Like the black narcissus, the blue lense on this flower also relies heavily on orange blossom to tell its fantastic tale of seductive yet destructive self-loving.

Eau de narcisse bleue is unexpectedly part of Hermes' cologne collection; a fragrance family characterized by effervescent citrus, pungent herbs and overall cheerfulness. Eau de narcisse bleue, like its former abstract floral cologne eau de gentiane blanche, is melancholy and more than sunny Mediterranean patios and azure sea and skies, it brings to mind a walk in a Northern garden early in early autumn morning after it rained. There is still a fair amount of vegetation from the sunny summer left - cyclamens, irises and many leafy greens. The air is filled with a crisp watery freshness of green grass and violet leaves crushed underneath one's foot. It's so vegetale that it's reminiscent of a very green gazpacho and juiced greens and wheat-grass.

The opening notes are those of vulnerable orange blossoms drenched in iced green tea (which undoubtedly would be what rain is made from in the Ellena's world). Their scent is sweet and cheerful, but is diminished by the celestial rinse. Echoed from the distance are narcissus flowers peeking through the green shrubs and represented by the sweet scent of hay more than anything else. You'll find non of the animalic, paracresyl methyl ether characteristics of the flower that give it the unbearble leathery corpse personality. Just a whiff of the narcissus' green top notes, resembling lily of the valley in their ethereal greenness.

Then comes iris, and the playful orange blossom all but disappears. Cool and powdery yet also sweet and plasticy, the iris brings to mind Hiris, which may as well be the blueprint for both Narcisse Bleue and Gentiane Blanche. At the present makeup of this collection, it is a bit astonishing that Hiris wasn't drafted to serve as a cologne as well.

The dry down is a bit disappointing though: it reverts to a non-descript musky coumarin whisper. Vague, sweet and disappointing at the end of an interesting exercise in restrained story-telling and subtle olfactory imaging.

Top note: Tea, Orange Blossom
Heart notes: Iris, Violet Leaf, Narcissus, Hay
Base notes: Tonka Bean, Musk

For a cologne with the the adjectif amber in the title, Eau de mandarine ambrée is surprisingly green. And cool.

True to the eau de cologne genre, eau de mandarine ambrée begins with a rush of bitter orange zest, whose juicy tartness is only intensified by undertones of passionfruit*. The mandarin itself is rather tart as well, rather than the characteristic sweetness of Citrus reticulata. Amber plays an interesting role, giving a cool presence rather than sweet-confectionary. Rather than embodying the honeyed and perhaps floral nuances of mandarin, it recalls crushed leaves and cool greenery in the shade of an abstract glass orchard.

For an eau de cologne, this has an astonishing longvity, although true to Ellena's style, it remains quiet and vague throughout. The amber lingers on and on - it's a clear, cool and transparent amber, not nearly as sweet as those with rich vanilla absolute and labdanum resin. Instead, it relies on distilled resins and balsams (Peru and copaiba balsams, as well as less-sweet labdanum isolates), and synthetic molecules which I know nothing about**.

The concept of amber within the refreshing, light composition of citrus and herbs is not new: Spanish-style eaux de colognes are long-known for incorporating cistus, the plant bearing labdanum resin, and an essential component of ambers. Cistus has a coniferous, herbaceous facet in addition to its resinous-amber aspect. Ellena plays with a similar concept, while conjuring modern ambery elements that carry the illusion of crushed chilled leaves and mandarin pulp to control the sweetness of amber. 

* Thus continuing the theme of fruit in the refurbished eau de cologne series: Eau d'Orange Verte had the addition of mango; and Pamplemousse Rose had rhubarb ( not botanically a fruit, but considered as such by North American cooks...). The Jardin series features fruit more consistently: Fig in Mediteranee, green mango in Sur Le Nil, cantaloupe in Apres la Mousson, and pear in Le Toit.

** Except that I can recognize this as the amber same I've smelled years ago in DiorAddict, Kingdom and Nu.

Зеленое Безумие (Green Madness) by Anna Zworykina is about hay stacks and citrus, and is a fougère in the most natural meaning of the way. At the heart of the matter lays lavender absolute: as velvety as it is herbaceous; as earthy as it is ethereal, reminiscent of the last days of summer, where the hay is at its driest, and the sun a tad gentler. An evening stroll in the fields of vegetal death might reveal some hidden life: a wild carnation here, or the regal flowering bulb of sea squills (Drimia maritimia) there, proclaiming the arrival of autumn and the death of summer...

And all of a sudden, the burden of the heat began to lift brings relief mingled with sorrow: the bittersweet farewell to summer's perceived freedom (in reality it keeps me sealed indoors even better than the rainy season). And that's how nostalgia is born.

Fougère has a strange tendency to bring on soft memories, yet has strong masculine nature: strong arms rolling bales of hay, working the fields, the freedom and the abundance of sweetness on a balmy summer night. Green Madness has all of that, and also remains a tad quirky, working unusual cognac notes into the heart, yuzu and tarragon into the otherwise lime-centred head notes, and putting accent on woods along the mossy base. It's may not look like a classical fougère because of the absence of niether coumarin-dominated note at the base nor lavender and linalool notes in the top; but it sure has the overall feel of a fougère, even if unintentionally (the perfumer-creator categorizes it as a "chypre" but I beg to differ). Technically, I can explain it by the presence of coumarin in both lime and lavender absolute. Also, the Himalayan cedarwood has an affinity with rosewood's linalool-rich personality. As with impressionism, it's the overall picture that matters, not the exact details. There are several other brush strokes of unrelated colours  - yet if you step back you'll see that it is, after all, a bale of hay.

Top notes: Lime, Tarragon, Yuzu, Lemon
Heart notes: Seville Lavender Absolute, Green Cognac
Base notes: Oakmoss, Himalayan Cedarwood, Vanuatu Sandalwood