Enjoy the video, and as always, the stupidly unflattering screenshot it decides to use as a title frame – thanks YouTube! x
Enjoy the video, and as always, the stupidly unflattering screenshot it decides to use as a title frame – thanks YouTube! x
I first tried Le Parfum de Therese ever so briefly at Tauer’s house in Zurich, he owned a small bottle and on first sniff, I admittedly dismissed it, far too keen to try more of his work and new releases at the time (Noontide Petals…). I tried it again ever so quickly on paper after a sales assistant gave me a quick sniff and again, at the time I was more drawn to Dans Tes Bras which I later purchased for my mum, and Une Rose which I initially loved (and still do). However, I went to London yesterday in the hope to buy something new, unaware that I would leave the shop with this one. I tried all the Malle’s again, well, the ones I have previously loved: Une Rose, Une Fleur De Cassie, even Musc Ravageur (which 20th time round got a bit unappealing)… and then Le Parfum de Therese…
The magic hit me straight away and I was struck with a kind of… melancholy joy… you know? It was gorgeous. Having let it sit on my skin for just an hour or so as I explored the nearby shops, I went back to Liberty and bought a 50ml bottle… I’m not always that spontaneous.
Although I have only owned this for all of 2 days now, I have worn it day and night – it’s unbearably beautiful.
Only after my purchase did I read the little love story that goes with this fragrance. En bref: Edmond Roudnitska created this hyper modern (at the time) fragrance in the 50′s for his wife Therese and she wore it solely ever since as her signature. When Roudnitska passed away in 1996, Frederic Malle approached her afterwards and asked for the unique perfume to be included in his line of fragrances. She agreed to share it with the world. It is a perfume made with absolute love – and with this image, is undoubtedly one of the most romantic fragrances I’ve smelt.
Le Parfum De Therese opens with bitter, juicy tangerine, spiked with a touch of pepper and a hint of clove. There’s a culinary greenery underneath, but the fragrance doesn’t smell “cologne-y”, or even particularly fresh. It’s muted, a soft layer from the start that whilst almost mouthwatering, is inedible, and quickly ozonic. Now, the ozonic accords in the opening seem to stem from a melon note. The melon smells of melon… not water scented with melon, not an aquatic calone overload… just melon. Is it watery? Well of course… melon is. But it’s a “just-sweet” juice, the tiniest bit lactonic, but blended with the tangerine, subtle spice and green to create something that smells utterly seamless on the skin.
More fruit joins in, but again, nothing high-pitched and thankfully nothing too dry. A plum note warms up Le Parfum De Therese – working beautifully with the spices – the melon giving the fragrance a texture which takes it away from any possible association with the plum-y, spicey overloads of Arabie and Aziyade for example – this is nothing like that at all. The plum smells like skin, like a replacement for cumin, or leather. It has the same feel as the apricot in Daim Blond by Serge Lutens (which doesn’t work for me at all). It has a density to it but a light scent, intermingling with the opening fruits to make the transition to the heart one of the most languid, luxuriously smooth journeys I’ve encountered.
The florals? They do show up I promise you… at first I get a clean rose. Lacking any geranium-like freshness (but spiced with the pepper from the opening), it sits in a plush layer like a rose pillow (the only way I can describe it!). Jasmine shows up shortly after and dominates the floral arrangement… it’s a touch indolic, but restrained – smooth and refined by the aquatic fruits (a combination which should on paper, make me nauteous, but no). The jasmine is delicately handled, a touch honeyed, and lightly spiced (I keep saying spiced, but Le Parfum de Therese is not spicy… excuse my bad choice of language!). I also get subtle wafts of carnation and the merest hint of lily. But all in all, Le Parfum de Therese is a jasmine/rose.
At this point, Le Parfum De Therese smells refined, restrained, with a depth and weight to it which clings to the skin. The base gets drier as it goes on, a hint of suede, dry woods and earth (the vetiver/earth accord mixed with the remaining carnation reminding me of the very depths of Iris Silver Mist without the iris and metallic notes…). More comparisons? I’m not sure… many people compare this to other Edmond Roudnitska fragrances, mainly classic Dior’s… my lack of experience with them means that I can’t comment on that… but to me, Le Parfum De Therese smells possibly like the fragrance that could have inspired Aftelier’s Wild Roses. It has the same fruity/rose combo used with a similar texture, and hints of spice and earth. This is the closest thing I could compare it to.
Anyway… I could go on and on about this, pulling it apart more and more, trying to both come to terms with it, and express it as accurately as possible. Describing it in such depth just destroys it though, as on paper it seems to read like something it isn’t. Expect nothing and forget everything before trying it. But for me: it is an absolute treasure.
Le Parfum de Therese 50ml EDP Frederic Malle – 125 Euros www.fredericmalle.com
Lipstick Rose opens with an aldehydic powder of violet and rose, a touch of citrus sparkles up top, and for a short while, the powdered rose reminds me of Traversee Du Bosphore by L’Artisan Parfumeur – almost note for note. The balance begins to shift though, and a thick, waxy texture mingles with the powder to take Lipstick Rose off on a different tangent.
The rose note smells clean, old-fashioned without being particularly soapy – with accords of Turkish delight, spicy potpourri, a tea-like bitterness and just a touch of raspberry- but from afar, it is just… a very traditional rose. The waxy texture makes me suspect there’s maybe a little magnolia in here, given away also by the hint of sweet, lemon-y, floral cream that runs in between the rose and violet. The violet/iris/heliotrope in the heart is what seems to combine to create the “make-up” accord that dominates the heart. This accord smells similar to the Guerlain Meteorites fragrance which matches their scented makeup, a slightly melancholy, simplified version of L’Heure Bleue. But Lipstick Rose, whilst beautifully pristine, is playful – and a joy to wear.
The base surprises me a bit with a subtle, salty, earthy vetiver sweetened with a touch of vanilla. The vetiver anchors the light-hearted powder and matures the fragrance as it dries down, made a little herbal by a bay-like culinary note. The vanilla does what you’d expect it to do, and a musk throws Lipstick Rose off the skin for a good couple of hours, a light, laundry-esque fuzz that smells satin-soft and feminine. There’s a little resinous amber underneath, very light, powder-filled (again) – a little warmth to make the synthetic association with makeup a tad more “human”.
Lipstick Rose is pretty straightforward from here on, a drydown mingling the “lipstick” floral accord with a sweet musk and green-tinged amber. It is a simplistic but charming composition that I’d love to have a small bottle of, but I have Putain Des Palaces to do a similar job for me
Lipstick Rose 50ml EDP Frederic Malle - £100 Les Senteurs
Mint, geranium, clove, rose – it all comes racing out in the opening of Portrait Of A Lady. A vegetal greenery quickly gives way to a potpourri style dusty rose and a huge incense. It’s extravagant and opulent, constantly morphing on my skin with each note desperately trying to lead.
A medicinal oud sits quietly underneath but for some reason my nose runs straight to it – and for a second, the clove/vegetal/oud combination reminds me of a much more floral, and wearable version of Shiso by Aftelier. This association disappears quickly though as Portrait Of A Lady continues to find a comfortable arrangement to settle in.
The rose/geranium duo dominate, the geranium constantly providing an unexpectedly masculine, herbal edge to the rose. Little specks of sour berries come to the surface that I mistake simply for the geranium, but their tart, red colour are unmistakable. The berries however are not strong enough to stay around for long.
As the geranium settles a touch, the rose reminds me a little of the drydown of Une Rose, heavily fragrant and bone dry. Some culinary spices of bay, clove, cinnamon, pepper – add texture and heat to contrast with the cooling effect of the herbal notes atop the rose.
A patchouli creeps in underneath the incense, going unnoticed for a little while until it all falls into place that Portrait Of A Lady is going to lead to a rose/patchouli drydown – I’d say predictable, but that would be unfair – it’s incense and herbal inclusions took me down an unexpected little route for a second.
As it finally settles into it’s relatively linear drydown - I unfortunately grow a bit tired of it :( Not because it’s loud or cloying or whatever, it is none of that. Instead it falls flat on my skin – not completely, I still get the tickle of pepper like it’s just been sprayed (the incense?), and a bit of dust from the rose flying off my skin in a high pitch. What I don’t like however is the cedar/amber/musky drydown - maybe it’s because this tiring accord has been so desperately overused these last few years and now that I’ve finally got around to this review I’m tired of it. Whatever it is – I find it almost a let down to what came before, and have always wondered what it was in this drydown that annoyed me… well, after a few good wearings I discovered this was it (ambroxan? norlimbanol?). It dehydrates the rose and the cool herbal accords so quickly that I feel like I need to crack out a chapstick just to get through the drydown.
Now, I’m not saying it isn’t nice – it’s still a harmonious balance of gorgeous, classical notes – the rose, patchouli and incense still leading. The oud and culinary spices give a traditional Arabic undercurrent without smelling soiled or overly intense – a beautiful oriental inclusion. But this annoying woody/amber grinds on me, in a synthetic translucency that feels like a complete waste of space. The clean musk further bulks out the base, making it throw itself off my skin in a laundry-esque fuzz. A subtle, sweet vanilla/wood underneath turns my frown upside-down for a few minutes, before the aromachemical overload comes in and fingerbangs my nostrils into submission.
I give in – you were never for me Portrait Of A Lady, but I know on the right person you smell absolutely beautiful.
Portrait Of A Lady 50ml Frederic Malle – £135 http://shop.lessenteurs.com
An aldehydic blast opens Une Fleur De Cassie which is quickly followed by an intense, yet de-sweetened mimosa. I LOVE mimosa – it’s powdery, pollen-heavy, with a slight almond-y kind of smell, it’s gorgeous. Here, the mimosa takes on a “papery” texture which I really like – normally iris is to blame for this so I guess there is a little hint of it here?
The floral heart which leads Une Fleur De Cassie is a slightly rotted (just-turned) bouquet of mimosa, carnation (with the clove accords perfectly tuned down), a clean rose, a hint of jasmine and a smidge of “meaty” lily… it’s really, really nice. So I described it as “slightly rotted” – similarly to the indole in Sarrasins, indole here is thrown in with good measure, but thankfully the sheer amount of other floral accords going on in the heart interweave the fecal smell harmoniously and comfortably – making the bouquet a little dated and musty smelling – perfect.
A subtle cumin seems to be in there too adding a real warmth and density, making the florals a little more “human” and to me at least, interesting.
The mimosa still dominates for me, joining a heliotrope (and violet?) to increase the powdery, almond quality to the florals - this seems to even overwhelm the carnation and jasmine which is quite a feat! What I love, is that similar to how Jarling paired these notes with a medicinal undercurrent, Une Fleur De Cassie pairs these appealing almost edible florals with a bitter vegetal smell underneath. Whether this is the “cassie” or not, I don’t know – but the indole plays a bit part in this vegetal accord. Maybe it’s hyacinth? It has that real “swampy” smell to it, without the normal piercing pitch of hyacinth, like in my recent love Indigo. There also seems to be a slightly soiled, fruity note – which reminds me of the apricot/rose pairing of Aftelier’s recent Wild Roses. It has that kind of soft, furry apricot/peach scent that you often find paired with leather (Bottega Veneta, Daim Blond…) It’s confusing… whatever makes up this accord is very clever: a harmonious balance of a huge bouquet of floral notes to create a heart that is practically perfect.
Vanilla, sandalwood, indole and a touch of musk secure the base. The vanilla has a “low bass” kind of smell, if that makes sense – a similar vanilla to that in Musc Ravageur, there’s no high pitch sweetness and instead it is a mere hum on the floor of the fragrance.
Une Fleur De Cassie is surprisingly subtle on my skin – but with a perfect sillage and very easy to wear. Although too expensive, I’d love it as an everyday fragrance and will be sure to get a bottle of it soon. It reminds me of a more grown-up, refined Charogne by Etat Libre D’Orange which also plays on the rotted, indole heavy bouquet idea, only paired with a childish (but fun) bubblegum note that dominates throughout. Une Fleur De Cassie however is real, gorgeous, classic perfumery – excellent.
Une Fleur De Cassie 50ml EDP Frederic Malle – £110 http://shop.lessenteurs.com
En Passant is a lilac – instantly a sweet, almost violet tinged lilac: delicately aquatic and pollen heavy. It’s a true to life representation of a bush of flowers, just a subtle tinge of greenery and a light but heady aroma. I love the literal “pollen” notes, its texture is damp and dewy and it’s emotion completely innocent and joyful – I really like it!
The thing that concerns me about En Passant is that at times I think it merely smells like a good body wash or a hand soap – only when I stop and think about what I’m sniffing do I find it interesting. This becomes more apparent as a cucumber aquatic note and a hint of melon come in, drenching the lilacs in a densely synthetic blob with a slight sunscreen vibe. I hunt for the infamous “wheat” notes, and whilst I do get it, I find it to be almost a mirage, easy to go unnoticed.
The lilac accord seems to be a combination of lilac, rose and lily, with maybe a very subtle orange blossom too? It sounds like a bouquet but it’s blended into a pretty blunt soliflore – and whilst I really like the outcome, it’s partnering notes unfortunately make it a little too simplistic to keep me keen.
The aquatic overload does settle down thankfully – but still: the minimalistic combination, the delicate quality of the almost laundry-esque lilac accord and the awkward calone style “filler”, keeps En Passant uncomfortably balancing on the line of “very lovely” and “smells like hand wash”.
I have a little 10ml bottle of this and I will never need more – at times it does exactly what I want: practically not exist or project on my skin so that I can enjoy wearing perfume without really having to smell it – a very very rare occasion but one that pops up once in a blue moon.
A very lovely, naturally heady aroma of a lilac bush meets a loud fabric softener… an unusual combination of lilac, wheat and cucumber meets a slightly soapy, synthetic creamy scent almost unidentifiably “floral”… the pros balance out the cons so I shall define it as “nice”.
En Passant 50ml Frederic Malle – £90 http://www.liberty.co.uk
This post is going to be longgggggggggggggggggggggggg…….
Ok so back to London (to attend the L’Artisan launch for Seville A L’Aube with Bertrand Duchaufour and Denyse Beaulieu – but there’s enough posts about that), and to have a shop! So here I am, armed with my lame-ass note book, my nose, and a wad of cash!! After my great success’ last time – leaving with the gorgeous Lonestar Memories and the repulsively addictive Musc Maori, I had high hopes!
So on arrival, I had about an hour to kill before it was off to L’Artisan in Covent Garden, so I made my way to Oxford Street and figured I’d hit Liberty’s – there were a few things I wanted to try (and were on my “I know I want this but I haven’t tried it yet” list).
Passing Byredo, I couldn’t help but have another quick sniff of Pulp. I put a bit on my hand this time, and didn’t realise that it was actually a fig fragrance – I hadn’t got that at all the last time I tried it on paper. But still, there it was, paired with the plump fig the hideously synthetic scent of berries and shower gel. Not the summer fruity fragrance I would like
Seven Veils smelt very interesting out of the lid… on my hand, oh my god the horror – words cannot describe. Haha, ok so it wounds overdramatic, but Seven Veils is without a doubt the worse fragrance I have ever had on my skin (don’t take it personally, this is only my opinion). A floral, clove spiced vanilla (in the same sort of veil as Musc Ravageur only far more intense), but the vanilla just turned absolutely rancid on me – in the same way that Mona Di Orio’s Vanille turns to egg on me, it was a very similar but worse reaction. I mistook the vanilla for myrrh initially – that rancid breath quality that it so oftens morphs into. After I smelt this, I had very bad experiences with vanilla for the rest of the day. I worked my way through a pack of wet wipes getting this hell beast off my skin before it burnt through to the bone! Hahaha.
Over to Parfum D’Empire (just becuase they’re such good value and such great fragrances), I sniffed Azemour Les Oranges again, I do love the bitter green but mouthwateringly juicy opening – but I had tried it before, and the thought of purchasing it there and then just wasn’t exciting enough for me!
Iskander had a great sour start, but the dirtiness of the grapefruit paired with the pungent oakmoss, turned it into a sweaty-cologne scent that I really didn’t enjoy. I really need to fall in love with a masculine citrus – but it’s hard work!
Heading back to more my sort of thing, I picked up 3 Fleurs which I hadn’t sniffed but read mixed reviews about. It sounds right up my alley on paper as a classical floral, but unfortunately, the beautifully indolic jasmine and sweet creamy tuberose, just didn’t work with the classical rose that wedged awkwardly in between them. The fragrance felt completely unbalanced (and overhwelming) for me, with a dated style that wasn’t the powerhouse of a floral bouquet that I had hoped for!
I made my way over to the fragrances I really wanted to try: Ineke.
The idea of a lilac soliflore really appealed to me (for some reason) – I think it was after sniffing En Passant and really enjoying it’s delicate shade. Unfortunately, the beautifully named After My Own Heart was a very faint, very soapy lilac that had little personality unlike the dewy freshness and slight melancholy of En Passant. I felt extremely uncomfortable in it for the few moments that it lasted.
Insistant on owning one of the absolutely beautiful bottles, I picked up the gorgeous looking Field Notes From Paris.
An unusual take on an orange blossom – but an unpleasant one for me. The narcotics were turned down, and instead the bitter medicinal aspects of orange blossom were enhanced by deep (but somehow flat) notes of tobacco and patchouli, all sitting underneath a bright citrus and cologne like opening. For some reason, I really disliked it – it seemed to amplify the ugly aspects of all the notes I normally enjoy, it didn’t work in harmony for me I will give it another shot some time though… dear god I need that bottle!
Evening Edged In Gold is another fragrance I tried by Ineke, it was actually the one I enjoyed the most, but not memorable enough for me to even remember what it smelt like (I didn’t take notes of it). I was really disappointed as I was certain I was walking out with an Ineke for my collection!
Anyway – off to the L’Artisan launch to come back to Liberty’s later – I hadn’t finished here just yet!
I purposely didn’t try Seville A L’Aube after reading the book until the launch as I wanted to sniff it for the first time when I was there – just to spice things up a little for myself :’)
Seville A L’Aube opens with a wonderful, sharp resinous lavender and the rich orange blossom, threaded through the top with a lighter touch than I expected. I enjoyed this part, it’s bright, sunshine filled with the tang of lavender adding an unexpected, very slightly masculine edge. I was sure there was a touch of rose in there too, the tiniest soapy edge (but from another floral other than the orange blossom) seemed to peep up.
Unfortunately (unliked other attendees who tried the fragrance on skin), the beeswax/incense combination came out on my skin too quickly, pushing aside the lovely orange blossom all to quick to reveal a quiet, waxy almost myrrh like scent on my skin. Unusual, enjoyable, but not for me
So, after a mingle and a chat with the lovely Denyse and brief, awkward, star-struck talk with Bertrand (oh and I introduced myself to the smiley Katie Puckrik - which whether she was freaked out by my big stretched ears or not, turned out to be even more short awkward than the chat with Bertrand… but there we go)…
Back to the sanity of Liberty’s where the sales staff always assist other customers assuming I won’t spend a penny -
I walk past the Frederic Malle stand – where the handsome French sales assistant greeted me wearily at first – I do look clueless – until I said “Mmmmm heliotrope” when he handed me a card with L’eau d’Hiver on it. It was the first time I’d tried, or even heard about this fragrance (I’m new to the full Malle line up). Although it was a lovely heliotrope with a powdery almond and slight anis spice – definitely my sort of thing – it was farrrr to delicate for me.
I told him what I had tried, and he started throwing more cards under my nose:
Geranium Pour Monsieur had a surprisingly good peppermint note and the geranium was unlike the watery green rose note that I am familiar with, instead it was green, slightly citric and peppery – really good, but not my sort of fragrance. I’ll be sure to revisit it though.
Angeliques Sous La Pluie was a peppery watery thing that was completely forgettable.
I also sniffed some things that I am already familiar with (yet again) Portrait Of A Lady, Bigarade Concentree, Une Fleur De Cassie etc etc. All lovely (and unaffordable at this moment in time) :’) None out do my love of Dans Tes Bras however.
I had another little wander round, sniffing Odeur 71 again amongst other Comme Des Garcons’. I decided that there was nothing else I really wanted to sniff here, and after my disappointment with the fragrances I hoped to love, I was sick of Liberty!
On to Ormonde Jayne…
A larger than life blast of pure, crisp rose (expectedly) opens Une Rose. It’s clean, crystal clear, and classically presented. This opening is the definition of a perfect soliflore - the rose’s complicated angles are all on full display: A traditional rose soap, a raspberry jam quality, a bright citrus freshness, a rich floral spice, a lightly fungal earthiness, and a languid translucency of floral waters. It’s all there, in a harmonious balance that evens Une Rose out into a singular accord.
The thing I find fascinating about this opening – is that it literally smells like its name ”A rose” – it is a single rose, inhaled from a distance close enough for the petals to be spread around your nose. The scent of a bouquet of roses often captured in fragrances is more subdued, it is sniffed from afar, diluting it’s textures and it’s more ugly edges into something smoother and more delicate – even flat at times. Here the rose is completely up close and 3 dimensional, you can see into every corner of every petal and sniff out it’s more hidden elements.
So paired with the rose, is the green rose twang of geranium – probably contributed to the fresh citrus accords up-top. The geranium is blended to a point where it becomes part of the rose rather than a separate ingredient – the rose is the leading player start to finish.
An ever-so-slightly soiled honey comes forward, enhancing a little sweetness of the rose amongst the delicately bitter greenery. It’s a clever contribution, bringing forward a sweetness in Une Rose that is far more natural smelling than any other amber/vanilla/benzoin sweetener.
The unfortunate thing for me in the heart is that the rose begins to become lightly powdered, and therefore a little more “perfumey” – it starts with such fresh dew on the skin that it almost feels damp, the genuine scent of a rose after the rain (really lovely). It takes on a slight stuffiness at this point, where the rose begins to grow stronger, and seems to age with a “pot pourri” style dry, decay. Whilst it still smells like the same beautiful rose, it has really began to dry, gathering a little unwelcome dust.
The fruity facets of raspberry jam at the begin which impart a (very light) delicious syrup into Une Rose’s opening, age and mature into a slightly boozy note, with a stale wine aroma. It’s a really nice accord – but makes the already stuffy illusion of pot pourri a little more cloying than necessary – further folding the freshness of the opening into a heavily perfumed cloud of dust and honeyed pollen.
When I first tried this on paper I picked up an earthy fungal note of mushrooms (which obviously I was head-over-heels for), however this doesn’t seem to make an appearance on the skin for many hours, and even then it is far more subtle than I initially perceived it.
The earthy notes do push forward as the rose continues to age, not with a fresh green snap of stems and leaves, but instead the delicate scent of earth (which has now completely dried out), and yes, a tiny smidge of vegetal fungus.
In the late drydown (although I pick it up very lightly after an hour or so), I got a sharp dose of cedar wood to support the base. It compliments the multi-faced rose of Une Rose by taking it away from a more predictable musk/sandalwood territory into a wood with a much more abrasive scented texture. It holds a roughness that keeps Une Rose strong and powerful – it never succumbs to something delicate and predictable, blasting of your skin for hours on end.
Une Rose is a strong player in the Frederic Malle line, and amongst the other great roses in the house’s collection, it still holds its own unique identity as the most classical, and maybe even the most wearable in the highly praised rose trio (Une Rose, Lipstick Rose, Portrait Of A Lady).
On first sniff, I adored this fragrance – I instantly said “This is the best thing I’ve smelt in a long time” – after a true wearing I can’t stand by that statement as for me, the heart loses its way a little bit. That isn’t to say the heart is poor, it still paints a wonderful olfactory picture, it’s just not where I hoped the fragrance would lead me from the start.
However, I highly recommend this as one of the best rose soliflores I have tried, and is a must sniff for rose connoisseurs. A beautiful perfume.
Une Rose 50ml Frederic Malle - £130 Les Senteurs
Dans Tes Bras opens with a powdery, almost candied violet with a driftwood note underneath. I get a brief flurry of aldehydes and sharp jasmine, followed by a potent musk balancing on the clean/dirty line surrounding the candy sweetness.
The driftwood note is there from the get-go and never leaves – it brings to mind seaweed, or the inside of a seashell. It smells slightly off or rotted, but clean from the ozonic saltiness that fizzes off the skin. It is as bizarre as it sounds and is fascinating paired with the classical powdery floral scent of violets. The jasmine recedes into the background before evaporating pretty quickly (and thankfully – I don’t feel like it belongs in Dans Tes Bras at all). The violet stays hovering in the heart for longer than expected, but is joined unwelcomingly by a piercing metallic incense – razor-sharp and jagged alongside the potent salt.
Now, I say unwelcomingly quite unfairly actually, I love the metallic incense – but up close it is unbearable (instant headache). As most fragrance notes do – it does begin to settle after the ten minute mark, and blends into a quieter and more complimentary volume.
So the violet de-sweetens, but retains its classic powder, the driftwood scent becomes fungal – deepening itself into a more earthy aroma of mushrooms (it’s convincing too – in a Christopher Brosius kind of way). The musk vanishes for a while, and allows a cedar to come forward. Yet again (along with the incense), the cedar is pretty sharp, it seems to absorb the salty ozonic notes to incorporate the cedar with the driftwood – dragging it’s instability into the base. A little glimpse of eugenol makes it’s appearance every now and again – cool and medicinal, reminiscent of its use in Iris Silver Mist with the same clove/earth feel.
If Dans Tes Bras reminds me of anything, it would be At The Beach 1966 by CB I Hate Perfume. Whilst this has the violet (which turns into a mineral accord), ATB1966 has suntan lotion. Also, the ozonic ”beachy” smell in the Brosius’ work, is far subtler – here in Dans Tes Bras it is intense, and the leading combination of accords that make up this relatively linear fragrance.
I get a little patchouli, and the return of the synthetic musk in the start of the drydown - and Dans Tes Bras loses all of its floral notes. What remains is a salty musk with a hint of sharp woods to support – it is the scent of skin after a dip in the ocean, and it’s really lovely.
Dans Tes Bras is going to be difficult for many – the notes contrast greatly in texture, and make parts of the evolution extremely uncomfortable. It’s also the most unusual fragrance in the Malle lineup, it verges on the avant-garde experimental perfumery of Brosius, or even the house of Comme Des Garcons. It’s in no way unwearable, and is a complete surprise considering the name “In Your Arms”… the first time I sprayed this in store I expected a warm Musc Ravageur type of scent - but no. Infact I found it quite repulsive the first time I tried it, the second – I loved it.
It’s cosy and intimate in a way that no other fragrance designed to be cosy and intimate is: it’s raw, literal and intense – whilst being quiet on the skin. I find it completely fascinating and it may well be my first purchase from the Frederic Malle house
Dans Tes Bras 50ml Frederic Malle – £100 Liberty