Creed
Creed
227 votes
A unique visual signature based on accords, character, and seasonality
You're hit immediately with a tsunami of stone fruit—peach and apricot dominate, their fuzzy sweetness amplified by melon's watery sugar and apple's crisp tang. Bergamot tries valiantly to add structure, but it's like bringing a knife to a fruit fight; within minutes, you're wearing a full-throttle orchard with just enough citrus to stop it collapsing into jam.
The jasmine and rose finally muscle their way through the fruit, but they arrive with a soapy, almost laundry-fresh quality that borders on synthetic. The florals feel polished and pretty rather than raw or indolic, sitting atop that persistent fruity sweetness like a vintage powder compact opened in a greengrocer's. There's a nostalgic, cosmetic-counter femininity here that either charms or cloys, depending on your tolerance for sweetness.
What remains is a soft, clean musk with faint echoes of that original fruit-and-flower combination, now blurred into a single sweet, powdery impression. It's inoffensive and close to the skin, the kind of scent that smells more like "nice" than anything specific. The exuberance has faded into politeness, leaving behind a whisper of springtime that won't offend anyone—but won't particularly move them either.
Spring Flower is Creed's unabashed love letter to the orchard in full bloom—but this isn't some ethereal watercolour. It opens with a fruit salad so lush and syrupy that you can practically feel the juice running down your chin: ripe peach and apricot flesh jostle against honeyed melon and sharp apple slices, all given a citric polish by bergamot that stops just short of turning the whole affair into a farmers' market smoothie. This is fruit at its most unapologetically sweet, bordering on the candied, yet there's an underlying freshness that keeps it from cloying.
As the orchard notes settle, jasmine and rose emerge—not the crisp, green stems of an English garden, but full-blown florist's blooms with a slightly soapy cleanliness. The florals feel almost cosmetic in their polish, lending the composition an old-fashioned femininity that harks back to mid-century eau de toilettes, the kind that came in frosted glass bottles on gilt dressing tables. Yet that generous fruit basket remains stubbornly present throughout, refusing to let the flowers take centre stage entirely.
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3.9/5 (319)