Carolina Herrera
A unique visual signature based on accords, character, and seasonality
Pink pepper snaps with aromachemical precision whilst lavender unfurls in that modern, cleaned-up register—none of the herbal grit of genuine lavandula, all smooth edges and diffusive power. The sweetness announces itself immediately, a fruity haze that hovers above the spice work like a neon sign above a doorway.
Black plum dominates completely now, a jammy, almost cloying sweetness that the geranium tries to sharpen with its minty-rosy facets but never quite manages to cut through. The truffle emerges as an earthy, funky counterpoint—part forest floor, part synthetic musk—creating this oddly savoury-sweet push-pull that defines the fragrance's character for the next few hours.
The woods finally assert themselves as the fruit retreats, cedarwood and vetiver forming a quietly smoky, pencil-shaving base that's infinitely more wearable than what preceded it. That synthetic sweetness never fully vanishes though, clinging to the edges like a memory of what the fragrance was shouting two hours earlier.
Bad Boy Cobalt pitches itself somewhere between nightclub and laboratory—a deliberately synthetic take on the fruity-gourmand template that's been plastered across every high street for the past half-decade. The lavender opening arrives with that telltale aromachemical sharpness, pink pepper crackling alongside it like pop rocks on the tongue, whilst the black plum heart pushes forward with an almost aggressive sweetness that Michalon-Bertier has dialled to maximum. This isn't shy. The truffle note adds an earthy, umami richness that should feel sophisticated but instead veers into that distinctly 2020s territory of "smells expensive, wears loud."
What's curious here is the tension between the composition's more classical gestures—Egyptian geranium, proper cedarwood, vetiver—and the unapologetically modern, almost plastic sweetness that dominates proceedings. It's as if someone took the bones of a perfectly respectable woody aromatic and dunked it in a vat of fruit-flavoured syrup. The oak and cedar try valiantly to anchor things, but they're fighting a losing battle against that relentless plum-truffle sweetness that clings to skin and fabric alike.
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3.5/5 (214)