Idylle Duet Rose Patchouli

First, a ranty digression.

A perfume should have a simple and nice evocative name. Say Crépuscule. The two latest two trends irk me. One uses the simple formula of two words - one for the main ingredient, one for something else. So you get Vetiver Noir, Rose Froide, Patchouli Crépuscule or for even less sense, Crépuscule Patchouli. At worst, it would be Vetiver Patchouli.
The other trend is flankers of flankers of flankers and naming results in word strings. In which we take the original Crépuscule based on heady jasmine and neroli supported by a touch of vetiver for a bit of smoky cold and maybe a drop of birch tar or cade for a hint of smoke in the air, and a decent serving of animalic musk, like, the real thing from deer's ass, that would stand for foxes and owls going out for their nightly endeavours. (1) It becomes a commercial success (2) and someone decides that maybe there should be a lighter version (3) and we get the Crépuscule Light, later on, a summer version comes up of both Crépuscule and Crépuscule Light so we get Crépuscule Light L'Eau and Crépuscule L'Eau d'été. And since all things niche are in, let's add a bit of niche flair by accenting one or two ingredients, randomly in each of the existing version. Resulting in Crépuscule L'Eau d'été Infusion Vetiveriale, Crépuscule Light Eau de Vetiver, Crépuscule Light L'Eau Vetiver et Zizanie, Crépuscule Light L'Eau Jasmin, Crépuscule Cologne du Jasmin, Crépuscule Vetiver, Crépuscule Jasmin Le Parfum (because to the usual EdT, we've added extrait, eventually, but only in the jasminified version), and some Crépuscule Zizanie.

Are you still with me? Good for you, the ride goes on. After someone in the creative department gets raving mad, we end up with Crépuscule L'Eau d'été Parfum Intense Neroli Millesime 2012, which is a close second to Crépuscule L'Eau du Cade Cologne Benzoin Le Parfum Intense Rénard Polar. The Institute for Clarity and Purity of French Language sues for obvious linguistic abomination, polar foxes march on the company headquarters to bite someone in the posterior and the perfume consumer goes to the nearest treehugger store to buy patchouli oil.

The digression ends here, thank you for your attention.

I thought that the actual name was only Idylle Duet, the Rose Patchouli being just a small identifier, addendum, omissionable thing. Later, I learned that there will be Idylle Duet Lilac Something and banged my head against my table. No worries, the table is made of decent Finnish birch that can take a lot. Finns have hard skulls.

The original Idylle oh-de-parfum was sheer crap. I guess that they tried to ameliorate it in the EdT, which is not just diluted, it's totally something different, more floral and what a luxurious soap in a posh hotel should smell like. I thought about getting a shower gel on fleabay after someone discards it from a gift box but then I forgot about it.



When Duet appeared, I first encountered it in a railway station Sephora. Having nothing substantial to do, I was sniffing news and this appealed to me. Apparently, the original blandness was tweaked to something that has a bit of body, substance and last but not least, guts. Well, appealed. I was thrilled and enchanted. From retrospect, I don't really know why. Duet is not bad, it's nice but definitely not enchanting. Maybe it's the contrast between the fucked-up Idylle La Originelle and something with a character.

Added to the Idylle Nothing-else, there's the rose and patchouli. The cheap shampoo smell goes away after a hour or two and what remains is okay in my view. There is the sugary sweet yet dry rose in the best Guerlain tradition - I guess it's the admixture of patchouli that does it, and there's a skin/leather undertone which tweaks the whole highly suspicious creation into something that made me sniff around and find out that it's actually my forearm that smells so good. Not good as in 'good to die for'. Idylle Rose-patch is nicely wearable, pleasantly unexciting and there's a bit of discord in it to keep me aware of its presence.

I must admit it now: I'm disappointed that I'm not disappointed.


----------------------------------------
(1) yes, you'll hear more of it when it gets made.
(2) I wish!
(3) Could be.