Prada
A unique visual signature based on accords, character, and seasonality
The Calabrian bergamot hits with genuine citrus oil brightness before that juicy pear note muscles in, creating an almost liqueur-like sweetness. The tangerine adds a fizzy, sherbet-like quality that feels deliberately playful against the more serious white flowers already lurking underneath.
Jasmine sambac takes centre stage in full, indolic glory—that banana-skin funk barely tempered by the cleaner orange blossom absolutes. The neroli provides crucial bitterness, preventing the composition from collapsing into pure dessert, whilst the multiple orange blossom treatments create textural complexity rather than simple volume.
The base resolves into a soft amber cocoon where bourbon vanilla and benzoin Siam meld with those synthetic musks into something skin-like and intimate. The Ambrofix provides that mineral, almost saline quality that keeps the sweetness from suffocating, leaving a powdery-musky veil that feels more memory than actual scent.
Nadège Le Garlantezec has crafted something deliberately disorienting here—a white floral that refuses to choose between innocence and indulgence. The opening bergamot and pear collision feels almost too ripe, that peculiar moment when fruit teeters on the edge of confectionery without quite toppling over. Then the jasmine sambac arrives in both natural and absolute forms, creating a dense, waxy opacity that the orange blossom—deployed in three distinct variations—can't quite penetrate. This isn't your grandmother's soliflore; it's a white floral viewed through a lens smeared with vanilla and synthetic musks, all sharpness dulled, all edges softened into something pillowy and deliberately hazy.
The Ambrofix and Serenolide pairing in the base is where the paradox actually materialises—these molecules create a skin-close amber that feels simultaneously warm and oddly cool, intimate yet detached. The benzoin adds a balsamic sweetness that never quite caramelises, held in check by that persistent neroli bitterness threading through from the heart. It's a fragrance for those who've grown weary of the shrieking tuberose-jasmine bombshells that dominated the 2010s but still want that narcotic white floral fix. You'll find this on gallery assistants in Mayfair, on product designers who've just discovered niche perfumery but aren't quite ready to abandon accessibility. It's unashamedly pretty without being cloying, comforting without being safe.
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3.6/5 (659)