Guerlain
A unique visual signature based on accords, character, and seasonality
The first spray releases a burst of green so vivid it almost smells wet—crushed stems, snapped leaves, the bitter-fresh quality of flower stalks. Within seconds, tuberose petals begin unfurling through this verdant curtain, creamy and narcotic but kept in check by that persistent chlorophyll brightness. There's an unexpected sweetness already emerging, jasmine sambac's fruit-salad character mingling with lily's clean powder.
The tuberose reaches its full, unapologetic glory here, supported by jasmine that's gone rich and almost honeyed, whilst lily adds a soapy-clean counterpoint that prevents things becoming too animalic. The creaminess intensifies as sandalwood begins its slow rise from the base, creating a texture like whipped butter infused with white petals. Yet that green accord persists like a bright thread running through velvet, stopping the composition from becoming soporific or overly sweet.
Sandalwood and vanilla create a soft, skin-like warmth that feels almost edible—but vetiver's grassy, slightly smoky dryness keeps pulling you back from pure comfort into something more complex. The tuberose has quieted to a murmur, its indolic edges smoothed but still present, like the memory of flowers left on warm skin. What remains is creamy, gently sweet, and surprisingly fresh for something hours old.
Thierry Wasser's Joyeuse Tubéreuse does what few tuberose fragrances dare: it renders the flower joyful rather than funereal. This is tuberose stripped of its usual indolic heaviness, presented instead with a sparkling green clarity that feels almost effervescent. The opening carries the snap of chlorophyll and stems, as though you've just broken a flower from its stalk, fingers sticky with sap. But there's nothing austere about this verdancy—within minutes, the tubéreuse blooms with unabashed creaminess, joined by jasmine sambac's fruity, almost banana-like sweetness and lily's watery, pollen-dusted texture. The interplay between green crispness and floral opulence creates a fascinating tension, like watching storm clouds part to reveal sunshine.
What makes this composition particularly clever is how the base notes never overwhelm the florals. Sandalwood provides a pale, almost milky backdrop that lets the tuberose maintain its prominence, whilst vanilla adds just enough gourmand roundness without veering into dessert territory. The vetiver—likely the Haitian variety, judging by its subtle citrus-grassy quality—keeps everything lifted and luminous rather than allowing it to collapse into white floral sludge. This feels like a fragrance for someone who wants their tuberose served with champagne rather than whisky. It's lush without being heavy, indulgent without being cloying. Wear it when you want to feel abundant but not anaesthetised, when you want heads to turn without creating a suffocating cloud. Spring mornings, celebratory lunches, moments when joy feels like something worth bottling.
Add fragrances to your collection and unlock your personalised scent DNA, note map, and shareable identity card.
3.9/5 (194)