Safran Troublant opens with an extremely realistic smell of saffron, and I mean the actual ground saffron you can buy at the drugstore, just lightly enhanced by rose and vanilla, both blending with the floral and sweeter sides of saffron. The whole, quite simple ensemble is topped with a nose-tingling spicy note resembling to cumin, a slightly cheaper hint of eugenol (cloves, basically) and an odd, almost random touch that reminds me of a sort of a damp lemongrass-infused tampon - it may sound bizarre, but it works. I think it’s due to rose. Anyway that’s it, a graceful and quite refined blend of thin spices and gentle powdery-sweet accents, with a fascinating sort of subtle, almost transparent texture revolving around the edible heart of saffron. And well, a couple of cheap nuances, but tolerably covered by the good parts. The notes may make it seem a thick Oriental “bomb”, while on the contrary it has more of a British presence – diaphanous and discreet, with a sophisticated sort of camphorous, musky, earthy yet smooth cashmere-suede feel (I think due to saffron) that adds some further elegance to this mannered blend, slightly reminding me of Hermès Cuir d’Ange. I admit this fragrance is fairly pleasant to wear, at least for the first phases of its evolution, but there’s a gigantic flaw I can’t avoid to mention and which sadly, makes Safran Troublant look like (as so many - too many niche scents) a half-baked work: the longevity, which is unacceptably short and really subtle for my tastes. Way too much. Within 20-30 minutes, you already remain with the faint, nondescript drydown it should have after 5 or 6 hours. A time machine in a bottle. Still, one of L’Artisan Parfumeur’s scents I enjoyed the most.