Joy

By the editors · 2 min readJoy opens with an almost shocking opulence—tuberose and Bulgarian rose arrive simultaneously, their combined richness verging on the indecent. There's none of the tentative buildup you expect from modern perfumes. Within minutes, jasmine joins the rose at full volume, creating that famously dense floral wall that made this one of the most expensive perfumes of its era.

The sandalwood base never quite emerges as a separate phase. Instead, it seems to hold everything in suspension, like a pale wooden frame around an oil painting. The musk is similarly structural rather than animalic—it gives the flowers heft without adding warmth.

This is white flowers without softness or sweetness, presented with an almost geometric clarity. It belongs to the world of satin evening gowns and unheated drawing rooms, worn by women who have no need to charm anyone.