I couldn’t help buying Furze. Although it blurs and looms, and birfurcates vanillically, greenly, almost repellently, when you smell it up close in a bizarre and plurid, fuzzy-bloomed pollen face of naturalcy – and you move your nose immediately back, instinctively (this is rich, potent, parfum-strength natural perfumery chock full of absolutes and essences) – once that scent has oiled the end of your nose or graced your fingertips, you start, if you are anything at all like me, to acquiesce.



Dripped on a blotter, and left on a dresser, you soon find yourself wondering whether that gorgeous mimosa, almond-vanilla smell is coming from, with its woozy rural shimmering edge of neroli, green leaf, and coconut; a curious melange whose wearability I can’t yet fully vouch for, but which reminds me in some strange and pleasant way of Caron Farnésiana.









I am also drawn to the inspiration for this scent, which is explained quite fully and amusingly in the Gorilla Perfumes’ (‘it’s all about perfume’) comic, available from Lush stores. Vikings; gorse beer; the benevolent British summer garden outdoors : Furze is certainly rather unique.




Discussing this perfume in person with the Candy Perfume Boy, he told me quite intriguingly that this is what his house smells of. Put some of those popular, wafting wooden aroma sticks in some Furze and I can certainly imagine it; a drifty, sweet, daydreamingly dandelion-head in a fluff-soaked, afternoon summer, that just catches in the air, as if you were half snoozing, contentedly, in lazy, sun-beam- touched haystack…



I might as yet go down this route with my Furze, use it as a room smell, though I am still tempted, when the time is right, to actually wear it. There will be no dabbing, however, because the inherent problem with this perfume, as I said, is its overwhelming strength. The mimosa absolute, bloated in its circumference with its bakewell vanilla, green notes and that frothing edge of coconut, would be terrible overapplied and worst of all, rubbed. It would best handled instead, I think, with a deft dab on the edge of the freshly washed wrist with a soft, brand new cottonbud.






Filed under Flowers

10 responses to “BLOATED MIMOSA: : : : FURZE by GORILLA PERFUMES (2012)

  1. Katy

    Luckily, my magical fragrance sucking skin super powers allow me to wear these challenging Gorilla perfumes without people in surrounding counties catching a whiff. I love Breath of God, which goes the nice incense/bbq route for me instead of the mango from hell route. I did not try Furze yet, I am eager to do so! My favorite mimosa fragrance is YSL Cinema, fabulous for springtime and terribly named, since it is not cinematic but rather restrained and elegant. I am fascinated by the smothering jasmine of Sikkim Girls, the trick might be a very light application. I like to squirt fragrances generously, I hate to be disciplined about this!

  2. Sounds ever so intriguing. I will have to find a Lush boutique in Boston and see if they carry the range.

    • It’s quite nice, actually, all natural, and inexpensive. I am trying it as a room fragrance this weekend (just leaving the bottle in a corner with the top off) and I think it would be ideal in a really dreamy breezy room with the windows open. I also wore some on my hand yesterday and it is quite wearable in a sweet, mimosa fuzzy kind of way. I’d love to know what you think of it.

  3. Boveney

    Oh, room scents. I don’t understand how those work at all but think I have to figure it out as our Tokyo flat is hermetically sealed. Impossible to open the windows up here on the 27th floor and everything seems a bit musty. Shanghai Tang stores all smell of ginger flower which is zingy and sweet that’s what I’d like to achieve. Will go sniff out this Furze – which is actually gorse, the yellow prickly stuff Winnie the Pooh falls into and that bees love. I tend to get hung up on the names and for that reason would never have responded to the YSL Cinema Katy mentions above. My fragrance education starts here…..

    • I know the kind of apartments you mean, and don’t think that something as rich and loomingly mimosa would work in a place with shut windows (it would need the compliment of breeze). A good pot pourri like the one by Santa Maria Novella would work better in that context.

      As for names, although I think it is a shame to get too snobbish about names, I must admit that I too get very hung up on them as well, hence my savage attack on ‘Extatic’ the other day: I hated it before I even smelled it.

      Furze is most definitely a curious name, as are all the scents in the Gorilla range. Lord Of Goathorn (a FOULLLLLLL!!!!) perfume!: Flower’s Barrow, The Bug, and so on. They are extremely original but pungent and unfathomable. Definitely worth checking out, though. I know you sneeze with perfumes, but a little bit of Furze on some tissue on your person, or just on your wrist, could create quite an intriguing and beautiful aura. Where is your nearest Lush store? There is one by Shinjuku station that stocks many of their scents. That is where I bought my Ladyboy (violet, banana, and seaweed )

  4. Boveney

    Passed Lush in Yurakacho today and ducked in for the Furze. The saleslady splashed quite a bit of it on her wrists for me to smell which made no sense at all ( granted, I am not up on scent etiquette). The shop was reeking with all the competing smells of the soap. So she splashed some on my wrists which almost made me reel back, the smell was so overpowering. But by the time I’d reached Loft on the next corner, the fragrance had vanished. I was left sniffing furiously at my wrist trying to catch a whiff. What does that mean? Do I have scent repelling skin?

  5. Now look, Mr Ginza, you’ve posted a couple of times at least about Gorilla, so you’re to blame.

    Being a perfume ignoramus, I don’t know where to find the other stuff you talk about, but I’m curious, respect your judgment (in this matter 😉 and do at least know where to find Lush in Cambridge. I’ve always avoided them cos the wall of sherbert-y perfume that generally emanates from their shops sets my face tingling. But this review and the previous Ladyboy one drove me in there today.

    Unfortunately I ended up dabbing my wrists with Devil’s Nightcap. Possibly the name should have put me off. First impression: plant waste that has been sitting in plastic bucket for a half year before the water is poured off. It might be very petit bourgeois of me, but I do feel that’s a really bad start for a perfume. It does get a little better: for last three hours or so my wrists have been broadcasting something vaguely tobacco-ish, and it’s attracting and repelling me in equal measure. Of course none of the notes, ingredients, or reviews mention tobacco, but what do they know?

    Thanks for expanding my range of experiences!

    • George

      I totally agree that it seems very strange that the sweet pink stench of Lush stores should house the most fearless guerrillas of modern perfumery, and also that some of them, while original and striking, are just F O U L. I think Devils’s Nightcap
      is an absolute shocker but love it and am laughing reading this thinking about you living through its various stages ( not that I know them: I could never put myself through it ) . I think
      Lord Goat or whatever it is called is even worse, as is The Bug, but
      I love them for their existence. Next time for a laugh try
      Ladyboy ( bananas. seaweed and violets), and Lust, which is a ludicrously erotic jasmine. Sikkim Girls is a nice spicy floral number as well.

      I await your reports!

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