Like the wonderful "Grand Soir", I smelled this fragrance for the first time in my unforgettable year in Paris, and, also like the king of amber fragrances, there is a nice little anecdote from the city of love. But in turn...
We write the winter of 2019. Any virus was far away, cold and dark it was nevertheless in the French capital. At the end of November of said year, a then 19-year-old German lad, lacking social contacts, set out on one of his countless perfume tours through all quartiers and arrondissements. But this time, instead of his usual rummaging around the much-loved little boutiques like the beautiful "Nose" in the second or the Parfums de Marly boutique near the Tuilieries, he thought bigger. Christmas was coming, and perhaps that conscience was drawing him to the beauty section of Galeries Lafayette for the second time. He took the RER to "Auber", threw himself into the early pre-Christmas fray and took the escalator up to the second floor. Arriving in an olfactory paradise, he didn't know where to put his eyes at first. Parfums de Marly? He knew them all. Creed? Not his cup of tea. Stephane Humbert Lucas? Wonderful fragrances, but too expensive. So he tested his way through the Le Labo counter, and when he couldn't find anything usable there apart from the top dog Bergamotte 22, he decided to turn once again to the works of art of Monsieur Francis Kurkdjian.
At the Grand Soir, he stopped short, paused, and smiled briefly. He didn't need to test it. He knew enough (See review of "Grand Soir" by me). So he walked on and stopped at the then newest scents, a fragrance double pack. Immediately, a dutiful salesman jumped up and introduced him to the bottles as twin "Gentle fluidity" scents; a gold, more feminine, and a silver, more masculine version. The young man, who is not usually ruffled by aggressive salesman hyenas, tested both fragrances to feed the predator.
The gold edition was indeed too feminine for him, he paused at the silver one. "Stop. Wait a minute. Haven't I smelled this scent fifty million times? Don't I know it?" These questions circulated in his head as he turned away to turn his attention to other scents. But he failed. "Gentle fluidity silver" on the MFK test card asked him a thousand questions he didn't know the answer to. He was nervous, didn't know where to put himself. So he walked out of the scent paradise onto the bustling Boulevard Haussmann, entered the metro station, and was about to board the train home when he encountered the scent again. Not on a test strip, but on a live man. A six-foot-five, colored, French man in his mid-forties, to be exact. In a navy blue suit and gray coat, he stood there, waiting for the train, oblivious to the effect he was having on the 19-year-old boy. He was certain: this man was wearing Gentle fluidity silver by Maison Francis Kurkdjian, no doubt about it. And not only that... he wears it well. He wears it confidently. He wears it uncomplicated. He wears it suavely. He wears it at ease. He wears it a little more arrogantly and eloquently than everyone else. He wears it the way it should be worn. Gentlemanly...
I'd like to abbreviate my story here. Our protagonist stormed back into Galeries Lafayette that very late afternoon to purchase, for not-so-little money, a silver-white, 75-ml bottle of the fragrance we're discussing here. To this day, he has not regretted it. Why?
Because this fragrance is so little, but at the same time so much. He comes unspectacular, dishonest and without much trara therefore. He does not wear thick on, keeps a low profile, and knows with understatement to convince. Which impression it makes nevertheless with those, which go into its haze, I described above sufficiently. For me it is THE everyday fragrance. Period. A fresh-woody, yet somehow in its own way subtle-attractive always walker. Whether him office, at dinner or with his children while watching movies on the couch; the situation where "Gentle fluidity silver" does not fit, has yet to be invented.
Chapeau, Monsieur Kurkdjian, for a fragrance that is the definition of wearability. Spray it on twice, walk away, and live your life. It doesn't get any more uncomplicated than that.
GFS