Atkinsons
Atkinsons
85 votes
A unique visual signature based on accords, character, and seasonality
Coriander sparks first, tingly and almost culinary against the bergamot's citric brightness—this is not your typical floral opener. The spice dominates immediately, creating that herbal, slightly peppery quality that prevents any immediate softness.
As the spice recedes, jasmine and tuberose emerge but already tempered by that synthetic, powdery quality, creating an almost soapy, refined florality that feels dressed rather than bare. The woods begin asserting themselves now, particularly the cedarwood's pencil-shaving dryness.
The ambrox and musk become the primary storytellers here, mingling with sandalwood in a creamy, skin-like embrace that's neither particularly warm nor particularly cold—just present, slightly chalky, ultimately quite subtle. The woods provide a persistent woody-spicy hum beneath rather than a dominant finish.
Tulipe Noire arrives as a deliberately contradictory proposition—a floral that refuses the expected sweetness, instead channelling spice and woody restraint through a jasmine-tuberose heart. The opening coriander-bergamot pairing creates an almost savoury entry, the citrus catching those herbaceous spice notes and lending them a slightly peppery, almost herbal quality rather than the typical warmth you'd anticipate. What's remarkable here is the synthetic accord's presence (64%) acting not as a cheap flourish but as a structural element—it keeps the tuberose from becoming indolic or cloying, instead lending an almost powdered, slightly metallic quality to the floral heart that prevents it from romanticising itself.
This is a fragrance for those drawn to florals with bite. The cedarwood and sandalwood base create a woody skeleton that speaks to restraint and formality rather than sensuality—think structured tailoring rather than silk negligée. The ambrox and musk add a creamy undercurrent that prevents the woods from turning astringent, though "creamy" here is more chalky, skin-like whisper than buttery comfort. It's unisex not because it's a thin compromise, but because it refuses gender performance altogether; it simply exists as an angular, somewhat austere floral that happens to work on anyone willing to meet it on its own terms.
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4.2/5 (222)