Ostara

This is really a discountinued gem; in production at Penhaligon's for just one year, and I ranked it as one of Duchafour's best creation. Ostara as a name derives from the Anglo-Saxon word Eostre who is a deity that represents ribirth, new beginning and spring and it was celebrated the day of spring equinox. The name of the perfume then agrees with its date of release, Easter 2015 and it is inteded by Duchafour to be a narcissus (daffodil) soliflore: that delicate flower tha blooms just at the very end of winter. I believe Duchafour is right as I consider Ostara the most vivid and photorealistic interpretation of that fragile flower that is the narcissus; beware: do not get fool by the abudance of notes in the pyramid (as typical of Duchafour) as all elements are there to highlight some of the characterist of this flower. The fresh flower smells different from the absolute with its crisp cleaness if you smell it from afar, but as you get close to the yolk centre you will smell something a little bit stinky, more indolic even slightly animalic. the closest thing to the real narcissus in term of raw material is para cresyl acetate, which smells significantly different fromm the absolute. And it is the latter that I believe was used here in abundance. It opens quite greenish, possesses creamy floralcy reminiscent of tuberose absolute, but layered with far more greenery reminiscent of mint, hay and tomato leaf absolute. There's something dirty and slightly repulsive about it - almost like a heap of rotting garden weeds. The dryout is reminiscent of hay, and is a tad powdery. Another absolute that was used in Ostar is jonquil absolute: its scent is sweeter and more floral (tuberose-like) and honeyed with hay and green undertones very similar to that of the narcissus absolute, . It is heavy, honeylike, it possesses a deep-sweet floral odor with a strong green undertone and a somewhat bitter, very tenacious dryout note. The odor bears great similarity to the fragrance of longoza and tuberose, and a remote resemblance to hyacinth. If we take all this into account, you can see that the pyramid moves around the narcissus and it was designed to hghligh its characteristics. But how does Ostara really smell and which images does it conjur up? It opens up like a luminous day in early spring: narcissus is prominent since the beginning with its waxy petals, the pollen in its yolk centre (beeswax) and the green of the stems (violet leaf, cassis, and green notes). the cumulative effect is very nectared. to join the narciss there is a sort of pastel purple liquidity that comes from the hyacinths, A trace of earthiness lingers at the base below, the dark earth of sweet, slightly damp loamy soil through which green shoots of grass, mint, and violet leaf as they are poking out their heads in response to Spring's call. Now, fro what I have heard and read around, the degree of greeness depends on your skin chemistry; in my case the green notes are not very prominent while in others they verge on tomato leaves. I am less enthused by the drydown with the white very clean musk that penhaligon's likes to use with the aldheydic soapiness and crispiness. Sillage is intimate starting from 2 inches above skin then at the two hour marks it hovers just 0.5 inches above skin; longevity roughtly eight hours: performance are then consistent with Penhaligon's standard (and Duchafour). I do not think as Persolaise claims that this may be discontinued because of a bad name choice; I tend to think that the high cost of narcissus absolute (which is not used it sparingly here) may be the culprit: Ostara may had been not so rewarding in terms of financial return. Overall, Ostara is a very transporting experience when we are ready to accept the cycle of decline and ri-birth that is our all too human life. Follow me on IG @alexolympia6 Thx.

One of the best soliflores of late. If course this concoction, being a masterpiece of the Great Master Msr Duchauffour himself, is an intricate and skillfully interwoven fabric of everything floral and spring: you have the "broken tulip stems" moment, the woodsy-ylang-ylang one, the sharp and bitter green one, the aldehydic-hyacinth, the fresh and paper mache vanillic wafer moment, and everything else that conjures up the olfactory picture and expectation of an egg-yolk yellow burst of sunshine that we are currently experiencing here in London. I remember when it was released last year, I was so desperate and yearning for its launch, but it came too late in the year, meaning all daffs had already gone by the time it was ready for the market. This year I can fully indulge in being on time and in season and it is so wonderful! There is also a slightly medicinal note in there that reminds me of my early childhood visits to the "Reformhaus" in Germany (a mixture of Holland & Barret meets pharmacy), where my mother would reward me for good behaviour with some honey-herbal lozenges or some wafer fingers full of organic berry paste. Concluding, this is a very poetic release, meaning you feel as if you are in an old exhibition place of the RHS (Royal Horticultural Society) on a cold and stormy, typical unpredictable London weather day with recitals and book signings as it is that sophisticated. It is somewhat sharp but not unpleasantly so, as there is enough vanilla-papery-waffle-esque sweetness without any cloying. It is just an ode to the humble daffodil that is such a hero in bringing this charming dash of lovely yellow onto the lawns, the meadows, the forrest peripheries, the flowerbeds, the gardens all over the country. OSTARA I love you forever and unconditionally! A 'solifleur' masterpiece and a text book example of what abstract perfumery with lyrical content really is meant to be 10/10. Leaning towards the XX but can be easily worn by a charming (if slightly dandy inspired) XY.

This really is just beautiful - I can't think of another word to describe it. Bertrand Duchaufour's work can be challenging, but Ostara is not one of his more avant-garde creations. His hyper-realistic treatment of flowers here is very similar to his work on Flora Bella for Lalique Narcissus has been voted the dominant note, but - to me - Ostara smells more like fresh hyacinths, with other flowers shyly peeking out from behind their more forward sister. As it dries down, Ostara starts to smell exactly like a florists, with stems, leaves... the whole caboodle. I got the same sort of florist shop vibe from Roja Dove Lilac, which I also love (but am disappointed by its sillage and longevity). There are no such issues with Ostara, which bounds out of the bottle and rams your nose squarely into a fresh, lush bouquet of flowers. Reviewer SuzanneS has remarked below that Ostara's aldehydes are not of the vintage variety and I can testify this to be true - if they were, I would be running to the bathroom in terror to scrub before the headache and nausea set in. Aldehydes are the reason I cannot deal with many vintage perfumes and why No.5 leaves me cold; I don't pick up on them at all in Ostara, but they are probably responsible for its fresh, bright qualities. Although discontinued, Ostara is still available on eBay UK for a reasonable price at the time of writing (August 2018). I think I need to purchase a backup bottle as I never want to be without it; to put this in context, I have over 700 bottles of individual perfumes and backups of very few. Ostara really is THAT good. Despite Ostara's exuberant opening, sillage and longevity are both moderate. If you love floral perfumes (without a rose in sniffing distance) you really should try Ostara.

Ostara is more than a fragrance. Ostara is an experience. Ostara is a time capsule, a witch's spell that transforms a bland and dusty winter room to a bright green and dew kissed, loamy, early spring garden. Truly a magic carpet ride to springtime, no matter the time of year. Hundreds of daffodils bloom in my garden every spring and many mornings find me sweater-clad, kneeling on damp grass to push my nose against blossom after blossom, inhaling deeply as every breath erases the memory of another gray winter day and clears space for spring in my lungs and soul. While my mom is the soliflore fan in the family and I nearly always prefer the scent of a mixed bouquet, Ostara delights both of us. Curiously, to me Ostara is 100% cool daffodils sniffed outdoors so the overall floral scent includes a sharp, cold green and a damp, loamy aspect yet, improbably, warmed by beeswax and honey. My mom, the soliflore fan remember, smells a warm indoor bouquet of daffodil, hyacinth, lily, orange blossom and honey. I find it beautifully linear - all honey-sweetened daffodil from start to finish while she smiles through the blossoming of one floral after another. Mom and I both get about 5 hours from 3-5 sprays and find the sillage moderate, that is, safe to wear just about anywhere at anytime of day or night, whether you'll be in close quarters or not. It's beyond my comprehension why Penhaligon's decided to discontinue this bit of God's breath descending to bless the early days of spring. I'm grateful for my bottle and will add another before Ostara disappears.

An absolutely stunning creation. Very sorry it has been discontinued, but I bought a 3.3oz bottle so hopefully I'm set for a long while. If you grew up in the North where winters are brutal and spring is quite a celebration this fragrance is likely to be nostalgic. It smells like a Northern spring, the flowers are all there, mixed up together with dew and cool breezes. The scent is heavy with pollen, very rich. It's undeniably floral, but the drydown is more than floral, though I can't really identify exactly what is mixed in there. Daffodil really is the star here, but there's hints of all sorts of other flowers, the whole garden gets in on the fun. The bottle is very simple and retro, the box is gorgeous. And I love that the name harkens back to ancient celtic rites of spring. It's the perfect name for a fragrance that absolutely smells like spring. What better to name something like this? Update after a couple weeks of wear. This is still lovely as ever but I think the drydown has become my favorite part. The opening is like sticking your face right into a patch of blooming narcissus it is so realistic. But the drydown is far more evocative. You know those wet spring days where you go for a walk, and the air is cool and breezy. And on that breeze there is this lovely sweet fresh floral scent? You can't quite tell where it's coming from but you find yourself breathing deeply, totally enchanted? That's Ostara's drydown. :)