I’ve only had Elie Saab Le Parfum for two weeks, and I’m already writing a review on it, which is very strange indeed. Usually, I’ll sniff a fragrance, and then embark on months of soul searching and head scratching and more sniffing. Finally, when I’m completely fed up, I’ll deprive myself of sleep and write something up at 4 am, when the nonsense just starts flowing. Because writing about scent, god it’s difficult! Where is my online scratch-and-sniff feature? Argh! Arrrgghh!
But as I said, none of that happened this time. Thank you Elie Saab and Francis Kurkdjian, for making a perfume that, by some miracle, I can write about without going through a mental crisis.
I’ve already been through the packaging once here. Suffice to say I think it’s perfect for the juice inside, and is a lovely addition to my vanity.
Elie Saab Le Parfum starts off with a truckload of orange blossom and syrupy honey that almost tickles my nose. Then the jasmine sidles in, and adds a different kind of sweetness. It’s funny, because I usually associate jasmine in perfume with a type of coldness (this of course could just be my total inexperience speaking), but even if you stuck this scent in the refrigerator overnight, you’d be hard pressed to find anything cold about it. There’s something called ‘rose honey,’ and whether that’s honey made from roses or roses blended with honey, I have no idea. But the drydown has a lovely, rounded honey note with the barest hint of florals, slightly cleaned up by cedar and patchouli. It’s glowing and radiant and sunny, not sunny as in ‘oh let’s go frolic in a field with unicorns and butterflies,’ more like sun drenched. If it were a dress, it would be this dress exactly, which just so happens to be designed by Elie Saab.
It reminds me a bit of my beloved Lierac Sensorielle; the two smell nothing alike, but there’s that similar feel of honey-sweet florals, a similar warmth to both scents. But while Sensorielle is quite mellow, Elie Saab Le Parfum lacks any semblance of shyness.
Sillage is above average, meaning people will be able to smell you if they end up in an elevator or broom closet (just trying to cover every situation here) with you, but you won’t be the person who walks into the room and knocks everyone out with your perfume. On my skin, this lasts a good 7-8 hours, although I will add that my skin seems to cling to perfume as if its life depends upon it.
It’s not going to please everyone, as it’s just not one of those scents. I will say that honeyed florals, especially well-constructed ones like this, are one of my favorites (and my mom’s favorite as well. The second I first sprayed this, she started dropping all kinds of hints about her birthday and Christmas…very well mom, point taken).
I always, always say never to buy a fragrance unsniffed, and that is especially the case for this one. The split between loving the scent and hating it is pretty even, so it’s something you need to decide in person.
It’s unmistakably feminine, but not girly. I’ve taken to wearing this every day, because I love the way it makes me feel (and that, for me, is the whole point of an ‘investment scent.’ It’s much more about how it makes you feel than how others perceive it). A spritz of this in the morning, and I feel sophisticated but not stuffy, elegant and bright and warm all at once. And I’ll tell you a secret, I’ll occasionally spritz my pajamas while I sprawl in bed at night, making my round through the Tolkien novels, something I haven’t done since Egyptian Musk. Sometimes you want to feel chic even when you’re dreaming.
What’s your take on honeyed florals? Have you sniffed this? Thoughts?
Also, does anyone else think that dress embodies the perfume perfectly? And can we gush about Elie Saab’s designs together in the comments?
Full Disclosure: The product in this post was submitted by PR for editorial consideration and review. For more information, please see my disclaimer.