Alien opened a new chapter in women's perfumery when it launched in 2005 — a jasmine so resinous and electrified it felt almost synthetic, worn like an accessory rather than a scent.

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 crystallized sweetness—ripe pear and black currant rendered more like candied fruit than fresh juice.

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.

Black Opium opens with a bright shock of pear and pink pepper, quickly softened by orange blossom's creamy petals.

The opening is sweet but not exactly fruity—coconut mingles with plum and apricot in a way that feels dense, almost narcotic, like overripe fruit left in the sun.

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.

The opening is a luminous clash—saffron's metallic warmth meets jasmine's indolic sweetness, creating something neither floral nor spicy but strangely airborne.

Chloé Eau de Parfum opens with a powdery brightness—peony and freesia creating that just-bloomed softness that registers as pink even before you notice the actual rose.

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.

Encre Noire opens with a dark, almost mineral vetiver that feels pulled from damp earth rather than distilled for polish.

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.