Lacoste
A unique visual signature based on accords, character, and seasonality
A sharp, aldehydic lime cuts through immediately, accompanied by a rush of synthetic aquatic notes that feel more ambient air freshener than refined fragrance. The green leaves accord arrives quickly, adding a crisp, soapy texture that dominates the first few minutes before anything else has time to settle.
The aquatic and herbal elements settle into their groove, with the licorice beginning its tentative emergence beneath. This is L!ve's most balanced phase—brief though it is—where the spicy notes thread faintly through the composition before the guaiacwood's woody dryness becomes the primary character.
Within hours, the fragrance has largely dissipated, leaving behind only traces of iris and a faint woody-anise combination that clings to skin without conviction. By this stage, you're more likely to catch it when moving than through any deliberate sniff, a ghost of the opening's initial sharpness transformed into something nebulous and inconsequential.
L!ve arrives as a study in controlled freshness, though "controlled" proves to be the operative word here. Jean-Michel Duriez has crafted something that sits uncomfortably between a crisp aromatic and an aquatic—competent in neither territory, succeeding fully in neither. The lime opening is sharp and aldehydic rather than juicy, immediately joined by those synthetic aquatic notes that give the fragrance its peculiar plasticity. There's a distinctly laundry-fresh quality to the green leaves accord, as though someone's spritzing you with scent from a linen spray bottle rather than presenting you with actual botanical character.
What makes L!ve interesting—if frustratingly so—is how the licorice and guaiacwood base attempts to anchor something fundamentally weightless. These deeper notes hint at structure, at restraint, yet they arrive whisper-quiet, barely registering before the fragrance begins its hasty retreat. The spicy accord promised by the data manifests as little more than a whisper of anise-tinged warmth, threading through the iris without ever asserting itself.
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Ermenegildo Zegna
3.5/5 (92)