Top Notes 
Heart Notes 
Base Notes 
11/24/2020
FvSpee
249 Reviews
Translated
Show original
FvSpee
Top Review
53
The Interdict
This wonderfully feminine fragrance L'Interdit (Intense) has come to my attention, just as it should, through three very esteemed ladies.
First of all, a month ago Runa (I'm always happy about your great photos and refreshing texts - I'm glad you're here!) wrote a passionate 10 (or 12) point commentary here. Next, two weeks ago, Edda (you know I'm a fan of you and your haiku statements!) posted an almost as enthusiastic review here. And last Friday, my dear favorite colleague handed me a sample of the fragrance she got for free at the perfumery, with the remark: "For your exchange box. It only gives you a headache." That makes you curious
I come later to the actual scent and sneak first over the Akzidentialia. The fragrance is not called "Interdit" (forbidden) but "L'Interdit", which is the more exciting and ambiguous name. "L'Interdit" can also be the Interdikt, a mild form of the church ban (as punishment for crime or heresy). Even if this is probably not meant, for the French listener this meaning is surely unconsciously resonating. The main meaning is "ban", but also "taboo". I find the name quite appropriate for this exciting, somnambulistically elegant scent dancing on the edge of a knife.
The perfumers also make people sit up and take notice. Dominique Ropion is one of the greats, and he has often worked with Anne Flipo. As co-productions, they have created such famous (and heterogeneous) fragrances as Acqua di Gioia, Invictus and Lady Million. Without Anne Flipo, he is responsible for vast amounts of other mainstream and niche fragrances, from Krazy Krizia, La Vie Est Belle and Alien EdP to Portrait of a Lady, Oud Malaki and Vetiver Extraordinaire. Flipo in turn has created the highly interesting La Chasse aux Papillons. Fanny Bal comes in third here. The funny thing is that Acqua di Gioia is one of the favourite fragrances of my favourite colleague...
The marketing color of this fragrance is black, and this sets a wrong track. Because the scent impression is not. Because emotionally it is not a gloomy scent, but rather awake and perhaps erotically tense, but at the same time flattering, soothing and even comforting. Synesthetically I perceive the fragrance as a multi-toned grey and brown, a symphony in anthracite, ash, ochre, sienna, chamois and sepia.
To me, L'Interdit is very tightly and densely woven, like a fabric that is warm and gives security, never tearing, and yet is at the same time soft and light. On the whole, L'Interdit Intense is noble but unpretentious; sensual but cool; material to the point of edibility, but at the same time distanced and pictorial.
On fabric, this "ban" unfolds in a somewhat tart, almost green, almost fruity direction, I have to think of Creed's vetiver original, but softer, saffron-like.
On my skin I perceive a completely different scent (and the question remains open for me what the overall impression would be if I accompanied a lady who had applied the scent to her skin and clothing). Here I perceive the scent as being layered, like a puff pastry or a geological formation, whereby the individual layers, in the ochre and grey tones described above, play with the viewer like a picture puzzle:
There are, after an unmistakable, highly distinctive opening, which evokes a memory in me, but which I can't get hold of, very slightly sweet lines, powdery-floury, cocoa, or rather soy flour, which then lose their sweetness and yet are perhaps crushed clay. There is a tingling, clear, subtle spiciness, a grey dry crackling, which then glides out again velvety on soft skin. There are far, far away inklings of a soft saffiano leather, which, as soon as you want to grasp it, turn into bitter chocolate.
Without doubt, the fragrance has a strong flowery side. At times, it seems dense and heavy, lilac and hyacinths come to mind. But perfumers manage to break through and lighten this heaviness in such a way that L'Interdit Intense never seems oppressive or old-fashioned, but innovative and light for all its cosiness. The scent of roasted sesame oil, which I know well, I am not able to perceive, but a wonderful soft benzoin-like nasal tickling.
The durability and projection is quite striking, but surprisingly reserved for an "Intense" fragrance. This fits in well with the essence of the fragrance, which is intense and lively, but doesn't bluster drunk in the streets; it's emotional, but also clear and precise; mysterious, but not confused. I love such ambiguous, non-determined scents.
At the moment I have a generous phase in the scoring process, which is reflected in the fact that, contrary to my usual practice, I sometimes raise old ratings a bit. So maybe 9.5 is a little bit due to the enthusiasm of the moment. But an unusually beautiful fragrance it is, without question
Whether L'Interdit is one of the women's fragrances I could imagine on myself, I do not know yet. The idea doesn't seem completely absurd to me, but for the time being I would like to leave it entirely to the beautiful ladies of my virtual and real environment. With the exception of my favourite colleague, whom I would of course wish anything but headaches.
First of all, a month ago Runa (I'm always happy about your great photos and refreshing texts - I'm glad you're here!) wrote a passionate 10 (or 12) point commentary here. Next, two weeks ago, Edda (you know I'm a fan of you and your haiku statements!) posted an almost as enthusiastic review here. And last Friday, my dear favorite colleague handed me a sample of the fragrance she got for free at the perfumery, with the remark: "For your exchange box. It only gives you a headache." That makes you curious
I come later to the actual scent and sneak first over the Akzidentialia. The fragrance is not called "Interdit" (forbidden) but "L'Interdit", which is the more exciting and ambiguous name. "L'Interdit" can also be the Interdikt, a mild form of the church ban (as punishment for crime or heresy). Even if this is probably not meant, for the French listener this meaning is surely unconsciously resonating. The main meaning is "ban", but also "taboo". I find the name quite appropriate for this exciting, somnambulistically elegant scent dancing on the edge of a knife.
The perfumers also make people sit up and take notice. Dominique Ropion is one of the greats, and he has often worked with Anne Flipo. As co-productions, they have created such famous (and heterogeneous) fragrances as Acqua di Gioia, Invictus and Lady Million. Without Anne Flipo, he is responsible for vast amounts of other mainstream and niche fragrances, from Krazy Krizia, La Vie Est Belle and Alien EdP to Portrait of a Lady, Oud Malaki and Vetiver Extraordinaire. Flipo in turn has created the highly interesting La Chasse aux Papillons. Fanny Bal comes in third here. The funny thing is that Acqua di Gioia is one of the favourite fragrances of my favourite colleague...
The marketing color of this fragrance is black, and this sets a wrong track. Because the scent impression is not. Because emotionally it is not a gloomy scent, but rather awake and perhaps erotically tense, but at the same time flattering, soothing and even comforting. Synesthetically I perceive the fragrance as a multi-toned grey and brown, a symphony in anthracite, ash, ochre, sienna, chamois and sepia.
To me, L'Interdit is very tightly and densely woven, like a fabric that is warm and gives security, never tearing, and yet is at the same time soft and light. On the whole, L'Interdit Intense is noble but unpretentious; sensual but cool; material to the point of edibility, but at the same time distanced and pictorial.
On fabric, this "ban" unfolds in a somewhat tart, almost green, almost fruity direction, I have to think of Creed's vetiver original, but softer, saffron-like.
On my skin I perceive a completely different scent (and the question remains open for me what the overall impression would be if I accompanied a lady who had applied the scent to her skin and clothing). Here I perceive the scent as being layered, like a puff pastry or a geological formation, whereby the individual layers, in the ochre and grey tones described above, play with the viewer like a picture puzzle:
There are, after an unmistakable, highly distinctive opening, which evokes a memory in me, but which I can't get hold of, very slightly sweet lines, powdery-floury, cocoa, or rather soy flour, which then lose their sweetness and yet are perhaps crushed clay. There is a tingling, clear, subtle spiciness, a grey dry crackling, which then glides out again velvety on soft skin. There are far, far away inklings of a soft saffiano leather, which, as soon as you want to grasp it, turn into bitter chocolate.
Without doubt, the fragrance has a strong flowery side. At times, it seems dense and heavy, lilac and hyacinths come to mind. But perfumers manage to break through and lighten this heaviness in such a way that L'Interdit Intense never seems oppressive or old-fashioned, but innovative and light for all its cosiness. The scent of roasted sesame oil, which I know well, I am not able to perceive, but a wonderful soft benzoin-like nasal tickling.
The durability and projection is quite striking, but surprisingly reserved for an "Intense" fragrance. This fits in well with the essence of the fragrance, which is intense and lively, but doesn't bluster drunk in the streets; it's emotional, but also clear and precise; mysterious, but not confused. I love such ambiguous, non-determined scents.
At the moment I have a generous phase in the scoring process, which is reflected in the fact that, contrary to my usual practice, I sometimes raise old ratings a bit. So maybe 9.5 is a little bit due to the enthusiasm of the moment. But an unusually beautiful fragrance it is, without question
Whether L'Interdit is one of the women's fragrances I could imagine on myself, I do not know yet. The idea doesn't seem completely absurd to me, but for the time being I would like to leave it entirely to the beautiful ladies of my virtual and real environment. With the exception of my favourite colleague, whom I would of course wish anything but headaches.
26 Comments
