And, in the top we have : : : Aldehydes, Ylang Ylang, Galbanum, Violets, Whiskey, Saffron
In the heart: : : Tuberose, Carnation, Heliotrope, Incense, Leather
And In the base: : : : : Musk, Vanilla, Opoponax, Patchouli, Vetiver…..
I spray on the perfume and I can immediately smell Bertrand Duchaufour. Ah yes, unmistakeably his signature; that familiar, directional, semi-cacophonous dissonance that always, subsequently, coagulates into something more legible – out there – but usually quite fun. That modern laboratory edginess that sometimes strikes me as being over-intellectualized, never instinctual; over-complicated, even, but still, on the whole, rather undeniably pleasing and bright.
Recently, I have come round to this perfumer more and more. His Traversée Du Bosphore is a luminous slice of cosmopolitan Turkish Delight I can’t help but enjoy; I was amused and somewhat swept away by his recent metallic pineapple-fest Déliria, and as for Sartorial, I think I am going to let Duncan tell his side of the story about that one. On him it is wonderful and straightforwardly gorgeous.
Tralala, a cute name, in a cute bottle (if you ask me; I am always somewhat drawn to the carnival; magic toyshops; puppetry and the grotesque) is not quite what you might expect from the waywardly bizarre list of ingredients. Reading those on paper, I would be expecting a heavy orient; brusque, thick, and dense, whereas in reality, as befits the name, the scent is more of a sweet, dangly legged thing that wants to bop about like an overexcited jack-in-the-box in a toy shop.
On my skin, Tralala opens on an effervescent, cherry-leather uplifting overture of red fruit, tuberose, and aldehydes with just a tiny touch of the pre-mentioned whiskey: this is not a ‘boozy’ type of perfume by any means, not liquourous, oozing or honey-thick. No: this is upbeat, fresh, and zany: soon, the white musks and vanilla will hook up willingly with the ylang ylang and the violets to become, strangely, a perfume that was the star of the show at Duchaufour’s alma mater L’Artisan Parfumeur; to me, this perfume is essentially the classic Mûre Et Musc gone haywire. A snazzier, more marshmallowy, Mûre for sure (a scent I love and wear myself) but which can be a bit plodding, insistent and one-dimensional. Here, instead, as befits a perfume by Mr Duchaufour, there is always much more olfactorial detail going on; something zizzing, something pinging, then being narrowly pulled back into line so that the whole can then shine; like his work in the recent rhubarb-tastic Aedes De Venustas, which manages the astonishing feat of turning that tangy, delicious fruit into something regal, plush and austere, this perfume, with its popping, silver-eyed aldehydes bringing all the ingredients up up up, begins stark and fresh and attention-grabbing, yet then attenuates, well-measuredly, into something else; the rhubarb, over there in the Aedes becomes a stately vetiver-incense; here, the bubblicious, almost heady opening of the perfume calms down nicely into a sweet, gentle, and rather sexy, skin scent I am quite happy to carry about with me for the rest of the day, thankye very much. Whistling while I work.
Thanks for the sample bottle, Bethan!