There is nothing else quite like Je Reviens.
It is the blue night, the moon.
A mysterious, troubling perfume that evades classification. A scent with a cool, cerebral langour; a quietness; yet with compelling sexual undertones.
Aldehydes – watery, Venusian – take you to unchartered places in the constellations: a light, aqueous freshness deleting all vulgarity. Draped, cerulean. But then, with a narcotic dose of freshly picked wild narcissus and iris, this moon soon swings to a more tranquil violet floating on lakes aldehydic ; an amphibious, and voluptuous, bath-house atmosphere which is sculpturesque, soothing; familiar.
Beneath, like glowering stalactites in an underground grotto, is a sapient, luminous, accord of woods: an eerie note of incense; and a spiced, medicinal aspect that only serves to make the composition become more distant and strange as it goes from stellar to subterranean : darker, more musked; mesmeric. The perfume thus seems to develop in different directions simultaneously, the delicate aldehyde/floral and spiced/woody accords intertwining vinelike, sporadically, as the unified heart – that brilliant, haunting Je Reviens refrain – emerges elegaically, slowly, from the shadows.
Je Reviens is a melancholy scent ultimately. Not depressing, but not of this world. In the particular vintage bottle I have, it achieves a perfect, alien, orchestration I find tender, arousing, and very beautiful.