The Black Narcissus










A person’s reaction to any art form is always highly subjective, and this is especially true of perfume: one man’s Poison really is another man’s cat piss.

And after reading perfume collective Cafleurebon’s recent review of Byredo’s tarry Black Saffron I was amazed :  the talk of soft black violets, dewy crystal roses, and soft, enveloping wisps of Hindi saffron stigmas bore almost no resemblance to my personal experience of this  fragrance, which, while cleverly put together and in some ways obviously attractive, feels to me more like an assault.

I adore saffron, and have an involuntary reflex action whenever I open my little jar of fragrant ochre strands in the kitchen (usually when I make my signature pasta dish of crab and salmon in a white wine saffron tomato and white cabbage sauce): a cross between a groan and a sigh, a slightly…

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