Coriandre by Jean Couturier

Coriandre is gorgeous; I have a bottle from a friend and it reminds me greatly of the classic Miss Dior, so for me, it’s a total success. I adore that perfect balance between the fresh, spicy opening of coriander and the aldehydes, with a powdery heart of iris and violet over a very well-rounded moss. A perfect equilibrium.

The sandalwood confuses me; although it has good properties, the scent does not quite please me. It seems too sweaty and animal, nothing attractive, although chemically it is similar to hormones. They say it makes hair grow, but I do not test it at home, as I know nothing about aromatherapy and could get a lovely rash. Besides, it is a waste of money spending on essential oil if you are not going to see a bad patch of hair. For crazy experiments, TikTok is enough. But if you mix it with rose oil (my favourite is gallic) in a fatty base, it changes everything. You get a delicate attar that puts you between relaxation and erotic rapture, balancing male and female. In Coriandre there is something very similar to that rose and sandalwood attar, without grease, with an aldehydic opening that becomes powdery, with an animal and woody touch, and a halo of coriander spices. Coriander and sandalwood season a rose that mixes with a geranium that almost covers it, because geranium sometimes smells more like rose than the rose itself. This triad is the best, although I cannot help but mention how beautiful everything smells together: clean bergamot, angelica that soothes the aldehydes, fine iris and violet, and a complete base where nothing is superfluous, all guided by the sandalwood. A silky musk closes a brief but precious olfactory story, very Indian. It could be my favourite if it were not for the fact that it lasts nothing. The trail is almost non-existent; to last more than two hours you must spray a lot and even then it does not stick to clothes. If you reapply every couple of hours it is noticeable, but the bottle is a brick and carrying it in your bag gives you scoliosis for free. I agree that they surely reformulated it and took away the strength, as happened with Eau de Lancaster, to please fastidious noses. Lancaster had its lavender and basil removed, but Coriandre barely survived, as it still has charm and charisma, it just lacks intensity and longevity. But for being able to immerse yourself, however briefly, in its sensuality, it is worth it.

It has a unique and particular scent; rather than a perfume, I consider it an excellent cologne. Everything blends to create a new fragrance. It is timeless, fresh to the point of being chilly, with spicy, woody notes and a soft floral touch. I loved it. I would wear it at any time of day or night.

Smells magnificent and is very well described in previous reviews, so I’ll just add that I’m sure they reformulated it because the trail is minimal. What a pity, as it is a chypre that gives you energy just by smelling it.

Coriandre is for the delicate aroma of the rose, which here feels powdery. It is subtle and the musk gives it an enveloping cloud, beautiful like the petals of Otto rose, but that is only the surface. Beneath that lie other details: the aldehydes and coriander give it personality and character, making it very attractive to the nose. The woods, such as patchouli, add a masculine and earthy touch, reaching the roots of the plant, but not aggressive, rather soft and sensual, as if it were stripping naked in a sexy way. It has a retro touch when dry that makes it very attractive and refined, like an improved version of L’Ombre dans L’Eau by Diptyque. Rating: 7.

Coriandre is fresh, woody, musky, green, and powdery. Although it smells of spices as its name suggests, to me not so much of coriander, but of patchouli and geranium. An intense yet very fresh geranium, and as a contrast, a slight touch of dry, old, classic, and elegant red rose, very ‘couturier’. It has that dry, earthy, and rough freshness of classy vintage chypres, which reminds me a lot of Miss Dior or Balmain by Balmain. I’m sure that is why many call it ‘masculine’ today. I see on Fragrantica that people wear it by day, but I believe that despite its freshness it is more sensual and mysterious, more for night. This freshness does not invite movement, but rather exploring dark, intimate, or nightlife territories. Not in vain, the 70s ads said it had ‘all the aromas of dusk and already the freshness of night’. Although so fresh, it has a strange warmth and an intense woody tone, like a hug on the wet porch of a forest house, under a night breeze that brings the scent of moss, wet earth, and rain-soaked red geraniums. Revitalising and nostalgic.