Jul et Mad
A unique visual signature based on accords, character, and seasonality
Grapefruit and tangerine explode with citric vigour, immediately complicated by rhubarb's tart, almost jammy greenness—there's nothing candied here, just raw fruit acidity that makes your mouth pucker slightly. The opening is crisp, austere, and refuses to flatter.
The citrus retreats into softer focus as lotus and freesia emerge, their creamy-aquatic quality tempering the sharpness into something more wearable, though never soft. A subtle spiciness—neither warm nor peppery, more prickly and ethereal—weaves through the florals, creating an almost cooling sensation despite the absence of mint or cooling agents. Blue rose hovers somewhere between these elements, adding structure without prettiness.
Indonesian patchouli grounds everything in dry, earthy restraint, its slightly bitter, tobacco-tinged character emerging as the musk and sandalwood fade to near-imperceptibility. What remains is lean and minimalist—more the memory of fragrance than fragrance itself, clinging to skin with a whisper rather than a shout.
Terrasse à St-Germain captures that precise moment when afternoon light slants across a Parisian café table—a fragrance that smells like intelligence and leisure colliding. The opening assault is decidedly citrus-forward, with grapefruit and tangerine providing a tart, almost bracing quality, yet there's an unusual twist: rhubarb adds a slightly green, almost vegetable-like sharpness that prevents this from becoming another forgettable fresh cologne. It's as though someone's stirred tart stewed fruit into your morning juice.
What distinguishes this scent is the restraint of its floral heart. Rather than allowing blue rose and freesia to bloom into something conventionally pretty, they sit alongside lotus—that creamy, aquatic note—creating a slightly peppery, almost soapy transparency. The florals don't sweeten the composition; instead, they cool it, elongating the freshness like shade across hot pavement. There's a spicy undertone threading through, suggesting neither pepper nor clove precisely, but something more ephemeral—possibly the lotus asserting its slightly bitter character.
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3.3/5 (228)