Nightingale

Now finally a real perfume (I have more on the way to test) from this brand. A true perfume and not a weird "scent" or boring shampoo not worth the expense of a full bottle since this is a pricey brand. But nightingale is truly beautiful and worthy of the elegant creature the fragrance represents. Nightingale starts off bitter and sharp like the high pitched call of a bird piercing the still night air. It startled the senses but that feeling quickly fades as you realize the sweet melody that the bird song has become. Nightingale is almost indescribable and undefinable in it's beauty. Floral with violet taking the staring role, rose and plum blossom as supporting cast. Think of the most beautifully scented cosmetic cream mingling with fresh cut flowers from a hothouse or someone's well cared for garden mingling with church incense, animalic musks and soft pillowy moss. These scents mingle with one another and drift in and out as if they are dancing on your skin. This perfume starts off bold and piercing like the mating call of a bird then becomes the beautiful and sweet bird song announcing the arrival of spring and the promise of new life to come. As it gently fades away on skin it is the softest whisper of faint florals soft tea like greens, moss and animalic musks. This is a true perfume and a perfume that is deeply connected to the essence of nature. This is a stunning and very elegant creation. Absolutely breathtaking. I am contemplating a full bottle. Edit: Ida Meister describes Nightingale better than I ever could....."Nightingale has several faces: sometimes I feel her as a scintillatingly floral, bright, brash even. Other moments she is a cloud of face powder sheathed in a dusky base, mysterious and haunting." IMO Nightingale is a masterpiece, plain and simple. A postmodern classic with a glorious respect for the past. Right up there with Jean Patou Joy, 1000, Sublime. It is a floral dream just like those greats were and still are. I stopped contemplating and just bought a bottle. I could not resist the siren song of this beautiful, and captivating bird.

Someone on Reddit recently commented that they find long backstories in perfume reviews to be obnoxious. I couldn't help but wonder if they were right. For example, was it my moral imperative to inform my reader of my opinion immediately, so I wouldn't waste their time? Should I put that the fragrance Nightingale by Zoologist is one of my favorites ever, an easy 10/10 Buy It Again and Again? That I will literally own until they discontinue it, at which point I will freak out and buy three backup bottles even if it means I have to keep a little debt on my credit card for a month or two? The notes chart and the rating are right there on the Fragrantica page, after all...was this redditor really trusting a random person with a profile picture of Simba and/or Princess Mononoke to tell them whether or not they should buy a $200 bottle of perfume? Or if they were more reasonable, a sample/decant (sidenote: I recommend the sample from the site if you can get it. TRY this beautiful thing if the style or notes look at all appealing to you)? I don't know, guys, I kind of like reading about your crazy stories and beautiful memories. There was a time during COVID when my favorite part of the day was walking to the park at twilight, finding a patch of grass to sit in, listening to music on my headphones, and sniffing my wrist repeatedly to enjoy whatever Zoologist perfume I was wearing. Those were really special, lovely moments, and this floral wonder - soft as a blossom and rich as a rose garden - became my favorite. It is mystical and gorgeous and it makes me feel like I'm part of the beautiful part of the world when I wear it. And only other fragrance nerds really know how special that can be, so I'm glad that we get to share those things here together.

Where to start with Nightingale. The brand does a far better job than I can (and how nice it is to read beautiful prose in a brand's perfume press blurb for once): "Messengers of spring arrive, bearing gifts that bring smiles to faces dulled by winter’s chill. The joyous song of the nightingale accompanies vibrant fuchsia-colored aromas of Japanese plum blossoms as they spread, infusing the tepid air.... [Nightingale is] a pink floral chypre that will melt your heart. It opens with rich scents of saffron and rosy, powdery, tart Japanese plum blossoms, enveloping the core of the perfume like a luxurious silk kimono. Deep, warm aromas of oud, patchouli, moss, incense and ambergris seek to escape, seeping from the ruddy petals, to create a composition that’s complex and at the same time, simply desirable." That's 100% accurate. All I would add in terms of olfactory notes is that there seems to be a slight oily/fatty note in there of nuts or sesame seeds, but perhaps that is just my imagination playing tricks on me; Nightingale has that rarest and most wonderful of qualities of triggering vivid and illusory images and emotions in your mind's eye. This perfume is gorgeous. It emanates the happiest and most swoon-worthy hues of purple and pink florals and fruits I've smelled in a very long time. I appreciate the technical care gone into it as well, notably being that the base is not a separate act that rushes to the forefront sooner rather than later to create an excuse for good longevity; the heart and base are masterfully stitched together and inseparable. Zoologist has several great perfumes, but I would find it difficult to argue against a statement of this being the best.

I got the full set of Zoologist fragrances which I'm going through one-at-a-time, and I absolutely expect this one to be not-me. Heavy florals, and a heavy feminine skew according to the reviews. Still, I appreciate good fragrance even if it's not for me, so I'm intrigued to give this a go. Moth by the same perfumier is clearly well-composed, but a heavy, too-out-there scent for me personally. I'm eager to experience the same level of craftsmanship, minus the one-step-into-the-Twilight-Zone that is Moth. Here we go... Nightingale opens sweet, floral, heavy, and citrusy. Vintage and appealing, and slightly grounded by either the saffron or the base notes. It's not a sweetness-and-flowers overload. It's not dusty/musty so I although it references heavy, vintage women's fragrances, it doesn't scream "grandma" to me. A woman aged 20-60 could absolutely wear this. It stays sweet, floral, cheerful and charming from its opening onward, for several hours and keeps right on going. The citrus fades quickly as would you expect for a chypre, but the happy florals continue. I almost can envision myself wearing this — despite being a middle-aged gay man who strongly prefers dark, funky fragrances. It's that personable. There's no sneak attack in the drydown either. Overall: high praise for this one even if I'm not the target market. An excellent choice for anyone looking for cheerful and complex floral scents.

When I was 20 I did have a pet nightingale for several years; exactly as the one in the bottle – a Pekin Robin (Leiothrix lutea). The little thing could never stay put, motionless, would jump and hop all day long. This fragrance from the demicrazy-bold house Zoologist pays good honor to aethereal jumpiness, subtle little feet and nuance shades of feathers and song. I love this Nightingale Parfum, I admire its complexity and utter delicate construction. The Japanese plum and violet come immediately to me (actually more so than the head notes described by Zoologist)... the moss, musk and ambergris keep on hopping back for very long. I really believe these notes are hopping, rather than evolving linearly as a mere commercial fragrance does. With Nightingale we can experience notes unveiling and veiling a little again, only to signal their presence later on, and again. Love the geisha kimono and rose-tinted juice that clearly target women, and yet make it so deliciously transgressive to wear it as a man and allow a different skin chemistry (allegedly) play tricks on this bouncy little Jack*. No Zoologist fragrance is, in my opinion, truly “for men” or “for women” as compositions are just too wild for that! Which is refreshing. (*Jack was the name of my long time passed pekin robin, RIP)