Champs-Élysées Guerlain

A bright, almost sherbet-like burst of violet and blackcurrant, immediately undermined by aniseed's liquorice intensity and peach nectar that smells almost syrupy. The almond arrives as a dusty, almost powdery undertone that prevents the opening from becoming purely fruity, lending an almost confectionery quality that feels slightly tart.

The florals flood in with considerable force—lilac's peppery sweetness dominates whilst lily of the valley contributes a waxy, almost soapy freshness that contrasts beautifully against the heavier peony. The mimosa adds a honeyed, almost metallic brightness that prevents this from becoming a purely romantic floral, creating instead a slightly discordant, almost uncomfortable prettiness that somehow works.

What remains, perhaps too briefly, is a muted base of benzoin-warmed vanilla and sandalwood attempting to ground the composition, though the cedar adds a faint woody dryness that's never quite able to anchor the floral-fruity sweetness overhead. By this point, the fragrance has largely evaporated from the skin, leaving only a faint powdery suggestion of what came before—a fleeting impression rather than a lasting statement.