The Merchant Of Venice
The Merchant Of Venice
433 votes
A unique visual signature based on accords, character, and seasonality
Mandarin provides a fleeting, almost apologetic citrus note before almond blossom crashes the party with its sweet, Play-Doh-adjacent nuttiness. The hawthorn adds a subtle frangipane effect, its own almond-like qualities merging with the actual almond to create an almost syrupy intensity. Within minutes, tuberose begins its creamy ascent, though you can already sense it's been defanged of its usual indolic bite.
The tuberose reaches full bloom here, but it's tuberose in soft focus—lush and creamy rather than carnal, its natural headiness muffled by powdery heliotrope that adds cherry-vanilla overtones. The almond blossom persists stubbornly, creating an unusual floral-marzipan hybrid that sits somewhere between a Bakewell tart and a bouquet. This phase is all plush sweetness, the florals so heavily sweetened they feel almost edible, their petals seemingly glazed in vanilla syrup.
Tonka and vanilla merge into a single, cohesive sweetness—less distinctly 'vanilla extract' and more of a generalised, caramelised warmth. The cedarwood finally asserts itself, providing a smooth, pencil-shaving dryness that stops the composition from collapsing into pure confection. What remains is a powdery, woody-sweet skin scent that hovers close, intimate and comforting, like cashmere still warm from the dryer.
La Fenice pour Femme is an unabashed gourmand-floral that wears its sweetness like Venetian brocade—opulent, unapologetic, and richly textured. The mandarin opening provides barely a moment's hesitation before the composition plunges into its true character: a narcotic duet of tuberose and almond blossom that smells less like actual flowers and more like marzipan petals dusted with heliotrope's cherry-vanilla powder. This is tuberose stripped of its indolic earthiness and recast as confection, its creamy intensity amplified by the almond's almost play-dough sweetness. The hawthorn lurks at the edges, lending a peculiar almond-adjacent facet that doubles down on the nutty accord rather than providing contrast.
What prevents this from becoming a bakery counter simulacrum is the cedarwood in the base—not sawdust-dry, but a smooth, pencil-shaving woodiness that tempers the vanilla-tonka foundation just enough to keep it on skin rather than dessert plate. The powdery quality intensifies as it dries, that heliotrope working overtime to soften every edge into something plush and enveloping. This is a fragrance for someone who finds typical white florals too sharp, too green, too 'perfumey'. She wants florals that have been steeped in sugar syrup and wrapped in cashmere. It's date night in a velvet booth, winter evenings when central heating makes everything feel close and intimate, or any time you want to smell edible without crossing into actual gourmand territory. Comforting rather than challenging, sensual without being overtly seductive.
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3.7/5 (135)