Loewe
Loewe
264 votes
A unique visual signature based on accords, character, and seasonality
The pepper-apple combination strikes with unexpected sharpness, all bracing spice and tart fruit skin with barely any sweetness to cushion the blow. Within minutes, wisps of smoke begin threading through, hinting at the frankincense waiting beneath, whilst the apple quickly retreats into a vague fruity impression rather than literal fruit.
The frankincense absolute dominates now, presenting its full resinous character—lemony, piney, with that unmistakable churchy quality that walks the line between sacred and severe. The neroli orbits around this incense core, its bitter-green petitgrain aspects emphasized, creating an austere floral-resin marriage that feels almost deliberately uncomforting.
What remains is a quiet study in pale woods and earth—the Atlas cedar revealing its driest, most skeletal form, the vetiver lending a subtle rootiness, whilst faint traces of frankincense continue to ghost through. The musk barely whispers, creating an intimate skin-scent that feels more like absence than presence, a fragrance memory rather than a declaration.
Loewe 2010 captures that peculiar moment when cathedral incense meets the crisp bite of autumn air—a fragrance that refuses to sit comfortably in either the spicy or woody camp, instead carving out something altogether more contemplative. The opening salvo of pink peppercorns (unmistakably rosy-tinged, not black) crashes into red apple, but this isn't sweet fruit; it's the astringent snap of Braeburn skin, still cold from the tree. What makes this composition genuinely intriguing is Emilio Valeros's handling of frankincense absolute in the heart—it's presented raw and resinous, with that characteristic lemony-pine facet amplified rather than softened, creating an austere ecclesiastical quality that the neroli only partially brightens. The Moroccan neroli brings its characteristic bitter-green petitgrain edge rather than orange blossom sweetness, reinforcing the ascetic mood.
This is decidedly not a crowd-pleaser, and that's precisely its appeal. The cedarwood foundation feels deliberately spartan—all pencil shavings and dry timber rather than the plush, rounded cedar we're used to—whilst the vetiver adds an earthy, root-like quality that grounds the smoke without turning this into standard woody-oriental territory. The musk barely registers as animalic; it's more of a skin-scent whisper that stops the composition floating away entirely. This suits the sort of person who wears Comme des Garçons without irony, who appreciates Tauer's uncompromising vision, who finds most modern fragrances insufferably vapid. Wear this to galleries, libraries, long walks through bare winter woods—anywhere that demands presence without performance.
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3.8/5 (222)