Avon
A unique visual signature based on accords, character, and seasonality
Yuzu's zippy, almost cleaning-fluid brightness meets cardamom's warmth in a sharpness that feels both inviting and faintly repellent. That underlying fermented note immediately signals this isn't a conventional apple blossom—it's something aged, slightly spoilt, immediately compelling.
Basil and Cascalone create a green, soapy herbaceousness that feels almost pharmaceutical, whilst rust notes inject an earthy, metallic tang that grows increasingly prominent. The composition turns inwards, becoming more about mineral dankness than floral beauty, almost meditative in its deliberate plainness.
Brazilian Rosewood and Cashmere Wood attempt a graceful woody resolution, yet mildew notes persist like damp in forgotten spaces—faint, vaguely troubling, refusing to evaporate into nothingness. The fragrance doesn't fade so much as fade away, leaving behind only a whisper of fermented green matter and wood dust.
Apple Blossom Avon presents itself as a contradictory fragrance—one that promises delicate floral sweetness but delivers something considerably more austere and oddly unsettling. Olivier Cresp's composition opens with yuzu's bright, almost medicinal citrus cutting through cardamom's warm spice, but the real intrigue lies in that troubling top note marked "putrescence"—a fermented, slightly funky undertone that prevents this from ever becoming conventionally pretty. This is not a fragrance for those seeking comfort; it's for the adventurous wearer who appreciates tension and unease in their scent.
The heart exposes the composition's peculiar architecture: basil adds a green, slightly peppery dimension whilst Cascalone—that synthetic, slightly soapy clean-skin molecule—sits alongside "rust," suggesting oxidised metal and mineral earthiness. Rather than harmonising, these notes create dissonance, a jarring juxtaposition of the herbaceous and the industrial. The base reveals Cashmere Wood and Brazilian Rosewood attempting to provide warmth and structure, yet they're undercut by a musty, slightly damp quality marked "mildew"—deliberately evoking something faintly unclean, faintly wrong.
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3.3/5 (94)