Crazylibellule and the Poppies
Crazylibellule and the Poppies
279 votes
A unique visual signature based on accords, character, and seasonality
The aldehydes detonate like champagne bubbles laced with furniture polish, whilst neroli and bergamot provide a bright, almost abrasive citrus halo. Cypress adds an unexpected green-resinous bitterness that cuts through the effervescence, hinting at the complexity to come.
A tangle of white florals emerges—gardenia's creamy indoles wrestle with jasmine's more mentholated facets, whilst lily of the valley tries and fails to keep things ladylike. The iris contributes an earthy, carrot-like rootiness, and there's a distinct sense of something fading and browning at the edges, like flowers left too long in the vase.
Oakmoss dominates, spreading its bitter-green darkness across the skin, whilst amber and musk add warmth without sweetness. The promised vanilla and tonka finally appear, but they're diffuse and woody rather than gourmand, more suggestion than statement, grounded by vetiver's smoky rasp.
There's something deliciously perverse about Poule de Luxe's marriage of names and materials—'Vanilla Moka' promises gourmand comfort, yet Guy Robert delivers a magnificently dirty floral chypre that reeks of vintage sophistication rather than café sweetness. The aldehydes fizz and spark against a citrus constellation of bergamot, neroli, and orange blossom, creating that unmistakable soapy-metallic shimmer of mid-century perfumery. But beneath the scrubbed glamour lurks something feral: oakmoss beds down with what the notes cryptically call 'decay' and 'grunge', lending the whole composition an animalic, slightly rotten edge that keeps the florals from turning prim. The gardenia and jasmine at the heart are dense, almost waxy, whilst iris adds its earthy, rooty character rather than delicate powder. This is floral in the way Bandit is floral—unapologetic, broad-shouldered, stained with lipstick and tobacco. The vanilla and tonka finally emerge in the base, but they're thoroughly corrupted by vetiver's greenish snarl and the forest floor funk of oakmoss. This isn't a fragrance for the timid or the literal-minded. It's for those who understand that elegance can be louche, that florals needn't be pretty, and that true luxury often has dirty fingernails. Wear it when you're feeling dangerous in kitten heels, or when you want to smell like the chicest, most dissolute person in the room.
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4.2/5 (193)