I would like to have an infinite number of perfumes, one for each moment of the day. I want to wake up in the morning and sprinkle myself with what I think may represent my mood, more, and I wish that others around, smelling my perfume, could somehow imagine how I feel, could have an image of me, feel mine sensations. Am I asking too much? Maybe yes, but that’s what I want from perfume, and that’s why I never have just one. And even on the same day, the scent I put on in the morning, probably in the evening, no longer suits me. This morning, a lazy, foggy Sunday in April, I woke up to the addition of tuberose. And Gucci Bloom worked my desire perfectly.
I admit, my fault; I only recently discovered the fascination of the tuberose flower since I started ignoring the genus. As an ignorant man, I have always dedicated myself to perfumes intended for a male audience who, for some unknown reason, does not include this beautiful flower in their blend. There are perfumes like Bvlgari Man in Black that contain it, but they don’t give it the proper emphasis as in fragrances intended for a female audience. An exception is Zara’s recent releases, Bois Soleil Men, where the sensual flower plays an important role.
Bloom is a floral bomb but not a complex fragrance. It is a melange of flowers to create a bohemian bouquet that treads the razor’s edge between vintage and modern, the smell of the backyard at night. Bloom has a unique packaging that immediately captured me, a linear bottle with a lacquered surface and the pale pink color of porcelain. It’s like a box of face powder. Brilliant, delicate, but so wonderfully magical. And Bloom’s powdery note was an emotion, a velvety but not crushed sensation, immersed in the enveloping tuberose and jasmine that makes everything fresh and tender. It is the perfume that is revealed little by little after the first most powerful note. Bloom is therefore not an immediate perfume but one that reveals itself with grace, caution, and freshness. And it puts the spotlight on tuberose, enriching it with jasmine and honeysuckle. Everything is fresh, with the right amount of “sweet,” the right amount of “green.”
The scent unfolds directly with a dry and flowery bouquet. It’s purely a white floral blend, but rather than edgy or jarring, it’s delicately understated and sweet. There are no notes of Hesperides or aldehydes. The first notes are divine: pure white flowers, no fruit, no citrus, no sweet notes—just like diving into a flower bush. And this sets this fragrance apart from the multitude of floral scents currently on the shelves. The creamy tuberose hit with all its splendor explodes. It is a diva, rich, sour, bitter, a touch of waxy, camphor, simply delicious. A touch of bitterness makes me think of lily-of-the-valley.
The heart is and remains a floral mix; soon, the dewy white jasmine blooms. Rich, the bud is in the background, and there is something greenish, a green element of foliage with even a hint of undergrowth. The more it grows, the greener it becomes. Jasmine peeps out from time to time but remains docile and is not indolic. Sweet but not sickly, just like pouring a drop of honey on the bud, sharp but not annoying, noisy but not disturbing. Presumably, it’s because of the tuberose, but I seem to get a gardenia-like shade. It reminds me of walking in a garden of white jasmine, gardenias, and tuberoses that bloom right after the rain, with the warm breeze hitting my face. There is a light powder that could be an iris or a soft orris mixed with something like violet leaves, but it’s probably just one aspect of the Chinese honeysuckle.
The last stage adds a honeysuckle-like aroma, which is probably the added element of the Rangoon Creeper. I love the scent of honeysuckle, mine is the common white and yellow one, and every time it blooms on my terrace, I feel happy, so maybe that’s another reason why I love Bloom. It is the sweetest component in the development of this floral cluster, but it is a civil and lovable sweetness, which is never unpleasant, intrusive, or cloying. The base is a little powdery and balsamic, with a musky undertone but still rich in tuberose. There is a soapy atmosphere, not a classic soap scent, somewhat the characteristic fragrance of Marseille soap.
It is fresh and gentle with a dreamy and diaphanous sillage and scents like a bouquet of white petals through and through but has a persistent and ubiquitous creamy undertone that never allows it to be too floral or too sweet. Indeed, linear, while the subtle undertones change over time, but the scent doesn’t need to change much when it’s interesting enough to begin with. Like a memorable painted portrait, it has a face that you can perceive again and again and see it a little differently every time. To some, it will seem too linear and without notes, but in reality, on the skin, it has enough facets not to be boring, and at the same time, it is straightforward to overlap with other perfumes. It is a clean floral scent, slightly soapy, not too sweet, relatively modest. It is an elegant floral. Brunch with friends, spring office work, a date for a summer dinner - the scent is versatile and will blend well for many occasions. Bloom falls firmly into the non-indolic realm. You’ll never find that buttery fatness that is off-putting at times.
I based the review on a 100 ml bottle I own since January 2021.