Miyabi Woman by Annayake : Perfume Review & Draw

I’ve got something special for you today, something I’m quite excited about - the first review of Annayake’s newest fragrance, Miyabi! There’s a history of paying attention to this brand here on Fragrance Bouquet and I’m glad to have been able to have access to the perfumes in order to provide you with what I hope is a rather comprehensive picture of the entire line. So, the moment this became available here I procured a small quantity for review.

The news of these new perfumes’ release (one for men and one for women) broke out a while ago, but perhaps a less known fact about them is that their release is a celebratory mark for the brand’s 10-year anniversary. The gorgeous identical bottles (black and silver for him and ivory and gold for her), so elegant and at the same time easy and restful on the eyes, are meant to be a modern interpretation of the inkpot and brush, thus paying homage to the brand’s Japanese identity by evoking the art of calligraphy. The boxes in turn, are meant to evoke fusuma, the sliding rectangular vertical panels that separate interior spaces in traditional Japanese houses. The name -Miyabi- on the other hand, is harder to decipher: often interpreted by westerners as “elegance” or “elegance in beauty”, miyabi is in fact a highly complex construct, heavily influenced by culture. As such, it is very difficult - if not impossible- to offer a satisfactory translation. Without diverging too much from the topic, I will attempt to offer a brief explanation. Miyabi refers most notably to perfection, as in perfection in color, beauty, form and balance. Inherent in this notion however, is always the concept of transience - the passage of time itself. When it comes to a person, miyabi refers to their refinement and specifically their refinement of taste, their ability to discern elegance in everyday objects and to subsequently derive pleasure from them.

Now on to the perfumes themselves. As with most of the masculine perfumes in the Annayake lineup, I have to report that Miyabi Man is, in my opinion subpar. With notes of sandalwood and tonka in the base and sumptuous spices in the heart I imagined this would be a beautiful oriental but unfortunately the experience was that of a generic fresh masculine. Perhaps it is the cucumber freshness of the violet leaves that so put me off in my brief test and perhaps I should give it another try, but reader, I had to scrub this one off fast. Hence my focus only on Miyabi Woman today in any case, which I’ve been testing for a week now and which I am quite enamored with.

In my impression, this is a rather strange perfume in the sense that it does not follow the classic pyramid structure. Top notes for example, seem to be entirely absent: Miyabi instantly plunges the senses in a deep, velvety cocoon of softness. But Miyabi does not fit the bill of a linear perfume either. Its changes, albeit incremental are certainly discernible. Let me diverge for a moment however in order to give you a really good picture of this perfume. When I last visited Paris and had my first encounter with Paris-Moscou, I felt like this was one of the most unique gourmand perfumes I’d ever smelt. I was completely taken (and taken aback) with this incredibly fluffy, soft-as-clouds note that instantly made me think of a marshmallow (click here for my original description). Yes, I am still desperately in love with Paris-Moscou, I still think it is one of the best soft gourmands out there. But… it is not quite as unique as I thought it was. I’d never smelled a Britney Spears perfume till this summer, but something possessed me this past July while waiting at an airport terminal somewhere and I gave her Fantasy a try. Lo and behold, the beautiful marshmallow note, fluffy and sweet. Not nearly as refined as the Guerlain, definitely the drugstore version, but the note was there. Apparently, Guerlain didn’t quite get there first. Fast forward to yet another airport where I smelled Kenzo’s airport exclusive, 5:40 PM In Madagascar. That note again! Please be aware that I am not claiming all these fragrances are twins, just that they all contain this extremely compelling, beautiful new note that suddenly seems to be proliferating and that they all seem to be focused in highlighting it significantly. You obviously see by now where I am going with this… Yes, Miyabi is built around this note. This beautiful, mysterious note that smells of gorgeous whipped vanilla and fluffy, soft marshmallows. For the first hour or so of the development, it is beautifully supported by fragrant peach and an indistinct flowery mélange which is in turn hardened (read: balanced) by smoky cedar. As time goes by, the fragrance mellows as the tonka and ambery base notes come through more distinctively. The volume of the fragrance also drops considerably, radiating more quietly from the skin. Slowly, it transforms to a sweet woody aura, hugging the skin with sandalwood and musk. When considered as part of the lineup, it has to be said that Miyabi diverges considerably from the house style. The rest of the fragrances seem to have a clarity and translucency (even when the type of perfume would not lead you to expect such, e.g. a lactonic gourmand) that this one lacks. However the fact that it incorporates one of my favorite new notes (almost certainly a new aromachemical which produces this mysterious fluffy, vanilla-marshmallow effect) and that it does so elegantly, makes me enamored with it. The end result is a comforting yet peculiar, in other words interesting and delightful at once, at least if you are a gourmand lover. Lovers of Kenzo’s Amour and 5:40 PM In Madagascar and fans of Guerlain’s Paris-Moscou should definitely give this one a try.

Annayake has a rather limited distribution and never even makes it to certain countries such as the US, so I am offering a sample draw. If you are interested, simply leave a comment and you’ll be automatically included. Winner to be announced in a week’s time, next Wednesday.

Images: Fusama screens via Wikipedia and marshmallows via Flickr by John-Morgan

Fragrance Bouquet’s Top 5 for Fall

What are you wearing this fall? Fragrance Bouquet and For the Love of Perfume are sharing their Autumnal loves for 2007 today. Are you going to stay and share your own loves with us? Have you brought out the big guns already? I am talking about the spices, of course! I’ll admit, I never really put them away – there’s always going to be a day when I need some spice in my life, even if it’s during high summer! Fall to me though, is all about woods and amber. Lovely warm notes that will ease me into winter and comfort me as the weather gets progressively colder. Now, without further ado, my personal top 5:

• 5. Sequoia 7 by Dawn Spencer Hurwitz
  It is worth to wait through the slightly shocking opening: the reward is finding one of the most beautiful wood-scents. A deeply satisfying soft, subtle and slightly aloof wood fragrance, that dries down to an unexpected smoky, incense-like clove. It is resilience against the winds of Fall; it is walking in a space of personal calm while the startlingly beautiful dry leaves swivel around, unable to fly any closer.



• 4. Palisander by Ava Luxe
  The thirst of the rich, dark soil quenched by rain. The golden brown leaves that will feed the trees that once bore them. A barefoot dance on the soft earth under a silver sky that hasn’t seen the sun in days. And then night-time, dark desires, bewitching female mysteries. The smell of heat. This has become a firm favorite, possibly the sexiest autumnal scent I have reviewed. Wearing it makes me just a bit more daring, as though I’m wearing pheromones. (For a full review click here)



• 3. Ambre Précieux by Maitre Parfumeur et Gantier
  Luxurious and warm, this is one of the most exquisite amber scents I know. Myrrh and myrtle, amber, precious balsams and resins and just a little bit of nutmeg to tamper the already gentle vanillic undertones, this fragrance smells as good as the notes sound. It is at once a warm embrace and a sway of the hips to a mystic melody of the east. Close your eyes and enjoy. Need I say more?



• 2. Miyako by Annayake
  You already know I love this! Ever since I bought it, it has been the perfume I turn to every time I need comfort. It does not cheer me up, it just hugs me, soothes me, helps me get on with things. Incense, resin, wood and amber infused with a soft milky accord and the peculiar, lovely sweetness I couldn’t possibly describe in a different way than I did in my original review: “(...) rather curious, reminding me of the subtly sweet and oh-so-comforting warm air one finds in a house, after a full day of baking spiced goods made of lovingly kneaded dough.” (For a full review click here)



• 1. Tsukimi by Annayake
  The loveliest autumn scent for me - I can’t do without it. Wearing it, I feel I’m bathed in gold, my forehead anointed with the most precious essences. Tsukimi’s effulgent aurora is as kind and mellow as the sun of autumn. (For a full review click here)

Autumn Don’ts: Or rather “Autumn don’t–even-think-about-its!”. I should have known better – I’ve yet to find a Van Cleef & Arpels fragrance I like- but for the sake of ...autumnal research I thought I’d get a sample of their Autumne scent, from their Les Saisons series. The notes sounded vaguely attractive, although far from special and the opening was agreeable enough. And then... disaster. Autumne smells like the chemicals of an epilating cream! This is not just an Autumn don’t – it is plainly a perfume don’t!

Images courtesy of www.freefoto.com

Miyako by Annayake: Perfume Review

Back in May, I decided to write a week long feature here on Fragrance Bouquet, reviewing the female fragrances of the Annayake line. Those of you that followed it, might remember that I was at the time unable to get my hands on either Miyako, or Matsuri. I hate to leave things incomplete, so I set out to try and find both, so that I would have a complete picture of the fragrance line. Matsuri, I must admit, was easy to come across after all. I just had not looked hard –or well enough. I decided to not write about it because I was bitterly disappointed by it. As I have mentioned before, I do not always manage to get along with patchouli, especially when it claims center stage, muting everything else for my senses. Matsuri is unfortunately one such perfume: all I could smell and all I could think of was “Patchouli” and a rather flat one at that. L’Inspiratrice, it ain’t.

Miyako, a limited edition perfume, was much harder to find. A couple of months later though, I am happy to say I finally own a bottle. From the wonderful fragrance itself, to the beautiful sliding-doors box that houses it, my latest purchase has already given me much joy already. The very first time I wore it, a friend commented, “Mmm, what is this? Is it something Asian?” The remark obviously made me chuckle, for indeed, even if it wasn’t exactly a description of “...the fragrant air of the court of the Golden Pavilion, mythical temple in the Land of the Rising Sun...” (quote, Miyako box), Miyako had nevertheless managed to be instantaneously recognizable as a fragrance inspired by the Far East.

The sweetness of Miyako is rather curious, reminding me of the subtly sweet and oh-so-comforting warm air one finds in a house, after a full day of baking spiced goods made of lovingly kneaded dough. Its opening briefly tickles my nose with an ephemeral pepperiness that quickly subsides, giving way to the pungency of a prominent cardamom rubbed on cinnamon bark. There is something about the early stages of Miyako that I find intensely familiar, yet putting my finger on the fleeting memory that it rouses proved quite difficult – perhaps because I expected all my associations with the fragrance to be of an Oriental nature. Finally, it came to me, a couple of days ago: it is the mingling of frankincense and myrrh, combined with the smell of polished, waxed wood one encounters when finding refuge in the cool, lonely interior of a Greek Orthodox church during summertime. The smell of pine I get at this stage, also conspires to bring this memory forward, since it is not unusual for a church to be surrounded by pine (or other coniferous trees), and the resinous, fresh smell wafts generously inside through the open windows. I was perplexed to smell pine in Miyako – not only is it not listed as a note, but it seemed to me incongruous with a fragrance meant to allude to Japanese temples and Kodo, the Japanese incense ceremony. But after researching Kodo a bit further, I found that pine incense is indeed commonly used for the ceremony, so my nose must not have been playing tricks on me after all. While on the subject of listed notes, I must admit that despite the fact that several floral notes are listed as part of the composition, they remain virtually undetected by my nose. Rose is a possible exception: it suddenly blooms when the scent warms well on the skin. Even so, I doubt I would have identified it had I not been looking for it. But I do not lament the lack of a prominent floral bouquet, quite the contrary. Instead, I much prefer what I do find in the blend: there is the refined, dry, coniferous smell of cedar, the patchouli, which in this instance manages to be sparkling, the voluptuous, powdery sandalwood. And all of this is gently enveloped in the golden embrace of musk and amber, whose warmth and sense of comfort I cannot possibly begin to describe. This positively glowing coziness, my perception of a certain milky accord (which I love) and the somewhat powdery drydown, make me identify Miyako as one of most tender, restorative and comforting fragrances I own. I know it can be quite annoying to read a review of something that is hard to find and sniff for yourself, and since this limited edition fragrance is a little difficult to find (unless you wish to order a full bottle off ebay, of course), I wish to share some with you. If you post a comment on this review, I will automatically enter you in a drawing for a sample of Miyako, unless you explicitly state that you do not want to be entered, but just wished to comment. I will announce the winner on Monday evening.

Images:
Print: www.eso-garden.com
Senso Temple: incense burner. [Photograph]. Retrieved July 18, 2007, from Encyclopædia Britannica Online: http://www.britannica.com/ebc/art-642
Kodo Set: www.japan-zone.com

Annayake pour Elle by Annayake : Perfume Review

Finally the time has come for the last installment of my Annayake feature. Even though we have moved away from the seasons, Annayake pour Elle is to me a quintessentially summery scent. In fact, I would be more than happy to replace Natsumi in the seasonal cycle with Annayake pour Elle. This is possibly the strangest fragrance in the line: never has my mind been filled with so many negative illustrative adjectives for something that I am so deeply attracted to. How can I describe this perfume while avoiding to use those words for fear I’ll do it injustice? I can but try.

My advice is to approach this fragrance with an open mind, to let your senses experience it with lack of judgment and expectations, for it so unconventional, so interesting and unique it does deserve attention -even though it is so far removed from what we expect a perfume to smell like. It is a scent that, to me, personifies solitude without a trace of loneliness. It makes every other presence remote, as though I am suddenly the only inhabitant of the world, left alone in a beautiful marshland with no knowledge of my state of solitude, for I feel no pain. The opening notes are astringently herbal, medicinal. They impart a bitterness I can almost taste in the back of my throat. It is not a fleeting bitterness either, it will stay with me long after, until the perfume fades. Am I strange for enjoying this? Perhaps, but it is not a theme previously left unexplored: those of you who adore the similarly strange and bitter Cerruti 1881 like I do, will find a great friend in Annayake pour Elle.

Bergamot and fig milk, mix with the fennel-like smell of elemi, transporting me with ease to a summer afternoon. Insects are buzzing all around me but dare not come close – I’ve become a poison. Trees surround me, their leaves whisper in the breeze that makes my hair sway gently against my bare shoulders. I am clad in attire I’ve never worn, a linen shift and espadrille shoes. My skin smells of strong, dark tea, spiked with lavender. Golden brown with light blue, warm and cool together - the color combination nature prefers best. And yet more blue, a sacred blue lily there in the broiling tea pond. I pick it and fasten it behind my ear. I’ll need no other jewels; I am wearing the medium of a Sun God in my hair. Its aroma fills the air with a distinctive banana scent that further enhances the tranquility I feel. Equilibrium, peace and liquefied inner strength flow inside my chest. Is it ichor inside my veins, poisonous to mortals? I have been misted with the essence of eternal youth. I’d drink it greedily, but the gods have been wise in preventing hubris and insolence by making it so bitter.


Image of lily pond by Lida Rose, sourced from Flickr.com
Image of Sacred Blue Lily, courtesy of k43.pbase.com
Image of Nefertiti with sacred blue lily sourced from www.geocities.com/SoHo/ Nook/7916/Nefertiti.html

Yukimi by Annayake : Perfume Review

When I was a child, time seemed to stand still. Each season was endless, each year lasted a decade. As I grow older, seasons seem to come and go in the most fleeting of manner, each one melding quickly into the next, a year gone in the blink of an eye. So have the seasons of Annayake passed before our eyes and we have invariably arrived to the last one, the longest stretch of the year, Winter.

Yukimi means “snowviewing”, and once again, the name bestowed upon this fragrance fits the composition wonderfully. I’ve never experienced coolness and warmth blending at once with such effortlessness, with no sense of dissonance whatsoever. And what is perhaps most curious is the overwhelming sense of quietness and stillness that this fragrance delivers.
It is the same sense of quietness I experience when I wake up in the morning with the unwavering certainty that it has snowed the night before, for every single sound in nature is eerily muffled. I love mint in fragrances, and its addition in Yukimi is utter perfection, boldly announcing crisp cool winds and steely light. The fruit in the blend quickly brings me back inside the warmth of the house, where mother is throwing rinds of mandarin oranges and peels of apples in the lit fireplace, thereby scenting the air with festive aromas. Cool musks, cedar and soft powder, enveloped by the warmest of amber, enfold me in a bubble no sound can fully penetrate. They form a safe cocoon, offering protection from over-stimulation and the demands of adulthood. Time stands still again, affording me the luxury of reflection.

The woman that will gladly dance among the falling snowflakes, the woman this perfume is meant for, is rare, uncustomary. She is a self-assured innovator. It is not by chance that my mind places her dancing in winter wonderland. Even though she is a grown up, her essence is that of a child. She sparkles, full of joie de vivre. For her, time will still bend, making every season last a lifetime, just so she can suck every single drop of life out of every single day. When snow falls, she’ll still try to catch snowflakes on her tongue. When she goes to bathe in a hot spring up on the hill, she hopes to encounter macaque monkeys, completely unafraid. When she walks home at night, she’ll stop to marvel at the light twinkling inside the stone snow-viewing lanterns, yukimi-gata – even though she has seen them countless times before. Her laughter is crystaline and clear, like snow melting on the first days of spring. Her perfume of choice is subdued, to counter and contrast her playful character. Her perfume is that of innocence and clarity, quiet happiness and sweetness. She chooses something that blurs the lines between her own sweet skin’s scent and the perfume itself. She chooses Yukimi, scenting her neck with a childhood her body has outgrown.

Pictures courtesy of: www.japaneselifestyle.com.au, www.japonia.org and www.hikejapan.com

Natsumi by Annayake : Perfume Review

As I have already indicated, I started this Annayake week because I fell in love with Hanami, Tsukimi and Annayake pour Elle, and it was only those fragrances that I was initially planning to review. After I started writing the feature though, it seemed like such a shame to leave Natsumi and Yukimi out, to leave things incomplete, even though admittedly, I have not become enamored with them in the way I have with the rest. Today and tomorrow then, we shall visit summer and winter; together we will complete our walk through the seasons of Annayake.

Natsumi is the fragrance of summer, and once again the name is indicative of the period the scent embodies. Natsumi means “beautiful summer” but the word can also be derivative of a verb, meaning “to pluck vegetables and greens”, creating a clever and thoughtful play with words, as the fragrance is identified as both vegetal and fruity. It represents a woman that is well organized and traditional.

I wanted to be transported to a summer festival with this perfume. I wanted to watch koi glistening in the bursts of light cast by fireworks. I wanted to smell the lightweight cotton of the summer kimonos, the yukata, blue and white, decorated with patterns of dragonflies or cranes. Instead, I find myself sprayed by light summer rain, high upon a mountaintop, lush and green. A burst of watermelon, it strikes my head like a red, juicy exclamation mark. “Why?!” I lament, and for a moment a child laughs giddily, reminding me that Japanese summer wouldn’t be the same without the traditional custom of splitting watermelons blindfolded at the beach, much like a crazy piñata game. I nod in understanding, but I am still baffled, for there is no sand beneath my feet, my toes are still protesting the wet feel of grass. It is chilly, so high on the mountains, I need a light cardigan. Mist surrounds the green peaks, everything is cool and fresh. The light is diffused by the summer clouds, but if I look down, shading my eyes out of habit, I see the cultivated fields, caressed by the sun. They are filled by ripe, blushing tomatoes, the sappy scent of their vines somehow wafts all the way up here.

Just as I am starting to enjoy all this, the scenery fades, like a dream. I am left on a disappointingly well-trodden path, visited countless times before. White roses, pure and mild, ylang-ylang softer than I know it. My hands sticky from the staple fruit of summer, peach. A holy trinity to which I’ve prayed to before, in temples better suited for worship. I’ll take a photo, but I won’t be coming back.

Pictures courtesy of: www.instylemoms.com, www.shizuoka-guide.com and www.monkeybriefs.com

Tsukimi by Annayake : Perfume Review

Since I promised to start with Hanami and Tsukimi, I will unorthodoxly suspend a review of the second seasonal fragrance, Natsumi, to write about Tsukimi. The third fragrance in the seasonal quartet of the Annayake fragrance line, Tsukimi, means Moon Viewing. It embodies the spirit of autumn and is meant to represent a woman who is radiant, devoted to tradition and family. This characterization might sound a bit archaic to western, individualistic societies, but this is most certainly not how it would be viewed in the Japanese collectivist culture. Keeping with tradition, Japanese tradition specifically, is a great virtue, and such a woman will be revered, like a precious flower that is never to be sullied, corrupted by unworthy elements. She will be the most attractive ray of light, sought after like a rare, incandescent jewel. She is the woman with the magical ability to bring out the best in the most contemptible of men; she is the bringer of redemption. Her radiance is an eternal, ever-giving spring. Everything she comes into contact with will be blessed by her virtue and beauty, enabled to shine a bit brighter each time for it came to be in the presence of her unyieldingly pure kindness.

Annayake places this woman in the setting of the Harvest Moon. Moonviewing, just as Hanami, flowerviewing, is a tradition that originated in China and was embraced by the Japanese court initially, before spreading to the masses during the Edo era. It is the time of year when farmers harvest the last crops and offer thanks to the moon. It is the time of year to come together with family, friends and loved ones to admire the beauty of the moon, to put seasonal offerings next to the moonlit window and to celebrate togetherness under the silvery lunar rays. The Tsukimi woman will go meet her lover on a hill, to hold his awaiting hand, to bathe in the moon’s light with him under the starry sky. She will be the joy of her family, an emblem of the continuation of tradition. A tradition that might be sadly, slowly fading.

Tsukimi reminds me in many ways of Féminité du Bois by Shisheido, which is not very surprising since they share a lot of the same notes. But having smelled Tsukimi, Féminité du Bois now almost seems aggressive and harsh. The top citrusy notes fly off quickly and leave the skin enveloped in the intensely woody, ambery veil of the fragrance. There is also the scent of lovely, smoky incense there, making the experience all the more interesting. Cumin haters beware, for this is a note that plays a prominent role in this perfume. It blends marvelously with cinnamon, sunflower, violet and precious woods, in a manner that makes me think of fine, viscous oils of anointment. Despite the intense notes, the overall feel of Tsukimi is that of calm sweetness, warm, effusively graceful and heart-achingly nostalgic. It stays relatively close to the skin, making one gently emanate a softly perfumed, filmy aura, like the golden body of a saint, streaming myrrh.

Pictures courtesy of: wikimedia.org, yuanryan.ld.infoseek.co.jp and www.saryou-sakura.com

Hanami by Annayake : Perfume Review

“We carry the perfumes of Annayaké exclusively” the kindly sales assistant informed me when I inquired about them, taking extra care to raise her tone of voice slightly to accentuate the last vowel with the correct intonation after I had mistakenly pronounced it in a rather western manner. She was right of course. I do not know why I did not think of it myself. Perhaps it was out of force of habit, I had been mispronouncing the brand name for a couple of years already, ever since I started using the Annayake Ultratime skincare line for my face. I have since switched to Kanebo, which I also tend to mispronounce, accentuating the word as it would be verbalized in Dutch. Old habits die hard. In any case, I left the shop happy, with samples of all the Annayake perfumes they carried and have been testing them for the last two weeks. The homogeneity of the flacons had me in doubt of the perfumes’ uniqueness; I had enough trouble remembering which perfume was which due to the lack of any contrast other than the jus colors. But I needn’t have worried: I am thoroughly impressed. As promised, I will focus on my three favorites this week, Annayake pour Elle, Hanami and Tsukimi. It now seems a shame to leave things unfinished, so I will try to extend the reviews with the additions of Yukimi and Natsumi as well, if there is enough interest for them. I have unfortunately not been able to find Matsuri as of yet. It is a great shame, for that would help me finish the circle of the feminine fragrances in the Annayake line. For a great review on Miyako, a limited edition eau de parfum I have not had the fortune to come across, please check Colombina’s review.

Hanami, Natsumi, Tsukimi and Yukimi each represent a different season of the year, and each is meant to be a manifestation of a certain female personality, mirroring and accentuating her character. Hanami, the first of the four fragrances, is an expression of spring – time of awakening and rebirth, and the personality it represents is that of a positive, optimistic and dynamic woman. The word “hanami” literally means “flower viewing”, a centuries old customary spring activity undertaken all over Japan during the spring months. The flower most closely associated with Hanami is the cherry blossom, or Sakura, as it is called in Japan. At this point I should probably confess that I am a great fan of anime and manga. Considering most well-known Japanese festivals and celebrations feature quite heavily in both, there is no lack of mental imagery in my mind for Hanami: a female voice will wistfully gasp “Sakura!” while a couple walks down a lane lined on either side by cherry trees in bloom, petals falling and whirling madly around them, not unlike snow. Businessmen will demurely walk out of their office buildings at lunchtime, only to be seduced by the glory of nature around them and they will find themselves instinctively loosening the tight knots of their ties. Hanging lanterns will sway in the breeze come evening, gently lighting the laughing faces of the people reclining on blankets under the splendor of the blooming trees. Romance is in the air, palpable and energetic.

There couldn’t have been a better representation of spring in a perfume than what Annayake has put on offer with Hanami. The first whiff is that of dew on velvety petals, just unfurled in the light of dawn; morning dew in an endless field of green, moist, fresh, veracious. All the moisture contained in wonderful fleshy petals trying to seep out of their satiny pores. Amazingly, what initially starts out quite shy and cool suddenly intensifies on the skin, like nature resolutely blooming all at once. Freesia, muguet and cherry blossom fuse together bewitchingly, leaving me utterly captivated. These are the truest flowers I’ve ever smelled in a bottle. I cannot describe Hanami as a complicated fragrance, but this is by far no criticism: it is the form and essence of spring, encapsulated. It needs nothing more, it is perfect as is. Hanami is neither old-fashioned nor modern; it is simply timeless, ageless. Moreover, all that is needed to create wonderful sillage are a few drops. It is a perfume that gives and gives, enveloping the wearer in the most beautiful blend of flowers all day long.

Pictures courtesy of tanuki.org.uk, www.ekakiya.jp, www.search.com and foto.muri.se respectively.