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The soft, Joanna Lumley-esque Aunty of L'Instant Homme by Guerlain. Sumptuous, creamy, citric patchouli with mould (the same musty tone as the aforementioned Guerlain) and white chocolate (whereas the Guerlain is bitter cocoa). Update: Aldehydes! How did I never notice them before. Perhaps my perfume is aging although I'm pretty sure it smells the same as last year when I bought it. This is a very strange perfume, as it should be sweet and voluptuous, but there's a frosty sheen to it that makes it aloof and grandiose. Whereas often I perceive iris as orris, here it's the reverse, the orris having a twinge of powder I'd normally associate with the flower. I've always had a love hate relationship with Coromandel. Love the perfume, hate to wear it, or perhaps I should say I struggle to find any occasion or moment in my life where I would wear it. It feels like it should be worn by some crumbly aristocratic dame in a Hercule Poirot story (in fact, yes, specifically the Princess from Murder on the Orient Express).
Initially, Coromandel is nose-prickling, aldehydes, bright and sharp and sour, like a bitter citrus slice of moon on a night when winter is sparingly giving way to spring. It's also brimming with curious camphorous woods and strange subterranean echoes when the first spritz settles on your skin. Soon though, it is inexplicably a dark, floral sprinkle of black pepper atop a mug of palest milky cocoa, smooth and rich and creamy on the tongue, but tinged with that underlying musty bitterness. The strange interplay between those primordial notes and that velvety decadence offers dueling impressions of opulence and austerity; imagine enjoying a delectably elegant beverage…on the damp, cold floor of a mossy limestone cave.