Angel is the perfume that invented the gourmand category.

Light Blue is a Mediterranean idea compressed into a bottle: Sicilian citron and Granny Smith apple arrive first with a crisp, cold-water snap, tart enough to read almost metallic.

Light Blue is one of those perfumes that became a cultural default so quickly that it stopped being anyone's favorite and started being everyone's.

The opening strikes with bright, nearly aggressive citrus—sharp bergamot and bitter orange cut through immediately, lifted by a clean orange blossom that feels more zesty than floral.

La Vie Est Belle opens with a sweet pear note that feels both fruity and slightly candied, tempered by a brief blackcurrant accent.

Black Orchid opens dense and narcotic, a heavy pour of ylang-ylang and gardenia thick enough to coat the air.

J'adore's original 1999 formulation is a big, unembarrassed bouquet — a wet, juicy opening of pear and magnolia with a peach-bergamot edge, everything slightly overripe in a deliberate way.

The opening is a bright burst of pink pepper and bergamot that feels sharper than most fresh masculines, almost electric.

The opening is dry citrus—orange and grapefruit stripped of sweetness, more peel and pith than juice.

Terre d'Hermès opens with a dry, mineral citrus—grapefruit and orange peel that feel more dusty than bright, as if squeezed over sun-baked stone.

Crystal Noir opens with a dusky warmth, cardamom and ginger flashing briefly before the scent settles into something darker and more enveloping.

Eros opens with a jolt of icy mint cutting through citrus brightness—immediate, almost electric.

Yuzu and pomegranate announce themselves with a sparkling clarity that feels both citrus-bright and faintly sweet, like tart fruit sliced open in morning light.

The opening is rose-pink and airy, carried by peony and freesia that feel freshly cut rather than sweet.

Aventus opens with a bright, almost synthetic burst of pineapple and apple—tart, juicy, and immediately recognizable.

La Nuit de l'Homme is the most successful men's cardamom fragrance of the past two decades — and for good reason.

The opening announces itself immediately—bright grapefruit cut with crisp mint, like a sharp intake of cold air.

Le Male opens with a sharp jolt of mint and lavender—barbershop brisk, but warmer than expected.

A blast of gasoline-tinged violet opens like the hood of a vintage sports car, strangely beautiful and almost industrial.

Flowerbomb opens with a pale apricot softness from osmanthus, lightly lifted by bergamot, but the citrus fades quickly.

Flowerbomb opens with a sugared osmanthus that reads more like apricot compote than fresh petals, softened by a whisper of bergamot that vanishes almost immediately.

The musk arrives first—not powdery or sharp, but a radiating warmth that feels almost tactile.

Bleu de Chanel opens with a clean citrus thrust—grapefruit and lemon sharpened by mint and pink pepper—that feels more athletic than dressy.

The opening contradiction defines this fragrance: bitter espresso colliding with sweet almond extract, flanked by a sharp citrus edge that keeps the sweetness from cloying.