Elixir de Parfum Comme une Evidence by Yves Rocher : Perfume Review

I discovered Comme une Evidence back in June and instantly fell in love with it, specifically with the Elixir version of it. I do not have a bottle, or even a sample of the EdP version here with me in order to do a side-by-side comparison, but from what I remember, the two are as far apart as night and day. Comme une Evidence EdP is lighter and while the two are clearly siblings, the EdP seemed to me rather forgettable and unremarkable, while the Elixir is rich, voluptuous and unique. Smelling it for the first time, I had this unmistakable sense of recognition hit me. Not because Comme une Evidence smells like anything I have smelled before, but because one whiff of it is enough to transport me to a whole different era of perfumes – an era ranging from the mid 70’s to the end of the 80’s, an era during which so many of the classics I love where created. It came as a bit of a shock, to be honest, to find out it was launched in 2003. This lovely floral chypre has all the elegance, character and yes, integrity of a classic.

The opening is very green and dry, with just a hint of crispness. For the first five minutes or so, a delicious, fruity sourness seems to run through it, smelling not unlike the thin trickle left by the juice of a green, unripe crabapple. Then it subsides and slowly, the greenness unfolds like a large bud, allowing glimpses of the flowers within. Slowly, the lily of the valley and rose are produced, tantalizingly waved under the nose, with the muguet claiming center stage at first, young and fearless. It dances around on the skin like a lithe Fay creature come springtime, so happy it seems to be out and about. The rose at this point seems watery, shy and subtle. And I say seems, for before long the warmth of the skin does its magic and it too emerges, its petals opening up in defiance to the muguet. The two vie for attention for a while and then settle down apparently happy to co-exist for a while inside the arms of the ever-waning freshness. Their green bed is changing character, becoming all the more mature and haughty: A bed of moss permeated by prickly spiciness which seduces the nose with its stylish elegance. Beautiful thorns run through it, like shards of black diamonds and rubies. The defiant rose awakens and reveals it was just biding its time, crushing the lily of the valley under its manicured, clawed fist, helped by the amorous patchouli and moss that embrace it. The patchouli is sheer but potent, matching every bet made by the thorny tentacles of the rose. The scene is savage but entrancing. There’s no mistake: Spring has given way to a furious winter. Indeed, I cannot imagine this perfume being worn in anything but cold weather. So evocative is this scent, my mind has no trouble conjuring countless images when I wear it. But there is one constant image that strikes me each time I smell it. A beautiful tweed suit, the skirt grazing the knees, worn over a magnificent pair of Charles Jourdan pumps - Jourdan from the 70’s or 80’s of course, long before the house became completely unrecognizable in terms of quality and design. If there is one last thing I should add about this fragrance is that it is pure woman. This is a distinction not pertaining to sex, but indeed a distinction separating the women from the girls. This is a perfume for the former.

Images courtesy of: www.look-at.com, http://commons.wikimedia.org and www.apph25.dsl.pipex.com