Body Burberry

Body Burberry arrives as a confection wrapped in silk—sweet and powdery, yet restrained enough to avoid cloying excess. Michel Almairac constructs something deliberately soft-focus here: the absinth lending a whisper of anise-tinged green freshness before peach and freesia arrive with custard-like sweetness, their fruit notes sitting plump and candied rather than juicy. The real architecture emerges in the heart, where rose and iris create a gossamer veil of powder that catches light like talc on skin. Sandalwood grounds this floral sweetness, preventing it from floating away entirely, whilst the base layers in cashmeran and musk—those synthetic amber-woody molecules that smell faintly like warm skin—anchor everything into something intimate and skin-like.

This is a fragrance for the person who finds most florals too shouty, too demanding of attention. It's whispering rather than declaring. The powdery accord dominates (76% according to the data), which explains its almost imperceptible sillage—this clings close, a second skin rather than a scent cloud. It's the fragrance you wear on quiet mornings in winter, layered under cashmere, or on evenings when you're dressing down rather than out. There's a restraint here that feels distinctly Burberry: understated luxury masquerading as simplicity. The downside? That same quality means it vanishes rather quickly, a fleeting presence rather than a lasting statement.