Porter Sa Peau L'Objet Parfumant

The pollen forming a galaxy in the cool spring air, the chill rendered bearable by the sun's higher angle. "They say it's spring, this feeling light as a feather" as Blossom Dearie sang. Porter sa Peau ('Wearing Your Skin') is the second release from photographer/artist Roberto Greco's L'Objet Parfumant, is the complement to his series of images that present memories as refracted through mirrors, misty, just out of focus. One, entitled “Reflecting my Narcissus”, brings us to the perfumed object we have here, composed by Rodrigo Flores-Roux. It greets me with aldehydes not unlike the ones experienced in 20s-30s classics from Lanvin or Weil, with the spring-yellow florals in a gauzy musk, and the aroma of hawthorn blossoms, at once downy and dirty, sweet and sinister, compounded by earthy-musky angelica root, and what is brought into the foreground is the narcissus. The flowers with their sunny faces, looking at you as if you are their mirror, green-spiced anticipation, their cornets releasing their curiously animalic undertones into the pollen galaxy. A warm, salty skin effect envelops me now. I donned a new skin, one that is an amalgam of the tender and brutal myths. It's almost vertiginous in its effect, facets of just disrobed underthings tossed on the floor and sexy eyes, and the walk with this object of desire in the spring garden, they start to merge. The feeling of idyllic, vernal scenes superimposed over the erotic body lusting after more, giving into instinct. The use of hyraceum that becomes just ever so apparent, sends me beyond the brink. Freshly laundered clothes saturated with the sweat of anticipation, and freshly cut narcissus on the nightstand. It is still daylight, and we can wait no longer. Sex, sunshine, and nostalgia, who could resist enjoy all three at once? Porter sa Peau is nothing less than brilliant; another gem after the breathtaking Oeilleres.

#sotd Porter Sa Peau by Roberto Greco - A Skin-Like Solace Porter Sa Peau is a testament to the art of perfumery that embodies the essence of skin-like comfort. This scent is a symphony of notes, expertly blended to evoke a sense of intimacy and serenity. At its core, Porter Sa Peau is a clean and delicate fragrance, with a floral heart that showcases the beauty of narcissus. The narcissus note is subtle yet striking, adding a sweet, waxy nuance that's both alluring and understated. The hawthorn note adds a slightly tart, fruity quality that enhances the floral accord. However, it's the combination of aldehydes, ambergris, and musk that truly sets Porter Sa Peau apart. The aldehydes provide a subtle sparkle, like the soft glow of candlelight on skin. The ambergris adds a sensual, skin-like warmth, while the musk provides a deep, animalic depth. This blend creates a soapy, skin-like quality that's both comforting and alluring. As the fragrance evolves, the musk and ambergris notes become more pronounced, adding a sensual, animalic warmth that's both comforting and alluring. The narcissus and hawthorn notes linger in the background, providing a subtle, floral nuance that rounds out the scent. Porter Sa Peau is a fragrance that's both delicate and alluring, perfect for those who appreciate a subtle, skin-like scent that's both comforting and seductive. With its masterful blend of notes, this fragrance is a true solace for the senses.

I really like this a lot for many of the same reasons I'm a fan of Amouage Dia Woman. There's definitely a soapy or laundry edge at work here and I wouldn't lead you to the guillotine for crying "dryer sheets!" The quality of the scent is apparent and these aren't negatives for me - but your mileage may vary. On my skin this opens with a musky-aldehydic floral melange tinged with a pleasant bitterness that would be at home in the house of Guerlain. The promotional material referencing both cool and hot facets is spot on and it's the general feeling of this push and pull interplay that keeps Porter Sa Peau interesting for me. Big fan of the musk combination at play here. This is a perfume that conjures an atmosphere much like Serge Luten's De Profundis does for me. The two obviously don't smell alike but they both take me to a place like having my head out of the window in an idyllic locale. There's a certain irony to that considering the theme of self introspection behind the work, but maybe that place is inside of us after all? Over time this shifts a bit warmer on me as the musk starts to take over and some subtle woody facets come out to play. Overall pretty enamoured and quite happy to have snapped up a bottle. Just watch your sprays as this one has definite character and an "iron fist in a velvet glove" kind of vibe that likes to build as it warms on skin.

After a flash of liqueur-like aldehydes, Porter Sa Peau settles into a musky, fuzzy, pollen-y yellow floral of narcissus and ylang-ylang. if Oeilleres (the other Roberto Greco perfume) was like zooming in on a single facet of an older woody chypre like Mystere or Aromatics Elixir, Porter sa Peau is the same trick of zooming in, but on a classic spring floral chypre like Chamade. we don’t get the trill of flowers, just the fuzzy skin musk and the slightly dusky, breathy scent of narcissus. it’s deliciously comfortable, and feels like an extension of my person. Porter sa Peau is one of those musky, beige “second skin” scents, same category as Kiehl’s Musk and Muscs Koublai Khan, but a little less sweet and more floral than either. An introverted, soft, daydreamy musk. (if you like narcissus and musks but you want a complex, multi-stage “feature film” of a fragrance rather than Porter sa Peau’s minimalist monochrome “vibe reel”, Papillon Hera and Masque Milano Romanza are also amazing.)

I discoverd "Porter sa peau" during the exhibition in Paris. I really enjoyed the way the photographer Roberto Greco translate the sensations coming from his pictures to the perfume he worked with Rodrigo Flores-Roux. By many ways, this perfume opens a door to the world of his creator... And actually, it matches a part of mine. Soft feeling of powdery musks, bright lights of the aldehydes, creamy profoundness of the flowers, all of this images coming out of the bottle are an answer to the grain and swiping colors of the photographs. Time is running slowly as well as the perfume that sets down to the skin. Its expression feels like the 80's, but the structure, technique and deployment used by the perfumer are definitely modern. I purchased it after the exhibition and enjoy it particularly these days, as the light rarify and the temperatures fall.

A stunning retro scent - yes it could be your grandmother's skin as another reviewer said but I'm a cool girl and pull this off well. It's all in your attitude. A blast of narcissus and hawthorn, all through a haze of pollen that tingles in your nose, then a aldehydic and salty musk drydown. I am a sucker for a salty musk! Between this fizzy opening and musky drydown you get a smooth transition livened up with some sassy ylang. I only get the orris through depth and texture, you can close your eyes and just tumble. I almost get a bit dizzy in a good way. The spray is very fine and light, which fits actually. Moderate wear.

Sensual, intellectual, transformative, Porter Sa Peau resonates on each of these (often opposing) levels, with notes that shapeshift between sea and air, overrun growth and floral arrangement, and tenderness and hard-earned sweat. This bottle conjures the skin after a day well spent. Pure experience. I revel in the sheer enjoyment of being the conduit from which the liquid in bottle can be released and received. Silage is close to the skin and personal. Of course.

This is one of my favorite perfumes. It’s very vintage feeling and can stand toe to toe with N°5, yet there’s something quite modern and futuristic about it too. It feels very intimate, and is something I reserve to wear just for me. I would be willing to trade a sealed backup of this for something very specific— a bottle of Diptyque’s discontinued Kimonanthe. CONUS. Serious inquiries only, please.

Everything I love is in here: airy aldehydes, beautiful florals, chypre facets and animalic nuances, all beautifully blended by a true master perfumer: Rodrigo Flores-Roux. A delicate, subtle, bright fragrance with the shimmering luster of a pearl!

Gorgeous frag and definitely will be my soul scent. The perfect blend: open as natural narcissus and after very natural warm clean skin scent (NOT smell like a synthetic musk) LOVE IT. A second excellent masterpiece from Roberto.

The second L'Objet Parfumant created by Rodrigo Flores-Roux in collaboration with Roberto Greco, Porter Sa Peau, is a clever and well-put-together perfume composition, much like the other two, Œillères and Rauque. What I appreciate about all is that you can tell by smelling and wearing them how a lot of thinking and preparation went into creating them. Years of back and forth, brainstorming, and much work. If only more perfumes would follow this creative process... Porter Sa Peau, as the name implies, is a fragrance that tries to convey the idea of wearing one's skin. A perfume that would merge with your persona and become more than a figurative extension of oneself. And it does smell like that. From the moment you wake up and take a shower, go out and mind about your day, meet your loved one, spend some time together, and end up sharing the evening as well. It evolves cleverly through all of these stages. A burst of aldehydes in the opening suggests the cleanliness. It comes across as soapy in this stage. The heart is infused with floral accords such as narcissus, a flower which oftentimes has a leathery, musky odor, and hawthorn, for a slightly powdery, musky, and dry feel. They pair together well further accentuating the idea of the skin smell, which, as the day goes by, starts to lose the soapy odor and produce its natural one. As you meet your lover and share some fun time so does the base of this perfume get quite naughty, with plenty of ambergris and musks. Hence, the circle is now complete, and the day is over, ready to start fresh tomorrow, hopefully just as eventful. A clever composition with a cohesive and clear progression. It is my least favorite in the perfume trio, as I'm not too fond of aldehydes or pretty floral compositions, and by the time it gets sweaty enough for me, I'm left wanting to spray something else. However, I appreciate its creativity, and I'm sure many would find it irresistible. I guess I'm more of a country-side boy, so I'll spray my Rauques and Œillères. IG:@memory.of.scents

Porter Sa Peau by Roberto Greco is a fragrance that seamlessly marries elegance and simplicity, mirroring the design ethos of its exquisite bottle—an object of beauty that, in my opinion, surpasses all others I've encountered. The bottle's minimalist charm, with its cream white body accented by a subtle touch of bright red on the cap, complemented by delicate typography, is visually captivating. The accompanying box, featuring a softly blurred floral motif, adds a touch of emotional resonance. The fragrance itself opens with a lively interplay of aldehydes and yellow florals, offering an uplifting and radiant introduction. However, it's in the dry down that its true character emerges—a sense of purity and tranquility that goes beyond conventional notions of cleanliness. It's less about cleansing the physical and more about radiating an inner serenity. While it may be categorized as a clean, skin-like scent, Porter Sa Peau distinguishes itself with an ethereal quality, suffused with light, making it a unique olfactory experience. Additionally, it's worth noting that this fragrance is exceptionally versatile and easy to wear.

My grandpa bought narcissus bulbs every winter. He cut and trimmed the bulbs himself and took care of them. The narcissus flowers bloomed just before Chinese New Year and our home was filled with the fragrance of narcissus during the festive time. He has passed away and I have not smelled narcissus since. Until I found Porter Sa Peau. Strong aldehydes and narcissus, very nostalgic feeling, with a hint of dry woodiness from patchouli and leather. As it is warmed up by the skin, it becomes smoother, slightly salty and sweet, very 'skin-like'. Porter Sa Peau turns from a metal armour (aldehydes) to a soft white shirt (musk) and finally to your own skin (ambergris/hyrax). From cold to warm, hard to soft, this perfume evolves until it becomes one with your skin. Amazing experience. I may be biased since narcissus gives me so many memories. This is too good to miss if you like aldehyde floral scents.

This is a very pleasant and unusual floral. It sits easily towards the top of the list of the best perfumes Rodrigo-Flores Roux has ever composed. However, it feels "rushed" somehow, incomplete. This thought could be an issue of holding too high of a standard for Porter Sa Peau to meet after the absolutely brilliant Rauque composed by the one-and-only Christopher Sheldrake - an unfair bar to set for Porter Sa Peau and Flores-Roux. If I can successfully suspend any unfair biases and judge Porter Sa Peau on its own merits, as I should, I'm still getting that thought that something is missing. Despite this though, it's a nice floral and I hold to my opening statement. The most interesting part of PsP - to me, anyway - are the aldehydes. Somehow RFR has managed to present them as both cold and hot. Normally aldehydes shimmer and sparkle in a weightless and bright powdery light that cools and caresses you, but in PsP they feel ominous. The light, gone. The sparkle and shimmer, gone. The powdery clean texture, gone. But then into your nose goes the florals of narcissus, jasmine, hawthorn, rose, and the gentlest touch of citrusy sweet ylang-ylang, which is going to make you pause and say "wait, are the aldehydes now presenting as they typically do?" It's a very clever trick by RFR to use dark and sinister aldehydes but to occasionally give them lightness and shimmering beauty through the slightly citrusy and bright notes that come with the florals. And then after that - which is a considerable amount of time later, thanks to this extrait concentration? Well, it just seems to 'stop'. It's like the perfume closes up and shuts down on you as it goes to a simple skin scent of salty musks. There are remnants of what came before that you didn't really notice. You pick up notes of patchouli, leather, mosses, maybe some woods, that were buried in that very evocative opening and heart; keys to the cypher that RFR created when you wonder how he did what he did with those aldehydes. But those remnants are so minute and fleeting compared to the ample salty musks that you think they're an illusion - maybe even unintentional. This is like having an intense and compelling conversation with someone that you want to continue and let the discourse evolve, but then the person just shuts down on you in silence. Read Roberto Greco's description of the perfume and its inspiration and you can see that RFR achieves the mandate to exacting parameters. But why? Why do this? One wonders at this stage of the perfume's life, having been given this information, that perhaps the issue with the perfume is what has inspired it. A better muse would have yielded a more complete perfume. Technically, there is absolutely nothing wrong with the perfume; it is marvelously executed. But it leaves you wanting, just as the perfume - were it capable of rational thought and intelligible language - would say that the inspiration left it wanting as well. Nonetheless, quite good, and one of the most intriguing florals I've smelled in quite some time.

I recognised the smell straight away; my grandmother’s skin. In fact, this is the smell of anyone you’ve ever loved that has loved you back. This is comforting maternal hugs and nostalgic security in a bottle. I could describe the notes, but I’ve already said everything you really need to know.

Opens with bright aldehydic narcissus and ylang, almost fruit juicy, fresh aromatic clary sage in sunshine. This is an expression of exuberant, optimistic later-blooming narcissus on a warm and sunny May afternoon. This isn’t pitchy, pinchy, fussy green narcissus in cool March. For me, the real pleasure comes afterward and for the majority of its’ long lifespan on the skin. Soon begins a story about the scent of warm narcissus in the air. Not the cool, green, wet, living plant but the surrounding pollen and sillage, matte and sun-baked. Like the old illustration/ad for Caron Le Muguet Du Bonheur a musk deer prances on the perimeter of a blooming garden. This air is dense with luxurious beige orris powder, the sueded leather texture it casts on the grass and leaves, and the sweet, intimate scent of dried sweat, the charming body odor of someone blessed with an attractive personal scent. The edge of this warm base still carries traces of yellow and white flower petals, quiet and one with my own skin. Overall the image that comes to mind is a group of beautiful flower farmers asleep in the 3pm sun. It’s dreamily, passively carnal safe to wear anywhere you wish to give off the vibe of a living, breathing Aphrodite. Long after the sillage dies down my skin still smells like jasmine and tolu balsam. I would purchase a bottle if I was more androgynous or female as it compliments a feminine beauty more. 5 out of 5. This is one I kick myself for not buying.

Well, basically the translation of Porter sa peau it is double, can be wear your own skin or wear hisher skin which will be a totally different meaning and concept. The first translation will be an hymn to himself. The second it is a tribute an homage a dedication to someone else, a love, a mother. But the author prefer the self celebrative version. Never tested. It Sounds interesting. I like the simple bottle like a tender bar soap.

The aldehydes drown out everything else in this perfume for me. I wanted to really smell the narcissus but the aldehydes...