...at least for this fragrance.
The first time, my expectation of a crisp and dewy rose was instantly betrayed by a non-natural, high-pitched, headache-inducing strong peony which went through a phase of astringent bathroom air-freshener and settled to a soapy and salty musky dry down.
However, when I tried it again after a couple of years, Rose Fraîche surprised me with fresh yet delicate pink petals I could have covered myself with. What had happened to my nose? Anyway, I was happy to use it from spring to early summer as my morning refreshing cologne and never tiring of it.
And then, all of a sudden, it shifted again. After I had even secured some backups, I noticed that it smelt very much the same as in the beginning, or even worse - fruit and citrus translating as a sticky sweet-sourness usurping the much appreciated fresh rose. Combined with the bitterness of woods, it created such an unpleasant, artificially sour staleness on my skin like that of a spoilt canned grapefruit to the extent causing nausea. The fragrance had not even turned since a new bottle had the same effect on me.
Whichever factors were at play for this drastic change in perception - as much as I can tell from the time I actually had liked it, I do agree that Rose Fraîche delivers a fresh, pink rose much closer to peony. It has been likened to The Body Shop's Atlas Mountain Rose and Paul Smith; while I cannot comment on the latter, I do find the citrusy opening of Atlas Mountain Rose the only similarity to Rose Fraîche. The Body Shop version is more rounded and sweet in the base without any bitter sourness.
Even with a lower projection and shorter longevity, I prefer the other rose version. Apparently, the mix of fruit and wood did not work for me.