Week-end in Normandy

Week End in Normandy is a perfect unisex Cologne Plus. It has a cologne-esque structure, but its presence, balance, interest, and longevity elevate it from the average short-lived spritzy freshie specimen to a real, actual fragrance that conjures a cool green oasis of a garden on a very hot day--perhaps not the most imaginative description, but this isn't supposed to be something you think too hard about: at the same time, however, it is as delicately balanced and classically elegant as anything Patricia de Nicolai puts her hand to, and the carefully embroidered details are the reason I appreciate it. In fact, this is a Goldilocks kind of fragrance within its family. I wear a lot of green fragrances, many of which are aggressive (not that I mind), like Silences and Futur, that really knock you over the head with galbanum, the freshly mown grass scent that I associate with attentively manicured American suburban lawns and lavishly appointed European city parks; these louder fragrances are classics in their own right, but give ultra-polished vintage vibes that I don't get from Weekend at Normandy--possibly because they're relatively stark in composition. Even the other elements that Weekend shares with greens of yesteryear, jasmine and some white musk, are significantly dialed back. To offer another cliched but useful bit of perfume imagery, the 60s and 70s Statement Greens I just described are painted in bright shiny lacquer--Future, especially, suggests the smooth surface Pop Art--while Weekend is daubed in soft shades, closer to watercolor, although it could also be oil, if you imagine some of the pastoral Impressionist works. Weekend's jasmine smells garden fresh, without a hint of spice, and is tempered with a very civilized muguet; both of these are so well-balanced by the perfume's greenery that the perfume never comes over as floral--just a more interesting green. Nicolai's use of fresh herb accords is where things get interesting, at least for me. Its lemony coriander seed suggests freshly crushed pods, and it sings in lovely harmony with similarly lemony tarragon, one of my abolutely favorite herbs. There is just a tiny bit of anisic edge as the perfume develops, but it's part of the herbal composition, and so well balanced that you really have to look for it. This blends well with the perfume's basil accord, which rounds out the perfume's herbal layer. Without the micro-dose of anise, the perfume would be considerably less interesting, as its overall impression is not edgy: this is a friendly green creature that blends with its surroundings, like a beneficial garden gecko. Yellow flowers warm the heart of the composition and provide the necessary damp quality to round out the impression of a sun-warmed but shady garden, I think every time I write about ylang-ylang, I mention that it smells like humidity, but I can't help it: it just does. Its presence might suggest that the perfume leans in a feminine direction, but it doesn't: it just adds a little sex and intrigue to the perfume's blend, a subtle invitation to lean in, to anyone who gets close enough to you to catch a whiff. Ylang also provides a fleshy impression, which keeps the overall composition from being too virginal (which can sometimes happen with greens, citrus, and muguet): not that this wouldn't be a lovely fragrance for someone young, but it has a sophisticated twist that especially begins to emerge as the perfume develops towards its base materials. The slightly bitter herbal notes and hint of skin from ylang-ylang bind the florals to the perfume's very subtle leather accord, as leather needs both these qualities. This is a very soft leather, the leather of very nice gloves, and it grounds the perfume in a completely non-specific gendered space. I don't get much oakmoss, to be honest, but there is a suggestion of ashy dryness if I really look for it, although the perfume's most obvious base material is its very well-mannered musk. I don't know how Patricia de Nicolai does it, but she makes marvelous perfumes and doesn't ask a fortune in return for her efforts. This perfume is unquestionably her work, with the house codes all present and correct: the silvery jasmine (as opposed to the fat jasmine of a house like Guerlain), the lifelike culinary spices, the exquisite sense of balance, and the complete lack of modern materials--without being stubbornly old-fashioned. Consider the ingredients she chose not to include: there is no patchouli, for example, despite the fact that so many perfumes of this type use it an an anchor. Weekend at Normandy has her signature elegance, sings of quality without whacking you over the head, and I think it's one of the best examples of her flair for complex but still chic creations. I feel fortunate to have a bottle, if it has become as difficult to get as some people tell me it is. No wonder Chanel knocked it off for Paris-Deauville.

Shocked and stunned how beautiful this is. Comes back to perfume being about feeling and emotion which doesn't sit right with my scientist, Vulcan, got to dissect and understand everything brain. Sometimes you just gotta accept something for what it is. And this is a resplendent cologne type scent. The top notes of citrus permeate and last right through I get a twist of lime more than anything else, oh of course bergamot. Not surprised at the mention of galbanum and herbs, there's subtle greenery. Then it's a gentle breezy heart of nondescript muguet. Sounds a bit neggy but I mean it in a... switch off spock brain and stop relentlessly trying to 'KNOW' everything & just let it happen...kinda way. Clearly jasmine in here but perfectly low key. (Edit: just spritzed it again and the opening actually has a banana/cheese smell of florals and real civet almost, but tropical exotic ylang/jasmine which dies back) The Pat finishes you off with a little clump of moss, and her signature off-ness, bitter effect making it superior to most other citrus fragrances that don't seem to understand you need that element to make it even remotely interesting. So it's not really strong or hugely long lived but who cares? the citrus does bleed downwards and remain (somewhat) so it's great in that respect too. I LOVED weekend in Normandy. I sampled it twice and couldn't stop thinking about it over many other Nicolai's I love. It's just one of those lovely things I had to have.

The verdant magnificence of Week-End in Normandy lies in Nicolai's skill with citruses and painterly usage of herbal accords: tarragon, marjoram, basil, mint. These elements merged with the crisp spring flowers makes it feel tart and vibrant, full of life, soaked with lime, leaves, and sunlight. I get unripe bananas, blackcurrant, melting white and yellow petals, and even some sea air, a languorous breeze. When it all unwinds, a sensation of bitter grass and a tasteful Evernyl moss that recalls classics like Chanel Cristalle and Molyneux Quartz remains, but there is Nicolai's signature here, an emerging fleshy, leathery muskiness that is hard to pin down but so gratifying. This is what I actually hoped for Chanel's Bel Respiro to be, but this channels the energy so much better, and is far more substantive, even in its lightweight structure. Its radiance makes a hot oppressive summer day more bearable.

I bought a partial bottle of this and fell in love!. The notes blend together to give me the impression of a deliciously sweet, verdant field of cut grass. I agree with Houdini4 in that the beginning does have an mild animalic stank to it, but it fades to a wonderful blend of greens, florals, and citrus. If I REALLY had to compare this to another fragrance, I would suggest Chanel - Bel Respiro, but Week-end's galbanum note elevates this above Bel Respiro

Stunning green softened by the roundness of ylang and lilly and the plump citrus. Stones and salt. Harmonious herbs, difficult to pick out but also not smelling of the kitchen. Could this be better than my vintage cristalle?