An homage to roses in a scent inspired by a queen — that’s the story behind A La Rose, the latest release from Francis Kurkdjian. He was inspired by Marie-Antoinette‘s love for roses and by her famous portrait by Elisabeth Vigée Le Brun. According to details in Luckyscent and Mr. Kurkdjian’s January 2015 interview with Le Figaro, he used 250 Centifolia roses (May or cabbage roses) in the form of an absolute and 150 Bulgarian Damascena roses to create what he imagined to be Marie-Antoinette’s scent when looking at that portrait. He wanted it to be vision of delicacy that was far from spicy but, rather, as soft as the flower’s velvety petals and evocative of a certain “tendresse” (tenderness). He succeeded.
A La Rose is an eau de parfum that was released in late 2014. Fragrantica states that it was originally exclusive to the Japanese market which tends to imply a certain vibe or olfactory aesthetic. A report I did on the Asian perfume markets and Japanese cultural tastes indicates that they prefer the softest, most discrete, freshest of scents, which is one reason why many favour using nothing more than fabric softeners to provide the most imperceptible of fragrances.
Be that as it may, Mr. Kurkdjian’s vision was Marie-Antoinette and the softness of rose petals. His website offers no description for A La Rose, but Luckyscent states:
Two varieties of rose have bestowed the radiance and richness of their petals on this Eau de parfum: two hundred and fifty Centifolia roses from Grasse (May Rose) in the form of an absolute produce a very floral base note with sweet honeyed and carnal accents. One hundred and fifty Damascena roses from Bulgaria in the form of an essential oil create a top note with a playful blend of pear and lychee.
On the Maison Francis Kurkdjian website, pear and lychee are omitted from the official note list which reads as follows:
Damascena Rose from Bulgaria – Bergamot from Calabria – Orange from California – Violet – Magnolia blossom – Cedar wood – Musk – Centifolia Rose from Grasse.
A La Rose opens on my skin with all the beauty of fresh cabbage roses growing in a garden. It’s a sunny, bright, lightly fruity scent with perfectly balanced sweetness that feels like honeyed water or the rose’s natural nectar. The roses feel simultaneously fragrant and velvety, evoking images of freshly plucked petals that you’ve crushed lightly between your fingers. On my skin, the flowers smell primarily like cabbage roses mixed with the sweetness of tea roses, rather than the heavier, fruitier, beefier aroma of Bulgarian roses. Regardless, none of it is syrupy sweet and, even better, you can clearly tell that expensive absolutes were used instead of synthetics.
Most regular readers know that I generally struggle with rose-heavy fragrances and despise soliflores in particular, but I do love the scent of the flower in nature. There is something irresistible to me about the heady aroma, the velvety feel of petals, the delicate sweetness that feels as though big fat drops of honeyed nectar were drizzled on top. I find real roses often have fruity nuances, sometimes with a lemony aroma, occasionally with something resembling diluted mandarins, peaches, or some other fruit. And they often convey a green freshness that belies their narcotic lushness.
Most of that is on display here in A La Rose, albeit in delicate form. You can almost see a bouquet of the fattest of cabbage roses, skewing pink, yellow, and white, and lightly interspersed with greenish tea roses, all spun together with gossamer strands of sun-sweetened, ripe lemon. Their velvety petals are splattered with drops of orange that briefly smells soapy, then delicately juicy. Nectar glistens like golden dew in the light.
It’s a beautiful bouquet, though one that is quite ruined for me by the blasted white musk that Mr. Kurkdjian loves to employ in so many of his scents. Here, according to his interview with Le Figaro, he was careful to use only the faintest touch of woodiness but threw in lots of musk (“enfin beaucoup de musc”) to give it “douceur.” Well, to me, tons of musk does not translate as “softness” but damnably annoying commercial cleanness, freshness and, as here, soapiness. I loathe white musk with the intensity of a thousand burning suns, and the vast quantities of it in his creations consistently ruin the vast majority of them for me. In A La Rose, it’s initially not a problem if one uses the smallest quantity imaginable (though it becomes an issue later on), but anything more than a mere smear brings out the musk from the start. It’s pronounced and it’s soapy. Obtrusively clean. Without it, A La Rose would be a scent that even this rose-phobe might enjoy wearing. The amount of musk is not as dire or as extreme as his Amyris Femme (a traumatizing scrubber for me), but how I wish Mr. Kurkdjian would stop injecting so much commercial, laundry detergent freshness in everything. (Just how much of an aberration was the spectacular, masterful, and mesmerizing Absolue Pour Le Soir anyway??!)
Having gotten my white musk rant out of my system, I have to say that A La Rose is a pretty scent that surprised me in its opening moments, and there were times that I found myself sniffing it with appreciation. It reminded me of one of the few soliflores that is (on occasion) an exception to my rose phobia and that similarly conveys the sense of fresh roses growing in nature: Serge Lutens‘ lush Sa Majesté La Rose. There are differences, though. A La Rose is significantly sheerer, airier, cleaner, and fresher; it’s not as sweet or syrupy; the fruitiness is milder; and it has a violet note in the opening. The latter takes a few minutes to appear and doesn’t last more than 10 minutes on my skin, but it is there in very muted form in the background. It’s a greenish violet with a citrusy aroma and a synthetic sharpness that feels like another layer of freshness. I’m not enthused by it, even in a small dose, so it’s a relief when it packs its bags 15 minutes into the perfume’s development and goes.
Taking its place is the cedar which I think lends a perfect finishing touch to the rose. Something about the way it combines with the lemon serves to conjure up images of the other parts of a rose besides the petals. There is a moment early on where I could almost swear that Mr. Kurkdjian has somehow recreated the particular aroma of a rose’s leaves. Dark green, slightly bitter in a piquant way, lightly wooded, with just the faintest hint of something almost earthy, like the soil in which the plant grows. I wish all of this were a strong, powerful part of A La Rose because I think it’s lovely and it adds a layer of interesting complexity to what is essentially a really basic, simplistic scent. Unfortunately, it’s the tiniest of nuances that lasts but an instant and that I could detect only when I focused intently. That said, the cedar’s woodiness remains a quiet presence in the background and, later, in the drydown, plays a much greater role.
From afar, A La Rose radiates only pink roses with petal softness and boundless fresh, cleanness. The flowers may be imbued with lemony, fruity, and honeyed facets, but they’re all small quantities that are handled so delicately and blended so masterfully that each individual element feels like part and parcel of the rose, never standing out like a sore thumb or a separate layer. (The one exception is the clean musk; there is far too much of it to ever fall gracefully within the folds of the overall scent.)
Roughly 20 minutes into its development, A La Rose turns hazier, sheerer, and lighter. It was always an airy bouquet, right from the start, but it feels almost translucent now. The citrus fruits and honeyed water have melted into the rose, but a subtle layer of creaminess awakens in the base and soon rises up to coat the petals like the thinnest smear of clotted cream. It’s a lovely textural feel that adds to the impression of softness, as though your skin had been covered with a gossamer web of petals, all sprayed with a strong mist of clean musk.
As a soliflore, A La Rose doesn’t have complex layers or many stages, but there are small changes to the scent as time passes. The roses turn slightly powdery after 45 minutes, but it doesn’t feel like makeup or violet powder. Rather, it’s a textural issue, and simply another layer of cleanness. The creamy layer turns thinner, the fruity and lemony undertones retreat to the sidelines, and the roses turn simpler. Now, they feel more like sweet tea roses than the richer, fuller, honeyed aroma of cabbage roses or the fruitier damascena variety.
By the time the 2nd hour rolls around, A La Rose reminds me of the old classic, Tea Rose by Perfumer’s Workshop, that powerhouse soliflore that was such a big hit in the late 1970s and early 1980s. A La Rose is far less sweet, nowhere near as strong or heavy as Tea Rose, and worlds apart in terms of quality, but both fragrances are simple, slightly green bouquets that realistically recreate the bright freshness and sweetness of tea roses.
When the drydown begins at the top of the 4th hour, the perfume’s sweetness has dissipated, and A La Rose is primarily a very clean, lightly soaped, occasionally lemony, fresh rose with slivers of woodiness and creaminess. Over time, the rose fades, while the woodiness grows more pronounced. In its final hour, A La Rose is an indistinct floral, woody musk with cleanness and only a hint of creamy rose.
All in all, A La Rose had very discreet sillage and average to weak longevity. In general, it lasted between 6 and 7.5 hours, depending on how much I applied. Using 3 smears equal to 2 sprays from a bottle, A La Rose opened with about 2-3 inches of projection in an extremely sheer bouquet. After 20 minutes, the number was down to 1.5 inches at best, then roughly 0.5 after 45 minutes. A La Rose became a skin scent on me after 90 minutes, though it wasn’t hard to detect if I brought my nose close to my arm. That changed around the 4th hour, and I had to put my nose right on the skin and inhale hard. It took effort. Honestly, there were times after the 5th hour where I was astonished to find thin slivers of scent remained, but A La Rose persisted a while longer.
As I’ve mentioned before, my skin eats through floral soliflores with great rapidity, but I wasn’t the only one who experienced weak longevity and projection. Almost everyone on Fragrantica comments on it. One poster called “Eurochic” writes:
The SA told me that even though it’s an EDP, it wears more like an EDT, with longevity of maximum 4-5 hours. Keep in mind that it was created for the Japanese market, so the overall feeling is fresh and light, very pleasant, easy to wear in hot and humid climates. Non obtrusive, won’t give anyone headaches, IMO this is a safe office scent too.
I completely agree. It may not be my cup of tea, but A La Rose’s discreetness and sheerness make it a perfect office-scent, as well as one that would also work in very hot climates in general. The rest of Eurochic’s review is informative as well. Like me, he or she is “rose-phobic” and dislikes citrus notes, but was positively surprised by A La Rose:
Let me start by saying: I don’t like citrus and I’m a bit wary of rose perfumes. I only love the smell of real roses, and I love to bury my nose in the petals of all roses. [¶] So, à la rose starts with a fresh greenish feel, like rosebuds with dew on them. On my skin the citrus is not perceptible. [¶]
Gradually the dewy aspect dissipates and it becomes softer, like fresh blooming pink roses, not the deep dark velvet kind. Later on I can detect a sweet powdery veil (the violets maybe?). […][¶] So, rose-phobic that I am, I am surprised to find that I wouldn’t be opposed to wearing MFK à la rose. If you like the scent of pure roses, but prefer to keep it light (not heady like AG Rose Absolue for example) then this is one to try.
Other commentators rave about the budding roses as well, admiring how natural, fresh, and “realistic” the note is. (It “reminds me of the smell from my Nanna’s yard back home in NJ,” one person wrote.) Almost all the comments mention the discreet sillage, though few seem to mind. As one person put it:
The roses here are not the heady, “madame” kind… It is youthful, jolly and sparkling. The budding kind ones you see at dawn, where the cool morning air adds to the crispness and clarity of the scent. The violet debuts in the middle part but it does not overpower the roses at all, it is just enough to make its presence known. After 3-4 hours, I can then only detect the cedar on my skin. [¶] If you want an in-your-face kind of rose perfume, this is not for you, as it is light and delicate. It is close to skin, perfect for the spring and summer.
However, one person was disappointed in A La Rose, primarily because of its soapiness and greenness. “Little Parrot” writes, in part:
It is a very clean green soapy rose, Silage is low and becomes on my skin a sour skin frag, staying power is moderate, It does indeed remind me of roses de chloe. […][¶] If I want a non sweet, transparant rose, like a la rose then I prefere Rose Ikebana, because this is a less soapy and a unique perfume [….]
I think that review is instructive as well, because A La Rose is indeed a very clean, green, sometimes soapy fragrance without typical sweetness. To enjoy it, you must have some tolerance for clean musk and for the soapiness which it can imbue on some skin, and you definitely should not expect a syrupy rose.
I actually must come to Mr. Kurkdjian’s defense here because I really admire the fact that he’s avoided the tired cliché of a painfully sweet rose that so many houses (both niche and mainstream) resort to. Instead of combining the rose with the usual gooey fruitchouli, he’s opted for a delicate touch of crisp citrus and a drop of orange, leaving the flower’s innately honeyed nectar to make up the rest. It would have been so easy for him to put out the typical sweet rose scent that is a dime a dozen these days and that houses like Guerlain spew out with assembly-line frequency to appeal to the youthful, mainstream market. While A La Rose does indeed have a youthful feel, I think it is a more sophisticated, chic variety that still retains a feminine vibe with his bouncy, pink-skewing, fat cabbage roses. The woman it conjures up in my mind is a stylish, young professional who applies a single spray of A La Rose to have a completely intimate scent as her own secret during meetings in an fragrance-phobic environment, then later applies a rather hefty amount more as she gets ready to go on a date or night out.
Plus, I do think A La Rose has a quiet headiness to it in the opening 20 minutes, even though it’s subtle rather than the “Madame” sort as one person so aptly put it. It may not last for long given that the fragrance is indeed “transparent,” but is there anything really headier than the scent of a rose growing in nature? That said, if you’re looking for an opulently rich, narcotically deep fragrance, then A La Rose will not be for you.
Is A La Rose the most distinctive, original, edgy scent around? No, but few rose soliflores are, in my opinion. While I do think A La Rose is quite commercial in profile, it stands out for the realism of its scent, its superb blending, its smoothness, and the high quality of its ingredients. (Minus that white musk that I always think skews so cheap in feel but, as you have gathered by now, the note is my bete noire.) No wonder it seems to be sold out at a number of places that carry the MFK line. The bottom line is that it takes a really masterful hand to create a scent that someone who hates rose soliflores might consider wearing, but there were times when I pondered that precise issue with A La Rose. In the end, I’ll pass because of the cleanness, sillage, and longevity, but I recommend the fragrance for true rose lovers who want an approachable, versatile, easy-to-wear scent that is very clean, light, fresh, and discreet. It’s very nicely done.
Dear Kafkaesque, Thanks for the great review. I wish he had left out the musk, too. Without that musk it would be gorgeous from your description. I think I’ll stick with my fave soft rosebuds scent “Early Roses” by Teo Cabanel. It’s my favorite soft rose fragrance. Doesn’t last very long, unfortunately, but I can always re-spray!
I haven’t tried Early Roses, but you know how much I love the Téo Cabanel line. Everything they put out is of such high-quality, all of it feels elegant, and all of it comes at an affordable price. They’re such a sadly under-appreciated company. I’m glad you’ve found another favorite from them (and your Alahine email still makes me happy, by the way). Try the MFK scent if you come across it in a department store just to see but, if Early Roses works so well for you, it’s certainly money saved over the much more expensive A La Rose.
Early Roses is really gorgeous.
I love and own a bottle of Lutens’s Sa Majeste la Rose, seeing that you already compared them, do I need to try this or is it pointless? I already have lots rose-based perfumes in my collection so …. would like to know what you think.
It really depends on what you’re looking for and just how much you love roses. Are you someone who can never get enough of them, and is looking for a lighter, cleaner version that would work in both hot weather and work environments? Do you have issues with soapy undertones? Do you mind some powder? Or would you prefer a somewhat sweeter scent that skews more golden and warm, with less of a crisp morning feel or greenness?
It all comes down to individual tastes. I personally prefer Sa Majesté La Rose (especially the unreformulated version) because I think it is a deeper, richer, warmer and stronger scent — all of which makes it remain a realistic “rose from the garden” for longer. (Plus, it doesn’t have so much of that godawful clean musk that I always struggle with in MFK creations.) I also don’t see the Lutens as a bouncy, youthful scent but a woman’s one. It feels more regal and, in honesty, it is Sa Majesté La Rose that I think would suit Sa Majesté La Reine Marie-Antoinette, not A La Rose.
But all of that is me. In your case, it wouldn’t hurt just to try the A La Rose, and then you can decide if it fills any gaps in your rose collection. Hopefully, you live near a store that carries it so you can simply go in and sniff. My suggestion is to put it on skin and not just test it on a strip. That way, you can assess the longevity and sillage issues as well.
Thank you for another superb review, and thank you for quoting me 🙂
I’m the rose perfume phobe. When I see rose as a main note I’m always very wary, and the chances I like it are usually quite small. The only rose perfumes I can stand are Nahema and Diva, in small doses.
A la Rose is whispery soft and easy to wear, but rose soliflores are not what I reach for after all.
Haha, was that you? Wonderful. 😀 I didn’t know that you were both rose-phobic and anti-citrus. Lovely to know that I have company in that department. lol. It was a great review, Cath.
Oui, c’est bien moi. It’s an honour to be quoted by you.
The only reason I bought à la rose was to split it, since it was only available in Japan originally. I have about 10 ml left in that bottle. Maybe I could just shower in it in May or June and be done with it. Then I can keep the lovely box as a sample box or so, hahaha.
Interesting review, Kafka, and another that makes me believe that you’re not as much of a rose hater as you believe yourself to be!
As you know, I’m a rose lover, and I decided to pass on a split of this frag. Of course, I wanted to try it, as I want to try all things rose, but as I heard some early reviews, I figured I’d be disappointed. Of course, now that I’ve read your review, I want to “smell along,” but still, I have to admit that I’ve not found even one Kurkjian that I’ve really liked. Now that I’ve read this review, I wonder if it’s the “blasted white musk” that you’ve mentioned he uses so often. Hmmm.
Your review caused me to apply some Rose Ikebana, which I always forget about. I generally like darker roses, but this Hermessences always surprises me as I like it’s tart and sunny take on rose and as I, too, generally don’t like clean frags. For realism, I reach for Creed’s Eau The Rose de Bulgare. It is a highly realistic soliflore which really satisfies my love for the smell of fresh roses, mainly the wild rugosa roses, even though it is not made with them, but wow, the smell is just so evocative of the early summer roses where I live!
I was underwhelmed by Luten’s Sa Majeste de la Rose, and love his La Fille de Berlin. This review, along with others, makes me wonder yet again (and I hope this makes sense) if the rose fragrances that those who consider themselves rose fragrance lovers like and those who consider themselves not are different, because it seems to be fairly consistently true.
You know, I truly would not be surprised if rose lovers and rose haters were drawn to very different profiles of the flower. That would make a lot of sense to me, because the expectations, standards, or thresholds must be very different between the two groups. Perhaps rose lovers tolerate more in a terms of the nuances or elements in rose scents. Take your example of La Fille de Berlin: I know quite a few hardcore rose lovers who seem to adore it just as you do. Yet, most rose-phobes I know can’t stand it, finding it metallic, thin, cold, pale, and/or a variety of other things. Perhaps there is only a certain, very narrow sort of rose profile to which we respond, one that skews a certain way. I don’t know, but I suspect the rose-phobe’s tolerance level is quite low at the very least. lol.
As for the rest of your thoughtful comment, I must say that my eyes glazed over at the names of so many rose scents and I winced inside. *grin* This must be how all the rest of you feel when the tuberose lovers (or Big White Flower addicts) get together and start tossing out names. Heh. 😀 😉
Ha! I only named two rose frags! But, I take your point.
And your response to my rumination about what’s nice to a rose hater (or not) makes the whole thing make complete sense. That it seems consistent, though, is really, really interesting to me, like with the SL example.
I’d love someone to do a study about scent perception. . . .I really would!
I didn’t mean it anything negative about the rose fragrances, Julie. I was partially teasing. And while it did seem like an overwhelming list of sooooooooooo much rose stuff 😉 , I’m sleep deprived and haven’t gone to bed in 2 days, so I’m more easily overwhelmed by rose things than usual. 🙂
PS — have you ever tried Absolue Pour Le Soir?
I knew you were teasing, and so was I! Teasing perhaps doesn’t work well on the Interwebz. :-p
I can’t say for sure if I have tried Absolue Pour Le Soir – I plead guilty to a terrible memory.I think I did and was nonplussed. I see there’s ylang ylang in the notes list and that can totally kill my love for anything.
Funny thing about memory – I went to a doctor yesterday and she asked me how I responded to a past treatment. When I said, “Oh I’m sorry, I know it wasn’t that long ago but I can’t seem to recall,” she responded by saying that if it was positive, I would indeed remember. So, there’s that.
I found it very nice when I tried it back in November, well done and I wouldn’t mind having a bottle but it didn’t blow me away to actually buy it. The one I would definitely buy is my dream perfume, “Absolue pour la Nuit”, which I guess will remain just that, a dream now that Absolue pour me Soir is disc. 🙁
What is “Absolue Pour La Nuit”? Did you mean APLS/Absolue Pour Le Soir? If so, it’s is not discontinued. I saw it on the MFK website just yesterday. 🙂 As for A La Rose, it’s a spendy little thing for such a scent, so I can fully understand why you weren’t blown away enough to buy it.
Absolue pour la Nuit is an imaginary perfume that I hoped Francis would create to continue after Absolue pour le Soir. It would be more animalic with added civet, leather, castoreum, hyraceum and tuberose. It’s never going to happen I know, but it was fun to dream! 🙂 As for Absolue pour le Soir the only one I see is the cologne version. I was told earlier this year that it was officially discontinued, and what leftover stock is left is the last. The cologne will follow later on. (This from a reliable source) Apatently it doesn’t fit with the new aesthetics of MFK. I’m glad for my backup though it will take me ages to go through them. As for the Roja Dove article, I was reading and thinking “Do I really need more €200+ lemmings?” Apatently I do! 🙂
Ah, thanks for clarifying about “Absolue Pour La Nuit.” As for APLS being discontinued, I think I had heard that rumour at one point but had completely forgotten about it. So it’s final and confirmed, huh? 🙁 Honestly, it doesn’t surprise me, since I know that APLS was always the worst seller from the line and I’d heard a while back that Mr. Kurkdjian was under pressure from his backers to create commercial scents. In other words, the fresh, clean crap that he’s been putting out for a while and that appeals so much to modern, mainstream tastes. Ugh. Revolting. (His Amyris truly traumatized me for a few days after I wore it, and has left a permanent bad taste in my mouth.) Anyway, I’m not sure the “new aesthetics” are all that new, but it’s certainly disappointing either way for someone of his huge talent.
Anyway, I just rechecked the MFK website and while APLS *is* there, it’s in the main section of the store, there is no price listed and no way to put it in a cart: http://www.franciskurkdjian.com/our-fragrance-house__7_our-collection_pour-le-soir_cologne-pour-le-soir_43.html In the actual online store section, it’s not listed at all, though the Cologne remains there for now: http://www.franciskurkdjian.com/fragrances-to-share_3_cologne-pour-le-soir-for-the-evening__cps.html?lang=2 So you’re absolutely right, and it’s already gone.
Really sad. It was the only scent from his line that I loved.
It’s the only one I love and own. Right from the very first sniff 3 years ago! I like Oud silk mood but for the €306 it costs I enjoy Oud Ispahan a looot more. And APOM Femme was nice but I feel his Elie Saab creation, is far better, more intoxicating and better performing.
APLS and CPLS are discontinued? What a shame, what an utter shame! I fell in love at first sniff with APLS but bought CPLS because I felt APLS wasn’t appropriate to wear in Japan, and I bought a nice large decant of APLS instead. Earlier this year I caved for a bottle after all. Boy, am I glad I got it. Now I’m wondering if I need a back up of CPLS. Ah, so many decisions…
I’m glad you got your bottle of APLS in the end. And I would seriously consider the issue of a CPLS back-up given that the scent is easier for you to wear in Japan! 🙂
White musk? No thanks. I would like to smell SL Fille de Berlin, though. I did love the sample of APLS so much that it’s on my full bottle list, but if it’s dc maybe I’d better get it sooner than later. That’s always my freaking luck: no matter what in my life I find something I love, it’s always stopped, taken away or discontinued. That sounded like a temper tantrum, but it really wasn’t! 🙂 Alex has a good idea with “Absolue pour la Nuit”- animalic. lol Kafka? May I send you an email? It’s perfume related stuff, but too much to be bouncing all over your blog in the respective categories. Hopefully you get some sleep soon. I’ve been sleep deprived for a long time.
Liberty in London has it in stock! One of the few places I’ve seen it! 🙂
Thank you Alex! Good idea for Absolue pour la nuit…:)
There are a number of places over here that still have it. I saw APLS in a department store a few months ago. Checking online today, I saw it still at Luckyscent, Neiman Marcus, OsswaldNYC, and Amazon.com. It’s also still at Harvey Nicks in London. My guess is that the American retailers had a large stock, so I suppose we’re lucky in that regard and there is still some time for us over here. 🙂
It’s not a great time for emails, I’m afraid, Don. I’ve got too much on my plate right now, I’m wiped out, and I really don’t have the time for any detailed or lengthy email discussions. Email correspondence for the blog is increasingly taking up more and more of my time, and it sometimes takes up to 4 hours a day. As it is, right now, I’m massively behind on replies, some by more than a week because it’s all become too much. In conjunction with all the time required by the many, many parts that make up each review, as well as the time involved in responding to each blog comment, I’ve had to postpone some things I had been working on for the blog.
Please don’t take it personally, Don. I work 7 days a week on blog stuff, at a minimum of 12 hours a day but typically more like 16 and occasionally more than that. I sometimes get 10 hours of sleep in the entire week. I need to make cuts somewhere because things can’t continue like this. Emails are the first cut, but I may soon have to reconsider my approach to blog responses as well. Perhaps not respond to most of them unless it happens to be a rare slow day. So unless it’s an urgent issue, I’m afraid I really don’t have the time right now for email discussions. I’m very sorry, my apologies.
No apologies dear; just trivial stuff. Some other time. 🙂 You were supposed to cut back the other month, but you’ve been going full force; non stop! I can tell you from personal experience that my insomnia was severely affecting my daily life and my health to the point I ended up in hospital. Anyway, that’s a tale for another day. You definitely go above and beyond the call of duty for your blog and devoted lemmings. : D Your lemmings appreciate all your fantastic work and attention to detail in making this blog the best blog….Thanks Kafka.
I’ve got a sample of this somewhere that I really must try. I do like rose scents across a wide variety of profiles, from simple soft ones like this to neon ones and darker ones.
In terms of soft roses, I did NOT care for Rose Ikebana (too much citrus, and too angular). I like DelRae Coup del Foudre (though I admit I passed my decant on to someone else because it did that shrinking-sillage thing I hate). I really thought TC Early Roses was beautifully done and a joy to wear; I just haven’t bought any because I still have a bottle of one of the Paris Printemps LE flankers and one of Parfums de Rosine Rose d’Ete (yellow roses, my absolute favorite) to go through for summer wear before I buy another simple rose. When it’s time, I’m getting Early Roses.
(If I’m not mistaken, that second photo is of double cherry blossoms, is it not?)
The photo was labelled as roses on two different wallpaper sites and the flowers also look like the climbing roses one of my neighbors has, but I’m the furthest thing from a gardening or rose expert. I’m going to hope they are roses. lol. As for the MFK scent, you’ll have to try it and let me know what you think.
Well, we’ll just pretend they’re roses. (Tip-off? the leaves. And the branch/stem growth. Clearly it fooled the wallpaper dudes too.) I’ll report back on the MFK.
Heh, thank you. Yes, let’s just pretend they’re roses, though my OCD has been going into over-drive since your comment. Problem is, it’s hard to find another image to replace it that is both horizontally narrow and conveys just that sort of feel in terms of a composition with that sort of colour/light/airiness mix. I’m trying to clamp down on my OCD need to fix it for accuracy’s sake.
It sounds like you’re a real gardener or horticulturist. I’m impressed. I have a black thumb, not a green one, and I end up killing most plants. lol
The only rose perfumes that I have loved so far are Guerlain Nahema parfum and Ungaro Diva like an earlier poster. This sounds way too weak for my tastes.
I love Diva; so much I would buy a bottle. 🙂
It certainly doesn’t have a quarter of the strength of vintage Diva or Nahema!
I’m happy to see your review of A La Rose. Most other reviews I’ve read are tepid on this one, but I like it very much. Sometimes I want a simple, lovely, refreshing rose that I can spray with abandon, even before heading to work. This one will fill that spot beautifully in my fragrance wardrobe. The price is high (which may be a reason for the aforementioned tepid reviews), so I’m joining in on split. If I go through that portion quickly, I would consider buying a full bottle.
Thanks for reviewing rose fragrances, even though I know you’re not a big fan of rose! 🙂
You’re very welcome, my dear. I’m happy you found a rose fragrance that suits your needs so perfectly. 🙂
This will appeal to many, no doubt. Shame about the white musk though – I don’t like it either. It sounded so promising, too! That being said, Absolue pour le Soir remains an absolute gem and something I haven’t found duplicated anywhere else. Like you, I do admire he didn’t add the syrupy sweetness that our Perfume Overlords have decided must accompany any floral scent. Thank goodness for small miracles!
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I’m with you on the white musks. On one hand we have the highest quality of rose absolute and oil, on the other, white musks, the cheapest ingredient in perfumery today which belong to generic stuff like Chloé eau de toilette. I had the same problem with Joy Forever, great high quality composition ruined by white musks overdose. Back in the days, perfumers used good old fashioned aldehydes to brighten up fragrances, they’re out of style today but at least they smelled a lot more sophisticated than white musks.
I found Nahema pure parfum tester on ebay and purchased Sa majesté la rose for the day. They’re both amazing, rich, wonderful rose perfumes.
I have a question. Rose seems to be the most loathed note amongst perfume bloggers, however it always seems to be perfumers favorite note and ingredient to work with. Why do you think that is? This is quite intriguing.