Issey Miyake
A unique visual signature based on accords, character, and seasonality
Coconut water hits like chilled electrolytes with a synthetic sheen, immediately joined by fig's latex-like sweetness and a razor-sharp lemon that feels more functional than joyful. The effect is bracingly clean, almost aggressively so—think pressing your nose to freshly laundered linen that's been left in a freezer.
Eucalyptus and rosemary surge forward with cooling, camphorous intensity, their aromatic oils seeming to vibrate against the metallic geranium and warm cardamom beneath. The nutmeg attempts to add woody depth but can't quite compete with the salicylate that's already beginning to smooth everything into that unmistakable sunscreen creaminess—Ambre Solaire meeting herbal apothecary.
What remains is predominantly Ambrox-driven skin-musk with a whisper of patchouli's earthiness, all wrapped in persistent salicylate's coconut-adjacent smoothness. The woods register as more of a textural concept than actual timber, leaving you with that peculiar modern phenomenon—the scent of expensive nothingness, pleasant but oddly forgettable.
Fusion d'Issey presents itself as a study in modern abstraction—a deliberate collision between natural textures and synthetic shimmer that lands somewhere between spa fantasy and laboratory precision. The opening delivers an immediate blast of processed coconut water, rendered almost crystalline through what feels like amplified lactonic notes, whilst fig nectar adds a curious rubbery-sweet quality that reads more like almond milk than actual fruit. Lemon provides a sharp citric backbone, but it's quickly overshadowed by the heart's aggressive aromatic assault. Here, eucalyptus and rosemary dominate with a cooling, almost medicinal intensity that clashes intriguingly with cardamom's creamy spice. Geranium brings a metallic rosy-mintiness that feels deliberately synthetic—this isn't grandmother's garden, but rather a digitised interpretation of green. Nutmeg appears as a brief woody rasp before the salicylate really makes itself known in the base, lending that characteristic sunscreen-like smoothness that either enchants or repels. Ambrox provides the expected salty-skin muskiness, whilst patchouli and indistinct woods attempt to ground what remains a determinedly ethereal composition. The overall effect is fresh to the point of austerity—clean, crisp, and utterly contemporary in its rejection of warmth. This is for those who appreciate fragrance as conceptual art rather than sensual comfort, who reach for Comme des Garçons on Monday mornings, who find traditional aquatics too nostalgic. It's a shower gel accord elevated through sheer intellectual ambition, though whether that elevation succeeds depends entirely on one's tolerance for olfactory minimalism rendered at maximum volume.
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3.2/5 (75)