Eau d'Ivoire by Balmain: fragrance review

One often sees young girls looking for a perfume for everyday -clean, that will be well liked by their entourage, that will make them feel feminine, and in full possession of the coolness of their youth. They're offered a pile of branded products in big department stores, and one tends to feel a little bit sorry for the embarrassment; too much choice, but too little distinction. Yet small gems await in the wings. Eau d'Ivoire is a cooler and more modern style variant of the re-launched Ivoire by Pierre Balmain (which gave us legendary fragrances like Vent Vert, Miss Balmain and Jolie Madame) a year later, in 2013. 

 

The relaunched contemporary Ivoire by Balmain is also beautiful, with an aldehyde arrangement of cleanliness and soap, less retro-"mommy" compared to perfumer Francis Camail's 1979 original Ivoire (for some funny reason, the perfumer's name always reminds me of Camay soap ...). 

In Eau d'Ivoire we're dealing with a bright, shiny, dominant magnolia that comes to the fore like a young girl at an event, who radiates natural beauty: fresh flawless skin,  sculpted features, loose lush hair, light-footed dance moves, a gaze with no hidden. You look at her and your mood lifts. 

The fragrance of Eau d'Ivoire has that deliriously attractive acidic feeling that men like so much, the freshness of initial spraying that is combined with the feeling of sophisticated musky skin-like haze underneath, which, although it speaks of cleanliness, does not scratch the nose with the sweetish acrid smell of fabric softener. The aldehydidic profile is weakened compared to the original Ivoire, but it is accompanying in a primo secondo fashion. A hint of soap, of the bath ritual, a feeling of well-being and softness remains on the skin when it dries, with a soupcon of clean fractalized patchouli. 

Eau d'Ivoire lasts a rather long time especially on fabric, but noses almost "destroyed" by a diet too indulgent in synthetic vanilla, patchouli and harsh oudh accords might find it undetectable. Solution? After a bout of gluttony, it takes a little fasting to re-evaluate the subtler nuances of good cooking. A break of sweet and acrid powdery smells will convince you of the truth of my claim. 

Parting shot: Eau d'Ivoire reminds me of the also optimistic beautiful Joie Eclat by Valeur Absolue.