Iris

Bois d'Iris opens with the earthy, rooty character of iris front and center—not the powdered cosmetic version, but something closer to the raw rhizome itself.

# Duro by Nasomatto (2007)

A Roja chypre that uses its name as a structural template.

Henri Robert composed N°19 for Chanel as a deliberately unconventional counterpart to N°5 — green, cool, and austere where its older sibling was warm and aldehydic.

Mefisto Gentiluomo opens with a textbook aromatic-citrus accord: lavender alongside lemon, grapefruit, and bergamot — herbal, tart, bitter, clean.

Mortal Skin earns its name.

The opening lands quietly—green violet leaf and bergamot create a soft, slightly metallic haze rather than brightness.

The first encounter is plush and almost startling—Bulgarian rose delivered with an intensity that borders on sacramental, backed by powdered iris that softens without sweetening.

Insolence opens with a burst of synthetic violet that feels deliberately modern—almost plastic in its intensity, like crushed candy or lipstick straight from the tube.

Lyric Woman opens with the controlled heat of ginger, cinnamon, and cardamom over bergamot — spice as atmosphere rather than aggression, a slow warm-up to what follows.

Grey Vetiver opens with citrus brightness—grapefruit and a whisper of orange blossom—tempered by herbal sage that keeps the start grounded rather than effervescent.

The opening is a sharp, peppery citrus that's more bitter than bright—petitgrain's green edge cutting through any sweetness, black pepper adding a dry heat.

Zefiro opens bright and fleeting—bergamot dissolves almost instantly into a rush of cinnamon and cardamom, their heat tempered by the coolness of iris.

Irisss announces itself with a crystalline burst of bergamot that quickly gives way to its true subject: a powdered, rooty iris that feels both antique and austere.

The iris note in Fleur de Peau arrives first, powdery but not sweet, with the muted mineral quality of cosmetic-grade orris butter.

Epic Woman opens with spice before flower: cinnamon, cumin, and pink pepper form a warm, slightly aggressive entry that prepares you for the seriousness of what follows.

Rolling in Love is built around the paradox of transparency: notes so close to skin that wearing it feels less like adding a fragrance than revealing one already there.

Infusion d'Homme opens with a wash of neroli so transparent it seems to filter sunlight through petals, supported by a cool whisper of iris.

N°19 Poudré exists in dialogue with one of perfumery's most formidable classics.

Florence's great formal garden lends this fragrance its organizing metaphor: ordered nature, manicured green with a classical floral core.

The opening is a bracing herbal slap—lavender and basil collide with citrus in that particular late-seventies way, aromatic and unapologetically masculine.

Gypsy Water opens with a brief citrus brightness—lemon and bergamot—that quickly gives way to something quieter and more compelling.

Noir opens with a bright jolt of pink pepper and violet, a fleeting sweetness that quickly gives way to something moodier.

Ginger opens with a sharp, slightly medicinal brightness — more peel than root, clean rather than warming.

Santal 33 opens with a sharp, almost pickled violet note and a spicy cardamom bite that frames the sandalwood rather than softening it.

The opening is a subdued study in powder: Bulgarian rose and iris presented with restraint, almost translucent rather than opulent.

Kenzo pour Homme arrived in 1991 as one of the first contemporary takes on what would later be called the aquatic-woody genre — but here the water is only implied, through the transparency of its construction.

Club de Nuit Sillage opens bright and alert—ginger sparks against lime and bergamot, while violet leaf adds a green, cucumber-cool edge.

The opening is clean and bright, a sunlit Mediterranean courtyard rather than a ceremonial bouquet.

Galloway opens with a soft haze of musk and amber that feels immediately inviting, like stepping into a sunlit room with pale wooden floors.

Crystal Noir opens with a powdery violet that feels both vintage and deliberate, a soft dusting that immediately sets a moodier tone than its Eau de Parfum counterpart.

Office for Men opens with a strikingly clean iris-bergamot accord, brightened by the molecule ambrox that lends a transparent, almost metallic freshness.

Cerruti 1881 pour Femme is an exercise in floral layering at a scale that was common in 1995 and is rare now.

Grey Flannel is one of the definitive American masculines of the 1970s, and the opening announces its era without apology: galbanum's sharp, vegetable-green bitterness dominates a top that also includes petitgrain, neroli, lemon, and bergamot.

Teint de Neige opens with a powdered softness that feels almost edible—iris and almond milk blended into something between a cosmetic compact and a floury pastry.

Chance opens with a bright clash—pineapple's tropical sweetness punctuated by pink pepper's dry, almost metallic bite, while iris lends a cool, powdery restraint.

The opening is unapologetically sweet and spiced, with plum and cinnamon colliding against powdery iris and violet.

Alien Goddess opens with a polished coconut accord that reads more creamy than tropical—no suntan oil or piña colada theatrics, just a smooth, slightly milky sweetness that quickly gives way to heliotrope's powdery almond haze.

A contemporary Prada masculine with an unusually complex heart for a fresh-leaning fragrance.

Pear opens sweetly, quickly joined by the blackberry from the general accord — a pale, slightly tart fruitiness that sets the stage for the gourmand-iris heart.

The opening feels unexpectedly green and herbal, with rosemary cutting through any sweetness before the composition settles into its more resinous core.

Leylak — Turkish for lilac — opens with pineapple, melon, and bergamot: a tropical-fruity brightness that's more 1984 than its name implies.

Cool Water Woman took the aquatic revolution of the original and redirected it toward the feminine market — bergamot and melon open with the requisite late-nineties aquatic brightness, pineapple adding tropical sweetness alongside.

A melon opening can go sweet or aquatic; here it stays restrained, folded into bergamot's bitter-bright peel.

The 2021 reformulation of Valentino Uomo Intense opens with a brief spark of nutmeg before settling into its core: a dry, earthy sage that feels more herbal workshop than culinary.

The anise appears immediately—not as absinthe's sharpness but as a soft aromatic haze softening the bergamot.

Le Male Le Parfum strips away the maritime freshness of the original, leaving a denser, more carnal structure.

The Tux opens with an aggressive burst of pink pepper and citrus that announces itself like a crisp shirt collar snapping into place.

Samsara Extrait is the concentration that settles the argument: Jean-Paul Guerlain's 1989 sandalwood-jasmine opus in its fullest, most unhurried form.

Le Beau Le Parfum opens with a sharp hit of ginger that immediately softens into tropical sweetness—pineapple mellowed by iris's powdery restraint.

A leather rose wound tight with iris—this is Dior Homme Parfum in its opening moments, darker and more resinous than the cologne or intense versions that preceded it.

The opening arrives with warmth rather than sharpness—saffron and cardamom soften the pepper trio, while apricot lends a golden, almost suede-like quality to the spice.

Blonde Amber opens with a bracing warmth—ginger and pink pepper sharpened by citrus, rum lending sweetness without its usual boozy weight.

Dior Homme Cologne (2022) opens with a crisp citrus brightness that feels almost medicinal in its cleanness—grapefruit and bergamot stripped of sweetness, edged with something faintly herbal.

L'Homme Intense opens with Prada's signature iris, but here it's warmer and more enveloping than its predecessor.

Dior Homme Intense opens with a powdery whisper of lavender and iris that feels almost talc-like in its softness.

The opening bursts with fresh lavender and bergamot, quickly tempered by nutmeg's warm rasp—a masculine take on Italian sharpness rather than fougère softness.

The opening flicker of pink pepper quickly subsides into a deeply resinous heart where guaiac wood dominates—darker and smokier than oud itself, with an almost medicinal intensity that feels carved from ancient timber rather than extracted.

Dior Homme Intense opens with a powdered iris so concentrated it feels almost edible—lipstick, violet pastilles, the dusty sweetness of cosmetic compacts.

Shalimar Millésime Iris opens with a clean citrus brightness that quickly yields to a soft, powdery iris heart—weightless and almost chalky at first, like the inside of a cosmetics compact.

Liam opens with a warm spice-fruit accord that feels unexpectedly restrained—cardamom lending soft heat while fig adds a milky, green sweetness without veering gourmand.

The opening salvo of clary sage—herbal, almost medicinal—gives way almost immediately to a cushioned center of tonka bean and iris.

A thunderous opulence from one of the Gulf's most revered houses, Safari Extreme throws open a rose garden in full bloom: Bulgarian rose and jasmine at the core, ringed by tuberose, ylang-ylang, and violet, all lifted on saffron and raspberry-tinged bergamot before landing on a cathedral of dark oud, creamy sandalwood, leather, and clove.

Dior Homme Cologne strips the line's signature iris down to a whisper, centering instead on a translucent musk foundation.

Reserve Privée takes the original Gentleman structure and drapes it in a quieter, more resinous glow.

Homem-Tato opens with a brisk trinity of spices—black pepper snapping alongside saffron's metallic warmth and cardamom's green bite.

A dark, almost brooding tobacco fragrance that opens with an unexpected brightness—black currant and clary sage cutting through before the composition settles into its true character.

Prada l'Homme opens in the register most men's fragrances avoid: a cool, slightly medicinal neroli with iris and geranium in close support.

Chypre Palatin is a declaration of intent — a traditional chypre that doesn't apologize for its architecture.

Dior Homme opens with a brisk aromatic sweep—lavender and sage tempered by bergamot—that quickly gives way to its famous iris heart.

**Prada L'Homme L'Eau** opens with a bright jolt of ginger that feels almost medicinal in its precision, softened by neroli's bittersweet citrus.

The original Shalimar Eau de Cologne opens with a bracing citrus clarity—bergamot and lemon lifted by dry cedarwood—that quickly gives way to something more complex than its name suggests.

The opening is a flash of citrus brightness against resinous incense, a brief contrast that fades quickly into the heart.

Coromandel opens with a whisper of neroli before surrendering almost immediately to a warm, resinous embrace.

The iris dominates from the first spray, but this is iris rendered strangely cool and powdery-matte, like pressed cosmetic powder or the inside of a vintage leather case.

31 Rue Cambon is named for the address of Chanel's original salon and carries that address's ambiguity — neither entirely floral nor entirely chypre, neither entirely feminine nor entirely not.

The opening is deceptively bright—bergamot lifts the veil on what quickly reveals itself as a study in cool, powdered restraint.

Armani Code Absolu Gold opens with green apple and mandarin orange — a deliberately brief freshness before the composition's real character asserts itself.

Shalimar Cologne opens with a bright citrus volley—lime and grapefruit cutting through bergamot's softness—that feels less like the original's baroque drama and more like sunlight through an open window.

A thick veil of cinnamon dominates from the first spray—not the sugared kind, but a resinous, almost medicinal spice sharpened by black pepper.

Bvlgari Extreme opens with a citrus accord that feels almost architectural—petitgrain and neroli layered over grapefruit and bergamot, sharp enough to cut through but never shrill.

Bois d'Arménie opens with incense and frankincense — the aromatic resins burning on paper, smoky and spiritual without being heavy.

Lavender, cardamom, and clary sage form a sophisticated aromatic opening, benzoin adding warmth from the first note and pink pepper providing gentle heat.

La Collection Rive Gauche Pour Homme opens with the sharp clarity of bergamot and juniper, a bracing citrus-conifer accord that feels immediately Parisian in its uncluttered elegance.

One of Guerlain's Shalimar Ode à la Vanille flankers, this 2012 limited edition centers on single-origin Madagascar vanilla — a house obsession that traces back through Shalimar's own vanilla-and-civet DNA.

The parfum concentration of Armani Code pushes iris to the forefront, where it arrives powdery and slightly metallic, softened by the green herbal lift of clary sage.

The opening arrives with a jolt of cardamom that's almost medicinal in its brightness, cut through by bergamot's citric edge.

The iris arrives immediately, hushed and almost austere—dry petals and powdered roots without sweetness.

Black Tie opens with a clean burst of aldehydes that feels more like starched linen than champagne bubbles.

Gris Charnel Extrait opens with fig and cardamom — not the bright-green fig of colognes but something closer to ripe fig in autumn: warmer, slightly winey, with cardamom's spice rounding the sweetness.

The opening lands with a dusty snap of black pepper and nutmeg tempered by sage, less herbal than mineral, like crushed stone warmed in sunlight.

Calèche Soie de Parfum opens with a citrus brightness that feels scrubbed clean—neroli and bergamot without sweetness or heft, more like linen than fruit.

Ekos Alma opens with a peppery brightness — pink and black pepper in tandem with cardamom and bergamot, a classic spiced citrus opening with enough warmth in the pepper to hold attention through the first moments.

O Boticário's 214 line sits at the intersection of accessible luxury and gift fragrance — polished, generous, and conceived to be noticed.

The opening is a soft, peachy brightness tempered by neroli—more gauze than glitter.

The Gentleman line's modern era is defined by iris — not the buttery, powdery orris root of older French perfumery but something colder and more structural.

The grapefruit opens sharp and almost medicinal, more rind than juice, with a green astringency that keeps it from sliding into conventional citrus territory.

The opening strikes an unusual balance: bright pineapple sharpened by ginger and pink pepper, bergamot keeping it from tilting too sweet.

L'Heure de Nuit opens with a particular softness—peach skin dusted with anise, bergamot barely there, like the first pale light before dawn.

The 2012 formulation of Dior Homme Sport opens with a sharp citrus-ginger bite tempered by pink pepper's metallic tingle.

No.19 opens with galbanum — that sharp, intensely green, almost metallic vegetable-leaf note — alongside neroli's delicate bitter-orange blossom.

Eau d'Eden opens with a pale, almost watercolor wash of iris and rose—neither shrill nor sweet, but softly blurred at the edges like petals pressed between book pages.

The name tells the story: this is a Guerlain iris dressed in chocolate.

C for Men opens with a saffron-dominated citrus — warm, slightly metallic, with lemon providing brightness and thyme adding an herbal edge that gives the opening a certain seriousness.

Manifesto Le Parfum begins with a single, clear bergamot note — no layered citrus opening, just one note asking for attention.

Gentleman Eau de Parfum Boisée opens with a crack of black pepper that feels more restrained than aggressive—enough heat to signal intent, but quickly absorbed into a dense, resinous cedar core.

The violet leaf opens sharp and green, almost metallic, cutting through the air with a patchouli-tinged edge that feels modern and angular.

The opening is strikingly transparent—a soft whirl of pale musks and clean aldehydes that feel almost weightless.

Bvlgari Man in Black opens with the dark sweetness of rum laced through tobacco leaf—not cigarette smoke, but the plant itself, green-edged and resinous.

The opening bursts with tart apple and citrus brightness, then quickly shifts into something darker and more austere.

Plum and peach open with ripe, almost jammy fruitiness — the cardamom adding warm spice that elevates the fruit above simple sweetness.

Plum and peach open with ripe, almost jammy fruitiness — the cardamom adding warm spice that elevates the fruit above simple sweetness.

Liu arrived in 1929 as a tribute to the Puccini heroine — and carries that operatic pedigree in its bones.

Green Irish Tweed opens with a bright, almost electric freshness—lemon verbena sharpness tempered by the cool powderiness of iris.

Venezia arrives ripe and golden — peach and osmanthus shimmering against blackcurrant in an opening that smells like late summer turned warm amber.

**Cuir Noir** opens with a sharp flare of saffron and pepper that quickly gives way to a dry, almost austere leather accord.

L'Heure Bleue opens with a fleeting brightness—bergamot softened by anise's herbal sweetness—before sinking into something deeper and more melancholic.

Fahrenheit Le Parfum opens with the unmistakable smell of fine suede—not the harsh chemical approximation, but a supple, worn-in leather accord that feels closer to textile than hide.

The opening strikes with lavender and bergamot, bright but almost immediately softened by vanilla—this isn't the usual citrus salvo.