Byblos by Byblos

What can I say about Byblos? I’m utterly fascinated by it; it’s super fresh and perfect for daytime wear. Fortunately, you can still get hold of it.

What a pity, as I was planning to buy it without knowing it, based on the reviews and because I’m a fan of Ermenidis. Someone mentioned it smelled like hairspray, and it seemed true at an unbearable intensity. I only detected that oppressive scent and got rid of it. It was disappointing because I was so eager for it; perhaps it’s a lovely perfume, but it just didn’t work for me.

A mysterious beauty with an oriental air that stands the test of time with dignity. It has an unusual sweetness, like a teaspoon of sugar after a bitter, herbal sip. You wouldn’t expect such boldness and delicacy from that discreet blue bottle. It needs time, although the top notes are wonderful; it’s too complex to judge quickly. The fruit’s youthfulness is surprising, initially smelling of fresh quince boxes. Then the flowers arrive, a varied bouquet that prolongs the sweetness with less sunny notes. Finally, the pepper that was always there, enveloped by everything, waits for its moment. It’s eclectic and sensual, though certainly not everyone will like it.

What memories, I adored it; it was very fruity, summery, sweet, and long-lasting. Suddenly, I couldn’t find it anymore. What a pity.

Byblos has always seemed exuberant, explosive, radiating vitality, freedom and adventure. Its small, pretty bottle is as charismatic as the fragrance it releases, reminding me of the adventures of Ali Baba and Aladdin and those adventure films from ‘One Thousand and One Nights’. Yes, critics say it is essentially Mediterranean, but I believe it is an ode to unleashed, passionate love, like a magic lamp inviting you to fulfil your dreams. It leaves a sweet, earthy trail, sometimes heavy, but never to the point of weariness. Every time I open it, it invites me to sail across seas and deserts with some hero determined to conquer glory, and me, of course! It is sublime and scarce; with a single drop, I feel I have taken over the world. It is no surprise that its creator, Ilias Ermenidis, is the same man who made Soir de Rente, another perfume I adore and which cannot be missing from my collection.

In the nineties, there was a trend for floral/fruity women’s fragrances; most were similar, cloying peaches, woody and luxurious, or fun, youthful versions. Then there was Byblos, with its own personality. It was floral/fruity and sweet, yet possessed something that made you think of a refreshing breeze, musky and velvety. Some perfumes create synesthesia, where the exterior hints at the interior. When the brand was still something, Byblos was a fine example: it made you think of Mediterranean Europe, that clash of cultures between Greece, Turkey and Cyprus, that Europe of legends and mythology. I don’t remember it as well as I’d like, but I know that beneath that mass of flowers and fruits lay a hint of roughness without being sour, like the inner courtyard of a Greek palace in Byzantine blue tones, a damp, aged water where less cloying flowers and fruits floated. A blend of floral and fruity sweetness with a slightly astringent, talc-like tone, thanks to the violet, iris, musk, vetiver, pineapple and cassia. It wasn’t a bad fragrance.

Cult classic, I adore it: captivating and refined, it lasts long without being overpowering. It’s unique, smelling like nothing else. Not for everyone—I tried it on friends and they didn’t like it, but I swear it’s a wonder.

The citrus opening is so intense it almost makes you drool…