I know Jean-Claude Ellena is a regular reader of this blog (OK, that is, of course, not true, but wouldn’t it be cool if it was, and throw this out in your face with fake casualness?), so I’m sure he’ll understand, after all, his Declaration is my favourite perfume.

OK I’ll say it in one single breath: Un Jardin Sur Le Nil and my skin just don’t go well together. The mango is not fresh, not green, it was left on a sun-beaten ledge of a closed window until it overripened to the point that it could make you nauseous.

Sure, sure, it’s my skin, and my too healthy diet, but on the ribbon (you won’t expect to receive a vulgar strip of paper at Hermes, will ya?) the situation is not that better.

The idea is great: mixing mango with a sort of carrot and tomato leaves, but something just pushes this perfume over the edge. It’s only on the next day that this Hermes fragrance becomes what it should be: fruity, warm, different from anything you did and will smell and – more importantly – not obnoxious.  Until then though, if nauseous is too strong a word, it’s at least cloudy.

The best thing of this perfume was the British-accented Brown Thomas SA who sprayed it on me.

If this was a color it would be:

Hermes Un Jardin Sur De Nil

Un Jardin Sur Le Nil By Hermes For Women And Men

Enjoy the jasmine of the beginning, then get yourself a spoon and a tissue and be ready for the ethyl maltol assault. That’s the molecule of cotton candy, blended with massive doses of patchouli. The result is a cloud of honey with a sprinkle of pepper on it.

And of course there’s so much more in this Thierry Mugler perfume, here’s the full list (according to Fragrantica), go nuts: melon, coconut, mandarin orange, cassia, jasmine, bergamot and cotton candy (top); honey, apricot, blackberry, plum, orchid, peach, jasmine, lily-of-the-valley, red berries and rose (middle); base notes are tonka bean, amber, patchouli, musk, vanilla, dark chocolate and caramel (base).

As you can see, there is plenty of room for everyone to smell different accords in this perfume Angel, but on one thing everyone agrees: this is one like no other. If in the good or in a bad way, it’s up to you.

After five hours, honey starts to evolve towards caramel, with floral notes struggling not to be completely overwhelmed, but you can still fell them. And the pepper is still there….

After 24 hours on paper strip, the beast is tamed, with the sweetness now turning into an aromatic vanilla.

Everyone loves Angel parfum and everyone hates it. A little known fact is that, during the first two years after its launch, in 1992, Angel was a commercial fiasco. Yet, the house insisted, and still in 2003 it was the second best selling perfume in France (after le monstre Chanel n.5).

About this aspect, there’s an interesting remark in Chandler Burr’s The Perfect Scent: A Year Inside the Perfume Industry in Paris and New York:

The secret of Angel’s commercial success […] was exactly this divisiveness. Only 3 percent of consumers would touch it. But those 3 percent were complete fanatics, enough to put the thing repeatedly in the top ten.

For those of that 97% who are tempted by it (you know who you are), you already know: this is not for everyone, so you should, at least for five seconds, ask yourselves: can I pull this off?

Or, in other words, if you want to try it, be ready to raise the question “is she wearing the perfume or is the perfume wearing her?” This is what the question would sound like in the mind of a perfumista (that’s part of the jargon), for all the rest it would probably sound like: “what the hell is this smell? Did a truck of cotton candy just roll over?”

And here goes my question: what personality should a woman have to (appropriately) wear something like Angel parfume? That’s a real question, ladies. If there’s an Angel lover or hater out there, let me know, please. My knowledge of feminine universe can only take me so far.

If this perfume was a color, it would be this:

Thierry Mugler Angel perfume

Thierry Angel perfume