergamot lending its green-citrus pop, with passion fruit hovering behind them and adding sweetness to the green. If I had to pick one genre of fragrances to love, it would have to include greenness (green florals, green aromatics, etc.), and Rose Royale fits the bill. After the lively opening, the rose takes center stage, but the fragrance never loses its “fresh and vegetal” character. Mr. Turin refers to it as a “soapy rose” but it doesn’t smell soapy to me, or at least no more so than a real rose often does. I suspect this is because rose notes have been so heavily used to scent soap that our Western noses merge the two. Be that as it may, here is his review of Rose Royale in “Perfumes: The Guide 2018” (Kindle Edition):

Tomes of perfumery prattle are churned out annually on the subject of the Her Royal Majesty the Rose, Queen of Flowers, and all associated romance and grandeur. Yet when you smell rose soliflores, they do tend to let you down: flat or thin, a whisper of phenylethyl alcohol or a mere goofy fruity fantasy. Patricia de Nicolaï’s take is a perfect soapy-aldehydic white-floral froth with facets of lemon and raspberry. If you are the sort of gold-rimmed-teacup gripping, pinky-finger sticker-outer who will insist against all advice upon a rose soliflore uninterfered with by complicating ideas, here is a beautifully silly one for you.

While I do own gold-rimmed teacups, I don’t stick out my pinky finger while drinking from them, and my hands are often too grubby from digging in my garden’s dirt to grip them very regularly.

Royal Crown Derby Imari pattern tea set with white roses, from TeaTime Magazine

Royal Crown Derby Imari; image from http://www.teatimemagazine.com

Like the rose Munstead Wood, which has some of the sharper thorns I’ve encountered among roses I’ve grown, Rose Royale has a little more bite to it than is immediately apparent. As it dries down, there is enough light wood and spice to suggest that there is more to this rose than its soft petals. I would agree with Mr. Turin’s overall assessment, though, that Rose Royale evokes a certain elegance and delicacy one might associate with gold-rimmed teacups. Patricia de Nicolai clearly intended this, as her company’s website describes the fragrance as inspired and named for “a stroll in the calm of the Palais Royal, with a French garden framed by perfect classical architecture.” It has been far too many years since I myself visited Paris and strolled through the Palais Royal, but Rose Royale takes me there with one sniff.

 

Fragrance Friday: St. Clair Scents’ Gardener’s Glove

Fragrance Friday: St. Clair Scents’ Gardener’s Glove

By now, regular readers know that I am a committed gardener as well as a lover of fragrance. One probably led to the other, as I favor scents with green, floral, or woody notes. I’ve had to educate myself about genres like gourmands, and they’re still not at the top of my list although I now know more of them. So many of my earliest memories involve the gardens of the houses where my family has lived, and the surrounding New England woods where my sisters and I played for hours. There were the small wildflower garden by the stream that ran through the back yard of the house where I spent my first seven years of life, and the bulbs my parents planted, and my father’s large vegetable garden. A large patch of lilies of the valley spread in the shade against one side of that first house. My American grandparents’ house had a small garden crammed with azaleas and dogwoods, and they owned a nearby plot that was my grandfather’s extensive vegetable garden, which provided bushels of food for them and others during the Great Depression. My grandmother was something of a “grande dame” of the local garden club and prided herself on her flower arranging, so there was also a cutting garden for the flowers she loved.

Later in my own childhood, at another house, there was a wide meadow between our house and that of the famous architect who sold my parents several acres of his woodland on which to build. There, my father’s vegetable gardening became more ambitious, as he fenced about 100 square feet against the predations of deer and woodchucks. I was his reluctant helpmeet in the vegetable patch, the obedient middle child who didn’t vanish when he headed outside, or who could be easily found reading a book in a tree (aka, “doing nothing”). So I learned to weed, pick beans that were ready, take up ripe tomatoes before the squirrels got them, pick raspberries without my hands getting shredded by thorns, and cut the gladioli my dad loved to plant along the edges of his beds when their buds were half open, so they could finish unfurling their parasols of bright colors indoors, in one of my mother’s vases. One year, I even had a little corner of my own in that garden, to grow herbs, after I became entranced with the idea from reading the books of Elizabeth Goudge, especially The White Witch.  The main character is an herbalist and healer, and the book has many descriptions of various herbs, their uses, and their fragrance. I took my blogger name and the name of my gardening blog from another book that inspired my love of gardening when I was a child: Old Herbaceous.

Illustration of vegetable garden

Vegetable garden; image from http://www.sitez.co

The meadow itself was full of native wildflowers like butterfly weed, which my father nurtured with a passion. Past the enclosed vegetable garden, a single pathway through the meadow was kept mowed, and it was the shortcut to the woods for us and other children, as well as the deer who gazed longingly through the enclosure at my father’s lettuces and other green delicacies. The rest of the meadow was mowed once a year, and only after the wildflowers’ seeds had ripened. This late summer mowing, which removes competing tree saplings and also helps spread the seeds, is also known in England as “the hay cut.” It was essential for a meadow like this, as the surrounding woods, including the native northern white cedar, did their best to encroach stealthily and steadily within its bounds.

Wildflower meadow with butterfly weed in Connecticut

Wildflower meadow with butterfly weed; image from www.vimeo.com

Gardener’s Glove evokes all of these memories, starting with its top note of tomato leaf absolute, a favorite of mine. As Diane St. Clair’s website for St. Clair Scents observes:

If you work amidst the thorn and bramble, you know that the gardener’s glove is a soft, pliable leather, worn down from work, in all the right places.

The scent carries the background fragrance of the glove—tanned, aged leather, woods and soil—along with the ambrosial elements of the garden—sumptuous jasmines, roses, green blossoms and ripe fruit.

Gardeners Glove artisanal fragrance by St. Clair Scents

Gardeners Glove, from St. Clair Scents; image from http://www.stclairscents.com

If you haven’t yet discovered St. Clair Scents, you are in for a treat. The scents are a small group (three, to date) of handcrafted artisanal fragrances made by Diane, who is a premier artisan of dairy products at her farm in Vermont. Diane became intrigued with perfume and embarked on a course of study with her mentor Eliza Douglas. These three fragrances are the result. Diane was kind enough to exchange a few emails with me, in which she said:

I am really trying to position myself as someone producing perfumes with the aroma and feel of nature, a sense (scents) of place, if you will, since I am lucky enough to live and work on a farm. I also try to give my scents a vintage feel, from the days when naturals made up the bulk of perfume formulas, rather than synthetics.

On the St. Clair Scents website, Diane writes:

As I have done in making artisanal, farmstead food, I am interested in creating scent in a similar fashion: producing it with an individual vision and in small batches using fine ingredients. My perfumes are bottled by hand, each one a work of art on its own.

And Gardener’s Glove is indeed a work of art. It opens with a bright, sunny, green burst of citrus (including bergamot, which smells green to me), tomato leaf, and galbanum. It smells like the sun on a vegetable garden, verdant with tomato plants and herbs. As it evolves, the floral notes emerge — linden, rose, lily, jasmine — but also more greenery, in the form of blackcurrant bud, and fruit via apricot. So this vegetable garden, like my father’s, includes flowers; it also has some flowering fruit trees, bushes, and vines, like a true French “potager”. If you’ve ever smelled a fresh, ripe apricot, warmed by the sun and just plucked, you will recognize the note, as light as it is here. A hint of roses in sunlight, a waft of jasmine, perhaps twining its way up a fence or a post, a breath of lilies, round out the heart. Those floral notes together with the linden also leave a strong impression of sweet honeysuckle.

The greenness continues into the drydown, with vetiver, patchouli, and fir needle, now mixing with the warmth lent by saffron and amber notes, but on my skin the dominant theme of the base is the soft, fragrant leather of a well-worn gardener’s glove. If you garden, you know that there is that one favorite pair of gloves, often leather or part leather, that just fits right, has worn well, is sturdy enough for any job. Such gloves often pick up the various scents of the garden: pruned clippings of green leaves and grass, juice from harvested fruits, fragrant blossoms trimmed from their stems and gathered for the house, sap  and resin from shrubs and tree branches, dark, fertile earth, well-aged compost; and those scents mingle with the softened leather of one’s favorite gloves.

Part leather garden gloves used to prune roses

Garden gloves; photo from http://www.nocry.com

That is what Gardener’s Glove smells like — heaven! Some of my favorite fragrance blogs have reviewed Gardener’s Glove very favorably. I especially liked this comment by Sam at “I Scent You A Day”:

Gardener’s Glove takes you on a tour of a garden: a true gardener’s garden, earth, twigs, leaves and all. It’s a wonderfully clever fragrance that reveals itself leaf by leaf.

Sam also pointed out that the fragrance contains “everything sappy, sharp and green that you can find in the garden”. Yes! Yes it does! And I love it. Kafkaesque, whom Diane consulted in the last stages of the scent’s development, offers her usual detailed description, and I agree with almost all of it, except that I don’t get the medicinal note that bothered her. Jessica, at “Now Smell This”, called Gardener’s Glove “a leathery floral, with a leather that’s soft and smooth rather than animalic or dirtied-up”, while acknowledging the earthiness brought by notes like vetiver and castoreum. Robert Hermann wrote, at “CaFleureBon”, that Gardener’s Glove “is a flat out masterpiece of a fragrance; a perfect marriage of the best of vintage perfumes shot through with a modern sensibility.”

I have to agree. I don’t think I’m qualified to say what fragrance is or isn’t a masterpiece, but Gardener’s Glove is wonderful, and a worthy companion to my beloved Dryad, with which it shares a number of notes, by another artisanal perfumer, Liz Moores of Papillon Artisan Perfumes. If Dryad is the wild woodland sprite, Gardener’s Glove is her more domesticated neighbor in the meadow adjoining the woods. I love them both.

Samples kindly provided by St. Clair Scents; views expressed are my own.

May Muguet Marathon: Muguet Fleuri (again)

May Muguet Marathon: Muguet Fleuri (again)

Today’s lily of the valley fragrance is Oriza Legrand’s Muguet Fleuri. A very beautiful scent, it is more than a muguet soliflore. It has a classic structure anchored by a base note of oakmoss. Top notes are, yes, lily of the valley, grass, and green notes (although the Oriza Legrand website lists them more eccentrically as “feuillages vertes, herbes folles, muguet sauvage”). Middle, or heart, notes are lily of the valley (here listed by Oriza LeGrand as “muguet des bois”), violet leaf, angelica and galbanum. Base notes are lily of the valley blossoms (“clochettes de muguet frais”), oakmoss, and wild lily (“lys des pres”, or “lily of the field/meadow”). I reviewed Muguet Fleuri two years ago, in my first “May Muguet Marathon”, but that was based on a sample. A question I posed at the end of the post was whether I should spring for a full bottle. Reader, I did. So here’s a new review.

Instead of true citrus at the top of Muguet Fleuri, we get a burst of lemony fresh greenness that is the first impression, quickly followed by the lily of the valley, which is strong. The heart notes that include violet leaf, angelica and galbanum with the “muguet des bois” send Muguet Fleuri in a different direction than a straightforward floral. All of these heart note companions to the muguet are intensely green. The galbanum gives it a little “bite” as it dries down, a bit of an edge. The angelica brings in an herbal tone. The violet leaf is meant to be somewhat metallic and aqueous, though I’m not sure I would describe it that way, but it is definitely more of a crunchy green than a soft one. Violet leaf appears in many men’s fragrances, so on balance, this phase of the fragrance is where it becomes less feminine and more unisex to my nose, suitable for either a man or a woman. I think this is why Fragrantica categorizes Muguet Fleuri as an “aromatic floral.”

Kafkaesque wrote a very thorough review of Muguet Fleuri. She found violet flowers peeping between the green leaves, but I did not. In the heart phase, the only real flower I smell is the lily of the valley, surrounded by shades of green; it is very true to the actual flower, as I’ve written before. Because of the continuous presence of that lily of the valley, the fragrance doesn’t develop and evolve as much as other high-quality fragrances, but it lasts well, and the base notes are intriguing. The oakmoss seems to anchor the muguet flowers in the earth, with the green leaves and stems sturdily supporting the ethereal white blossoms that look like tiny bells (“clochettes”).

lilies of the valley planted in moss

Kafkaesque found the final stage slightly woody: “Muguet Fleuri’s drydown on my skin really feels like a bouquet of lily of the valley, cedar, violet leaves, and violets, even though the latter is now a mere impression more than a distinctive, powerful, individual note. The whole thing is dusted with floral powder that feels sandier than ever, and a light touch of very expensive floral soap.” The Smelly Vagabond also had a very positive review, and an insightful comparison to the classic muguet scent, Diorissimo.

Oriza Legrand deliberately presents its fragrances in old-fashioned design and presentation, to emphasize its history and heritage. Muguet Fleuri is listed among its “Art Deco” Collection; to me, its design elements are reminiscent of the flower illustrations of Cicely Mary Barker, creator of the Flower Fairies in her series of children’s books.

Muguet Fleuri box and bottle

Oriza Legrand Muguet Fleuri; image from http://www.notino.co.uk

Taken together, Muguet Fleuri is a happy, uncomplicated fragrance that is sturdier than it might appear at first impression. I like the opening burst of green, the persistence of various forms of muguet throughout, the well-chosen companion notes, and the oakmoss base. This is a thinking woman’s muguet, but it is far from introverted. It has a warmth to it, after the dewy green opening and herbal green heart, that grounds it and makes it a grown-up muguet. It also comes with a pretty card, imprinted with the same images, and the following cheerful message:

“Que ces quelques brins de Muguet Fleuri vous portent bonheur!” or “May these few sprigs of Lily of the Valley bring you happiness!”. They did.

Featured image by Cicely Mary Barker.