Nahema by Guerlain : Perfume Review

Have you ever buried your nose in a fabulous rose? Imagine the experience magnified a hundred times...Take away the musty, earthy odor, for this is a new, waxy rose, its petals still tightly wrapped together, yet the godly scent is flowing unfaltering, unstoppable out of its calyx. Yes, Nahema starts out with a triple dose of rose, heady and determined, but the top notes are soon joined by bergamot and tangerine. In no way does my mind’s eye leave the mystical rose garden yet though. Their citrusy scent, instead of making the mental imagery diverge, consolidates the grandeur of the flower. The notes blend so well I am instead left imagining dried rosehip, with its distinctive citrusy tang. The base notes of sandalwood and vetiver are not far behind, making an early appearance, somehow preceding the middle notes, helping the image complete itself as my nose follows the shape of the plant to its woody base. It is not an outline of a rose; it is no plain sketch. This is the living bush, three-dimensional and glorious. In the drydown, any freshness our rose had is strangled, dying the sweetest death in the enveloping embrace of the narcotic, oily passion of ylang-ylang; a passion enhanced by the fragrance of overripe, juicy peach. And this is the only thing that rouses me from my focus on the rose... It makes me rise to my feet in my imaginary rose garden with eyes half-closed, beckoned by the heavy trail that somehow manages to refrain from being either oppressing, or cloying. It is an intense, sweet but never saccharine, inebriating trail I just have to follow. All I know when I am conscious of my thoughts again is that I am left in liquid, dangerous darkness. It is then I realize that the rose garden was never set in dusk; it was all an illusion. Darkness all around, Nahema operates in the night. I had been blind. There are no flowers around, just the lingering scent of a mysterious woman. A woman with red lipstick and dark clothes, layers upon layers of beautifully cut, couturier clothes and silk stockings. It will take a man precious time to undress her, precious time relishing the peeling of every single garment, every string of pearls. The only thing he will not be able to strip her of is her savage perfume, a scent that’ll haunt him.

Picture courtesy of www.johnswoodcraft.com