Icon Private

Icon Private arrives as a deliberate contradiction—a fragrance that refuses the sweetened comfort of conventional florals. Sylvaine Delacourte has constructed something deliberately austere here, where bitter orange and petitgrain establish an almost medicinal opening that immediately suggests intelligence over prettiness. The tarragon is the masterstroke, injecting a subtle anisic spice that prevents this from becoming merely another citrus refresher; instead, it creates tension, a herbal astringency that keeps the composition from settling into predictability.

The orange blossom arrives as a whisper rather than a statement, never dominating but rather softening the edges of what precedes it. This is where Delacourte's restraint becomes apparent—a lesser perfumer would have leaned heavily into floral sweetness here, but she permits only enough to acknowledge the accord's presence. The real intrigue emerges from the base, where "grunge" (an unusual descriptor in fragrance notes, suggesting that raw, almost dirty greenness) anchors everything with musk and indistinct green matter. This creates a composition that smells both crisp and slightly mineral, as though someone has crushed green tomato leaves between their palms.