Copper Fields

Copper Fields arrives as a confection masquerading as restraint—a fragrance that promises pastoral simplicity but delivers something far more indulgent. Jérôme Epinette has crafted a scent caught between the hedgerow and the patisserie, where tart cherry and almond nougat jostle for dominance whilst pink pepper adds a whisper of spice that never quite commits to bite. The real architecture reveals itself in the heart: cherry blossom and magnolia create a floral bed so plush it practically absorbs the synthetic components (that 52% doesn't whisper, it hums), whilst violet emerges as the voice of restraint, preventing this from becoming purely dessert-like.

What makes Copper Fields compelling—despite its modest rating—is this tension between gourmand seduction and floral dignity. This is a fragrance for someone who wears their sweetness deliberately, without apology. There's an almost retro sensibility here, evoking the 2008 aesthetic when synthetic accords were still finding their voice in mainstream fragrance. You'd wear this on autumn afternoons when the light turns amber, perhaps layered over lightly moisturised skin where the tonka-vanilla base notes can cling rather than project. It's intimate rather than generous, a fragrance that rewards proximity rather than broadcasting itself. The sandalwood and mysterious quintozar provide ballast, preventing the sweetness from becoming cloying, though this is undeniably a scent for those who embrace the gourmand without embarrassment.