Jo Malone
A unique visual signature based on accords, character, and seasonality
Ambrette delivers its signature musky-sweet opening, somewhere between pear skin and clean human warmth, immediately softened by a cloud of heliotrope that smells of cherry kernel and vanilla all at once. The iris makes itself known early, contributing a rooty, almost carrot-like facet that keeps the opening from disappearing into pure confectionery.
The poppy accord blooms fully now, bringing with it that distinctive milky-latex quality that's simultaneously innocent and vaguely louche. Heliotrope intensifies, reading as powdered almond and Play-Doh sweetness, whilst the spicy undertones emerge—not pepper or cinnamon, but something warmer and more ambiguous, like the dusty interior of an old wooden spice drawer.
Tonka bean and barley create an unusual base that hovers between biscuit tin and skin musk, with the fig adding a subtle green creaminess rather than overt fruitiness. What remains is powdery, soft, and surprisingly tenacious for a Jo Malone—a second-skin scent that whispers rather than speaks, smelling of talc, grain, and the ghost of flowers pressed between pages.
Scarlet Poppy arrives as a study in contradictions—at once innocent and knowing, milky yet assertive. Mathilde Bijaoui has constructed something that reads like a Victorian herbal remedy bottled alongside a Paris patisserie's secret ingredient. The ambrette seed opens with its peculiar musk-meets-pear quality, but it's quickly enveloped by a heliotrope so prominent it threatens to turn the entire composition into a marzipan dream. What keeps this from becoming overtly gourmand is the dusty, resinous quality of iris, which acts as a grey silk veil over all that sweetness. The Turkish poppy note—milky, narcotic, vaguely latex-like—provides an intriguing botanical edge that feels genuinely opium den rather than Chelsea flower show.
The creamy accord dominates, but it's the barley in the base that proves most fascinating: a cereal-grain note that adds an almost savoury undertone, like shortbread biscuits left too long near a bowl of talcum powder. Tonka bean sweetens predictably, whilst fig contributes a green-white sap quality rather than the fruit's purple jamminess. This is for the person who wants to smell both comforting and slightly unsettling—who appreciates that almond can verge on bitter cyanide, that milk can sour, that flowers are essentially plant genitalia. Wear it to an afternoon where you'd like to appear softer than you are, or to bed when you want your pillowcase to smell like a more interesting version of yourself. It's Jo Malone at their most daring, which admittedly still sits within a fairly safe radius.
Add fragrances to your collection and unlock your personalised scent DNA, note map, and shareable identity card.
Trussardi
3.9/5 (163)