Un Assenzio

This opens with quite a shock, almost acrid, but within seconds a wormwood falls into place. It is a much more bare, leafy wormwood as one would expect, with a supporting fennel only hinting at the absinthe accord that is far more typical in perfumery. Unlike the obtrusive sugar walls of Amai Arashiyama, there is agreeable tonality here. The former was a scrubber; this I want to lean into. Whatever rough edges apparent in the first ten minutes of development, smooth over, while the wormwood begins to feel more plangent, likely due to the oncoming vetiver that softens and shapes it like clay. This is where Un Assenzio feels quite beautiful, even forlorn, a misty, rain-dappled herb garden outside of an old lyceum, sequestered and discreet. Perhaps a bit too discreet, but no less disarming compared to its rather frightful opening. My ambivalence saddens me, but this seems more a matter of the perfumer's wetness behind her ears, but the potential does show in Un Assenzio.