The main problem with this brand is that I can’t remember their name.
Walking one afternoon pre-work past the unchanging little niche shop in Fujisawa which stores a modest range of fragrances by such houses as Studio Olfactive, Nobile 1942 and The Different Company, I noticed to my surprise the newly stocked bottles of a brand I was unfamiliar with.
I had cursory inhales of all, identified Georgette as perhaps the most interesting, but then realized that as I left the store, about to possibly do a quick review on here, that I had completely forgotten the name of the perfume house. It had 100% slipped my brain (though I did, to my credit, remember that I think it began with a V). This happened not once, but twice: the other day – the third time – trying the perfume again, I made sure to take notes as I left the building so as not to forget it.
What is this instant amnesia? Are we just too jaded from the millions of new houses that keep sprouting up like so many mushrooms that our brains simply can’t take any more names and concepts, or is there something inherent and particular about, wait was it it – = Vyrao – that doesn’t stick? In my favour, it’s not impossible that as I was passing by the shelves I simply couldn’t see the logo in its entirety, as it was only partially visible on the bottle and I was in a hurry. Or else I just have giant Swiss cheese holes in my brain.
At any rate, this peppered zinger of a warm and resinous tobacco rose – a very red – orange red – rose made a certain impression on me. It has something. It has a glow. A subtly commanding presence. I am not sure I would want to wear it myself, in the same way I was hovering over Le Feu D’Issey today, in the mood for something vibrant (they have a similar aura and it was almost right ); the spiked woodiness and patchouli guaiac freshly assertive while also warming, androgynous; intelligent, but possibly a little over-insistent. Cunning. There are undertones.
Finally having remembered (and memorized!) the name Vyrao, I looked them up this evening and discovered that they are a ‘wellness’ oriented new house focused on holistically rounded perfume formulae that are designed to make you feel better (are most perfumes designed to make you feel worse?) Red is a colour I love, as is coral orange: and sometimes a red scent – and this smells quite red, woodily peppered red – is just what you are in the mood for on a cold day. In terms of really feeling good though, I have to be honest and say that I personally simply couldn’t look at all those garishly coloured bottles for very long. Rather than wellness, this ghastly tonal palette, in my own peculiar case, would most likely lead to illness.
Still, no one is saying you have to buy the entire set – which in any case would turn out to be very expensive. One or two might look acceptable if you locate the best place in your collection for them. Plus, finding out that the majority of the collection was created by perfumer Lyn Harris, an unsentimental but intuitive creatrice of subtle and intricate scent I have long admired, I am tempted to go back and smell all of these again more thoroughly at the shop again next week. Witchy Woo (?!!!!), a patchouli incense, has a lot of polarized comments on Fragrantica which usually means there might be something worth smelling, it sounds quite strange: and as a bona fide green lover I will definitely be re-trying I Am Verdant – and Free 00 – a solar floral citrus, which sounds light and breezy perfect for the summer.
Have you tried any perfumes by this house? Vyrao? I wasn’t wowed: but I did sense a certain energy.
The Black Narcissus 
Hard to remember, yes I imagine so.
It strikes me as one of those names that are chosen – seemingly at random – because they mean nothing, and so have no emotional resonance.
After the debacle with a car named Nova – which means ‘doesn’t go’ in Spanish, the thinking heads that invent this stuff are wary of any signification at all, known or unknown.
Veolia is another, which only sticks in the mind because it’s on the side of every garbage truck in Paris.
You are right: there is no hook in the name that I know of – something just made up.
Funnily, I think I prefer ‘Veolia’.
This sounds like one I’d want to smell. I love red and coral orange, too. However, I’m the opposite from you in that I am drawn to the “garishly coloured bottles” all together, especially with the gradients on each one. Guessing the name is hard to remember because it isn’t really associated with anything familiar, although the word “virile” comes to mind as a potential mnemonic. Or “virus”? Ah, well. Can’t fit everything into the overcrowded brain.
Seriously, just reading your comment and looking at the words virus and virile the ACTUAL name disappeared from my brain again. Maybe I have Covid brain fog or something (possible actually) – or….anyway.
Re the bottles – I can see the appeal, especially in these photos, though in person they are darker and more thickly coloured – eyesores!
I will smell them again and report back. Might be worth trying. What ‘red’ scents do you like btw?
That’s a tricky one as I do get influenced by the bottle colors, although not always. Hugo Boss Deep Red, which I really liked when I wore it regularly, smelled pale yellow to me (in the best way). Maybe Penhaligon’s The Coveted Duchess Rose and FM Portrait of a Lady… rose scents that aren’t otherwise “pink.”
I would love to pass by you on the street or sit next to you in a cafe in any of these – I envy people that can pull off rose.
It hadn’t really occurred to me that anyone couldn’t!
I went on their website. First thing I read is:
„Vyrao is the world’s first wellbeing brand to fuse energetic healing with master perfumery. We make good feelings.“ Ah, goodness, yes I see!
I wonder what those master perfumers at Guerlain, Chanel & Hermès must be thinking? Oh dear, our sublime perfumes don‘t induce energetic healing? Perhaps just mere pleasure as L‘heure bleue, Bois des iles or, say, Eau de nérolis dorée are exceptional, but utterly lacking in energetic healing? Oh dear, best start completely anew!
Truth be told: I couldn‘t care less, and—perhaps—that may also be why you could not remember the name?
!!
Love your ‘no crap flies with me’ fortitude.
But you are right. Even if this brand genuinely does feature notes that have healing vibrations, besides all the aromatherapy products/perfumes out there which ONLY exist to provide ‘wellness’ – there were brands like Caudalie and Clarins doing precisely this in more ‘perfume-like’ commercial contraptions as well (did you like Eau Dynamisante? I always three quarters did, but there was also something off putting in there which made me never buy it).
To claim this is the first ever brand of this nature is, frankly, codswallop.
Unfortunately, not really. Deep down, I‘m on old label queen. If I were to chance upon, say a Violette Volynka by Hermès, I‘d most probably prance on it. But those Vyraos are completely unknown to me so I don‘t for a second attribute quality to them.In German there‘s a saying: „Was der Bauer nicht kennt, frißt er nicht“ (What the farmer doesn’t know, he won’t eat“), mind you with the vulgar word for eat = fressen.
I love that word
I haven’t encountered them, but is Lyn Harris one of the creators behind L’Air de Rien? I love that, it’s an odd one so I wear it rarely but I still have quarter of a bottle left. I find it grounding and comforting as well as quite weird – reminds me of horse stables and the scent of cooking fudge!
She is and that really is a weird one but I can understand the draw of its salt dirtiness
Scent, for me, is about hedonism, sensuality, indulgence. Which all feels good. This vyrao approach bypasses the best of it. Very wholesome and healthy. But I’d rather have an eclair than a granola bar.
Remember when Shiseido put out their Relaxing and Energizing fragrances, in green and orange bottles respectively? That was kind of cool, back in the day.
These actually remind me of that vibe- which was never mine
Mine became bathroom sprays.