Rituals
Rituals
179 votes
A unique visual signature based on accords, character, and seasonality
The juniper berry arrives first with a sharp, gin-like resinousness, immediately undercut by bright mandarin that tries to steer toward cheerfulness—but within minutes, the mint bursts through with an almost confrontational freshness, clean and slightly medicinal, announcing this won't be a conventional citrus fragrance.
The cypress and violet leaf take command here, creating a distinctly green, almost herbal composition that sits somewhere between a forest floor and a cool, shadowed bathroom cabinet. The lavender provides a delicate thread of traditional florality, but it's overwhelmed by the mineral, slightly peppery character of the violet, whilst the fougère base begins its slow creep upward, adding an earthy, somewhat musty texture.
The foug re and vetiver become increasingly dominant, creating a dry, woody blanket that's vaguely animalic and surprisingly grounded. The remaining trace of mint and cypress creates a ghost of freshness against the vetiver's earthy dryness, leaving something quietly austere and almost contemplative on the skin—closer to a woody skin scent than the vibrant composition that arrived two hours prior.
Bleu Byzantin occupies a peculiar territory—it's a fragrance that wants to be an aromatic fresh but keeps pulling toward something greener, more austere. The juniper berry and mandarin opening promises citrus brightness, yet the heart immediately pivots toward something decidedly botanical and mineral. This is where the magic (or the discord) emerges: the water mint and cypress create a crisp, almost herbal wetness that frames the violet leaf's green, slightly peppery character, whilst lavender tries to soften the edges with its gentle florality. The foug re notes in the base—that characteristically earthy, slightly animalic quality—ground everything with an unexpected earthiness that feels at odds with the aquatic freshness above it.
It's a fragrance for someone caught between seasons, between moods. There's an intellectual quality here, a slight distance that prevents it from ever becoming truly warm or sensual. The synthetic accords (52%) give it a slightly creaky, artificial sheen—you'll catch something oddly plasticky beneath the botanical layers, particularly as the mint fades. This isn't a comfort scent; it's a thinking person's fragrance, worn on days when you want something crisp and challenging rather than immediately pleasing. The vetiver adds a final touch of dry, woody stability, preventing the whole composition from floating away into pure abstraction.
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Gucci
3.3/5 (134)