Penhaligon's
A unique visual signature based on accords, character, and seasonality
Lemon cuts through with citric brightness, immediately shadowed by pink pepper's heat—a combination that feels almost peppery-floral rather than fresh. Within moments, the composition develops an unexpected warmth that suggests the cinnamon and iris beneath are already impatient to emerge.
Iris blossoms into a decidedly powdery, almost cosmetic softness, offset by cinnamon's spicy bite and benzoin's honeyed richness. Here the fragrance finds its true character: creamy, slightly oriental, with enough spice to prevent it settling into mere sweetness. This phase lasts longest and is arguably where Beauregard is most compelling—the various accords in productive dialogue rather than hierarchy.
Sandalwood and tonka dominate, the former providing a clean, almost creamy base whilst patchouli adds subtle earthiness and staying power. The sweetness becomes more prominent as volatiles fade, though the structure remains creamy and woody rather than gourmand. What lingers is less a distinct scent than a powdery, warm skin scent—generous but not forceful.
Monsieur Beauregard announces itself with an almost defiant cheerfulness—lemon and pink pepper sparring like old friends who've learned to needle each other affectionately. But this isn't a citrus fragrance masquerading as something refined. Within moments, that brightness collides with iris and benzoin, and the composition pivots toward something considerably more introspective. The iris arrives dusty and talc-soft, a powdery interlude before cinnamon's peppery warmth disrupts the peace. This is the fragrance's crucial sleight of hand: just as you settle into its powdered iris reverie, spice reasserts itself, preventing any descent into saccharine territory.
The base reveals Morillas's deft hand with restraint. Rather than drowning in tonka's vanilla sweetness, sandalwood and patchouli act as counterweights—the sandalwood yielding a creamy, almost soapy undertone whilst patchouli adds earthiness without becoming austere. Benzoin threads throughout like amber-coloured silk, binding these disparate elements into something simultaneously gourmand and grounded.
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3.4/5 (184)