Gümüş

Well, I hoped to sneak in the first review of this, but it looks like Mr. Mr. over there beat me to it! I'm not going to read his review yet, because like so many, I'm going into this one blind, and I don't want any outside influence. I fell IN LOVE with Attaupe, but missed out. It's my number one white whale bottle (any offers??), and that is my only experience with John's work, outside of Burvuvu, which I proudly own. Anyway, onto this one. It opens up on skin with an unbelievable sparkle. The "cream aldehydes" are hard at work here. It's so incredibly effervescent and shiny, yet it doesn't translate as an overtly vintage aldehydic top. The sensation it lends is almost as if the scent has the texture of sparkling champagne in a flute. In addition to this sparkle, there's a very high pitched, throaty, scrubby moss element that is immediately noticeable. I'm not sure I can distinguish pine moss from oakmoss (isn't it the same lichen?) but I can tell that this stuff sits very high on the olfactory register. Between the sparkling aldehydes, and the trebley tree moss, there's almost a metallic nuance - not dirty coins or anything, not chrome-hued hedione, but a sort of tinny, glittery shimmer. A sparkle, if you will. Thankfully, this is where the cream accord really steps in, to soften and round off those pointy peaks. There's rose at play, but only just. More than rose, I actually get a fair bit of thyme. Don't picture dried herbs, but fresh, sticky, resinous fragrant thyme sprigs. I cook with it a lot, and it's a scent I'm familiar with. This thyme lends a freshness, with a terpenic green *zing*, which contrasts nicely with the bombastic cream aldehydes - itself, rather sweet and rich. Sniffing up close will really accentuate this fresh thyme, and cast a bit of greenness onto the rose - almost like a beach rose. Orange and bergamot begin to soften, giving in to the sweetness and vanilla, lending a subtle orange creamsicle vibe - though the bergamot smells aged and matured, rather than fresh, bright oil. Drying further down, a soft, vanillic coumarin seems to take the place of vanilla, really bringing that creamsicle note to life. Sherbet, perhaps. I can spot the resinous waft of some myrrh - dark and terpenic, which helps cut the rich thickness of the more amber-sweet resinous base of benzoin. If there's labdanum here, it reads more like a fragrant, fresh, deep gooey resin, rather than that leathery, dry, smouldering type of labdanum. As for castoreum, I don't spot it here, but it could be lending some faint leathery fruitiness that's blending into the base. By the drydown, the sparkle subsides to a soft glisten, never fully disappearing, but allowing the whole of the composition to thicken, soften, and sweeten up. The moss in particular seems to take a back seat more readily than I'm typically used to with oakmoss. By the late stage of things, we have transformed into a sweet, soft, orange and cream base, with a unique floral undercurrent. The thyme has subsided, the moss has settled, and the radiance of the citruses is now a soft glow. Pastelle orange and bergamot. Labdanum, sandalwood, benzoin, and powdery coumarin serve to lend a rounder, plush, pillowy base, with the higher pitched notes and rose just sitting softly above. A sort of flip-flop from start-to-finish. It's such a unique, odd scent. It isn't overtly vintage, and there's something sort of timeless, even modern about it. Simultaneously, it reminds me of late 60's imagery. Not the scent itself, but the overall concept feels borderline psychedelic. Kaleidoscopic fractals and paisleys in shades of orange, purple, maroon, yellow and green. If LSD-at-Woodstock '69 had a fragrance. Maybe the aldehydes lend this trippy effect, but between the shimmer, the glow, the transformation, melding textures, and all out quirkiness, I can't help but find this one a little bit... Trippy. I'd still take Attaupe over this one, but I have a feeling much more time needs to be spent here. There's a lot to unpack. Reminds me of: Not a damn thing. Update: Longevity is pretty stout on this guy, and a single spray to the back of my hand in the afternoon is detectable well into the early hours of the morning. Sillage is not monstrous or bombastic, but it isn't shy, and I suspect the aldehydes really push it. An ultra-simplified blurb explanation? A shimmering, sparkling, glittery abstract orange creamsicle with a rose swirl, a mossy halo, and a powdery backdrop, with a trippy shapeshifting effect. Psychedelic. Extroverted. A chypre on acid. Vintage through a futuristic lense. Beautifully strange.

I bought Attaupe, JSP’s previous limited edition release, in 2021 as a gift for myself, and it was an instant love, so this year I picked up Gümüş for my wife. Gümüş is a re-imagining of a classic chypre where a tart top end gives way to a smooth amber base over time. Like its predecessor, Attaupe, it feels simultaneously modern and classic, but what really stands out in this composition is the pine tree moss used as a substitute for the oakmoss you’d normally see in a composition like this one but which has lately been used less and less due to IFRA regulations. Where oakmoss might normally serve to soften aldehydes and citruses in a chypre composition, tree moss seemingly does not. Instead, the moss here feels green, ever-so-slightly shrill (trebly), and somewhat less complex compared to the oakmoss one might be accustomed to finding in, say, Rogue’s compositions. It does not have oakmoss’s effect of wrapping the citruses and aldehydes in a warm, powdery scent blanket, producing a homogeneous accord in the process, but instead it leaves the top notes exposed to the elements. In order to counteract this and (I assume) to introduce a substitute for oakmoss’s powderiness, a cream aspect has been added to the aldehydes which somewhat reduces the sparkly effect they might normally give off in favor of a more sleek scent character. Strangely, this inclusion in combination with the tree moss and citruses produces a bit of a metallic tinge which really drives home the scent’s name: “silver.” Overall, it’s a very interesting effect. Together, the components of the opening read as the modern frame for a vintage core, which is essentially a gorgeous amber scent with touches of rose, myrrh, and thyme. The castoreum here is present but not overused by any means, so I wouldn’t describe the scent as animalic or leathery. And over time, the sharpness of the opening does fade away to reveal something very warm and inviting. So, while I respect the work that went into composing the opening, and while I do enjoy the floral heart, it’s the drydown that really works for me. As a chypre, Gümüş feels a bit like watching an old film remastered in 8k– clear, vivid, sharp, and precise, but less warm than the original format, and revealing of its “grain” as a result of the enhanced definition, or it’s like looking under the hood of a refurbished classic automobile where all of the components are exposed in front of you. It’s a scent that feels less concerned with smelling like a typical chypre than it is with saying, “this is what a chypre is in 2023," so it feels as much about where perfumery is headed as where it’s been. Where my wife is concerned, none of this overanalysis comes into play. For her, it’s a nice rosy, sophisticated scent that she’s excited to break out on formal occasions. Good alternative for when she wants to wear something opulent but doesn’t feel like wearing Portrait of a Lady. My hope is that she’ll wear it with abandon. Can't wait to see what comes next from the brand.

I absolutely adore this scent. I'm not a "nose" by any stretch and will not pretend to know how every ingredient John has used in this composition works with the next. However, I do love complex and unusual perfumes, plus I also have a strong affinity for classic and vintage scents. I am relatively new to John's work, and almost felt unworthy when ordering this as I only owned one of his other fragrances at the time, but I am so thrilled to have it. It has become my go-to rainy day fragrance. It suits my mood perfectly during stormy nights stuck inside, and it also works quite beautifully as a bedtime/wind down scent. I get strong cola vibes from it, as if you took a Cherry Coke, but swapped out the cherry with rose, leaving you with Rose Coke. Its beautifully fizzy and ambery, with the rose giving just the right amount of jammy sweetness. (The rose very much reminds me of that which can be found in Tauerville Rose Flash.). The scent lasts for hours and hours, becoming softer as it goes, but continues to bless you with its presence. It truly is a shame this is was a limited run, as I am sure it would be a great addition to the main line (and I'm selfishly scared to run out since half of my bottle is gone already.) Alas, /i know those antique oils are rare and can only make so much juice. Thank you, John. I'm happy to be a part of your tribe now, and am looking forward to the new scents and bottles coming our way.

This is not a review but rather a comment of a pleasant surprise because I didn't know you made perfumes, John ! This is especially interesting to see since the fragrance's name means 'silver' in my language, Turkish. Would like to hear or read about your inspiration behind it !