Parfums d'Elmar
Parfums d'Elmar
286 votes
A unique visual signature based on accords, character, and seasonality
The first spray delivers an immediate rush of wild honey laced with cognac, the alcohol almost palpable as bergamot zest cuts through the amber-hued sweetness. Apple emerges not as crisp fruit but as something caramelised and yielding, whilst nutmeg dusts the entire composition with warming spice that prickles at the edges.
Cinnamon and date form an unctuous, almost sticky core that smells of suq al-khubz—the bread market—where pastries glisten with syrup. The oak wood absolute introduces a darker, more serious element, its tannic dryness creating shadows amongst the sweetness, whilst tonka bean's hay-like bitterness prevents the composition from becoming one-dimensional sugar.
What remains is a close-to-skin whisper of sandalwood and vanilla wrapped in benzoin's resinous warmth, with praline adding a persistent nutty sweetness that never quite fades. The amber accord becomes more prominent now, creating a soft, golden glow that smells like expensive confectionery left too long in a wooden box.
Zaya is an unapologetically hedonistic gourmand that smells like the moment you drizzle warm honey over cognac-soaked apples in a kitchen filled with Christmas spices. Christian Carbonnel has crafted something that teeters on the edge of excess without toppling over—the opening marriage of honey and cognac creates an almost boozy sweetness that the nutmeg prevents from becoming cloying. There's a textural quality here that's remarkable: the apple reads less like shampoo and more like actual fruit macerated in spirits, whilst the bergamot provides just enough citric brightness to keep the sweetness from suffocating.
As Zaya settles, the date and cinnamon heart reveals its Middle Eastern soul, though this is no souk incense fantasy. The oak wood absolute adds a tannic, almost leathery quality that reminds me of aged barrels, creating an unexpectedly sophisticated backbone beneath all that sticky sweetness. The tonka bean absolute—not mere coumarin—brings a hay-like, slightly bitter edge that plays beautifully against the praline base. This is the scent of someone who wears cashmere and velvet interchangeably, who lights beeswax candles whilst sipping aged spirits by a fire. It's intimate rather than projecting, the sort of fragrance that draws people closer.
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4.0/5 (115)