Joop! Le Bain by Joop!

The softest and prettiest vanilla I’ve ever tried, completely different from the current ones that give me nausea. It’s super easy to wear, not overwhelming at all, and very comforting.

If you’re looking for a doll and freshly unpacked toy scent, there it is. It looks very clean; I remember the ‘Le Bain’ concept from the 80s and 90s, talcum-powdered and vanilla-scented. Some detect tobacco at the end, a hint of an opened packet, not smoke or annoying, but covered by the doll smell. It smells like Cabbage Patch Kids if a teenager hid their tobacco inside. Need to test longevity and sillage for autumn and winter.

Initially confused, but if you’re afraid of dying, don’t buy this. I opened the bottle an hour and a half ago: at first, a super-alcoholic cherry scent that seemed odd as it wasn’t listed in the notes. Within seconds, the alcohol faded, replaced by a doll-plastic smell, like being thrown back 30 years to Christmas Day in the Dominican Republic. I didn’t dislike that time travel, but it left me with a ‘yes, but…’ My nose isn’t at its best due to a flu that laid me low for a week, yet after just two sprays, I noticed immense potency. After an hour and a half, the plastic note faded and I felt that cherry-sweetened sweetness again, now with fresh, clean touches. It reminds me a lot of the base of Givenchy’s Pi, though very subtly. There are no lemons or bergamot on my skin, just a shy floral that makes it transition from day to night. At first, I thought of a morning blue sky; now, I see orange sunsets. It’s a rare perfume and I like it for that; it evolves tremendously. By two and a half hours, the plastic had vanished completely; a sweet, woody touch remains with a very blended jasmine. It’s no longer fresh, but clean, potent, and nocturnal, ideal for the cold. On my skin, it smells feminine, but I think it would look great on a man too. By three and a half hours, what is this? It smells of sweet, woody almonds, totally different from the start. I tested it on my 25-year-old son, and on him, it smells more masculine and synthetic, without that doll note. By eight hours, there’s no sillage left; it’s an intimate aroma that smells almost identical to Pi. I’m definitely fascinated by it; it’s a sensual bomb without being invasive.

RETURN TO CHILDHOOD 🛁🛁🛁🛁 Upon first trying it, I felt as if there was something of my childhood inside that bottle. It is a somewhat vintage scent, essentially vanilla, soapy, aldehydic, which can recall solar notes, over a slightly amber and sweetened base. Perhaps it is not to the current taste, and for that reason it is difficult to find in major perfumeries. Away from contemporary gourmand vanillas, this is a retro vanilla, with that plastic touch and a pinch of artificiality, but at the same time balanced, nothing strident, nothing out of place. Le Bain could be the enveloping hug after a bath with a layer of curl, and the scent that remains after talc, Gal vaseline, almond oil and other creams from the 80s, while biting the plastic dolls you have scattered in the bath, with that typical Mandarin Chinese flan aftertaste of the era. For me, it is a quiet perfume, one I like to enjoy to be at home or, on some days, simply as a transition perfume (because yes, some fragrance crazies use more than one perfume a day, according to the mood, you know…). I will get a spare bottle in case it is discontinued, so I can continue to feel that nostalgic hug, from time to time, of who I was and will never be again. Because sometimes, the past also fits in a bottle. 🍀

I will try not to cry in this review and not in the bad sense; Jane Birkin getting up early for a shoot on a slightly fresh, misty morning, but the temperature is ideal, she takes a shower and ABSOLUTELY EVERYTHING, from the shower gel to the hair conditioner, smells like a freshly showered French girl from the 70s, (I know her creation is later but this is what it smells like to me) continuous, she is beautiful but does not even realise it, she puts on slightly loose jeans and a worn-out old t-shirt, her hair ruffled, slightly messy and as a look, a little mascara and a blush she uses on both lips and cheeks, the streets are still empty, it seems only SHE is there, leaving in her wake that unique, eeeeeffortless allure, ja! PREMEDITATED. When you greet her she gives you two kisses and floods you with that scent, which is not in itself feminine, nor masculine, not adult, has something childish, but FIERCE, it lasts and insists, when she moves away that haze of Le Bain remains with you, ‘who is this creature’? It has the grace of femininity, the strength of masculine energy and the purity of an infant, but is eternal like an immortal fairy. After so much mental imagery I must say I bought it along with a purchase of Roses Vanille by Mancera, I put it there because I had it for years, and years, knowing it was for me. Here it is with me at 4pm in Málaga, Andalucía, applied since midnight the previous day, and I have no words, my boyfriend can smell it from the kitchen, I am looking at what other creations his author has, this must be Avalon alchemy, I will not tell you to buy it blindly, you must be an ethereal being to wear this, your image must be something born of a whim of nature, something different, beautiful in its own way, is it unisex? it is for people who are little human, regardless of genitals. Times are not prepared for this VINTAGE that truly takes you to another era and not because it is stale or overly floral, but because there is no longer cosmetics with that characteristic soapy scent. Scent 9/10 Longevity 10/10 Sillage 10/10 Value for money 10/10 Versatility 7/10 Packaging 10/10 Would I buy it again?: FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE. R.I.P Jane Birkin, eternal role model since my tender childhood, this scent reminded me so much of what she conveyed that I see her wherever Le Bain passes. P.S.: Do not buy it blindly, check all the negative comments, it is like the most beautiful person in the world moving to a town of 80 inhabitants, ok? if you do not mind shining with your own light GO.

Looking at international reviews calmed me down; others perceived what I did: cherry. A striking opening that settles down, fortunately. Or perhaps you just get used to it. It leaves a synthetic vanilla aroma with cherry and amber. Like ‘scented’ rubber or plastic, as some compare it to Gaultier 2, though not quite the same. That’s how I perceive it. If overapplied, it becomes invasive and not exactly pleasant; I advise moderation. It has very good longevity.

I was gifted this perfume today. I didn’t know it, but it left me a bit confused. It’s sweet, I can’t identify its notes, but what I can say is that it reminds me of a doll’s scent. Yes, it smells like dolls. Like Nancy, like Barbie, like a doll. I can’t say I love it, nor do I dislike it; I just know it confuses me and I’ve never had anything like it. Of course, it’s a different perfume; I don’t know if I’ll keep it, sell it, or gift it, because as it has me confused, I’m not sure. What else can I say? I don’t know. That it’s different, feminine, tender, and at the same time mega long-lasting. I’ve only sprayed it twice in the last seven hours and it seems I put it on ten minutes ago. It’s a wonder in terms of longevity. Not much more to add. Well, yes, it’s a proper beast.

I’ve given it several chances in different climates and I don’t understand why anyone likes it. To sum up, it smells like the rubber on new dolls. It brings back memories of when, as a child, I’d open the box and take out the doll; it’s spot on. I bought a 50ml bottle and frankly, I don’t know what to do with it. If anyone is interested, although it’s sold cheap, it’s practically new and it hurts to have it just as decoration.

Joop Le Bain was a monumental beast, brutal and wonderful. It was my first encounter with gourmand scents; I bought it in October 1991 in Düsseldorf for my mother. The sales assistant recommended ‘an authentically German perfume’ and handed me Joop Le Bain to smell. What Bain? It was a mixture of woods, resins, and vanilla at kiloton levels. A dense, genuine, and ominous vanilla. Modern gourmand vanillas are compared to sugar puppies against that vanilla. Fenrir would be traumatised by that hairy beast. My mother, accustomed to classic amber or aldehydic scents, put it away in a drawer, but years later we rescued it and wore it in turns. Too good not to use. But it died out like the Tasmanian devils. Coty tried to clone it, but now it is closer to Dolly the sheep than the ferocious wolf. The reformulation does not displease me; the sheep scratches the ground with arrogance but does not overwhelm. The vintage overwhelmed, invaded and besieged, thick and almost sticky, like cedar resin with vanilla and amber emulsified. It was felt from the first atomisation: the wolf pounced and then curled up, but looked at you with blazing eyes for hours. The reformulation is opposite: it appears candid with orange blossom and citrus, but builds in crescendo and lasts all day. In the vintage, the top and heart notes were pure omission to my nose. I never noticed the aldehydes and in this version practically nothing. Now the citrus remains from start to finish, solid with amber and tonka bean that almost recall benzoin. There is more floral presence, lily of the valley dominates (I do not notice jasmine or roses). The distinctive feature: is there vanilla? Yes, interwoven with a synthetic musk, but the sweetness is pleasant and I appreciate the longevity of the citrus air. It is not what it was, but I am glad to have it. Of the current ones that remind me of the vintage: Organza Indecence, État de Grace from Les Signes de Gres and Adam Levine for Women.

The opening is very boozy. Then it smells of typical vanilla bath gels. As it dries, there’s a light touch of gingerbread and rose, powdery. It’s sweet without being gourmand, yet not easy to wear.

I’ve just discovered it and it went straight to my favourites. A gem: sweet without being gourmand, vanillaised and fresh, giving a sense of cleanliness without being soapy, smelling of elegance. Excellent price. Longevity and sillage that many would wish for. Totally in love.

It’s a very tender fragrance. To me, it smells of baby powder.

The story of JOOP! is a ‘déjà vu’ of what happened to other brands: it didn’t succumb with its creator, changed hands until it fell into a multinational that retains something of the original essence. Yves Saint Laurent is the paradigm of destroying a prestigious brand and a symbol of the 70s and 80s. Blame L’Oreal, as Rita Hayworth sang. Others, like Dior, Guerlain, or Cacharel, retain prestige, though nothing comparable to their beginnings. JOOP! is German, from Hamburg, 1986, by Wolfgang Joop. Between 1998 and 2001 the founder sold the company, and now it’s owned by Coty. Its first perfume was JOOP! Femme, an indolic aldehydic ‘don’t mess with me’. Thanks to my friend Rebecavpf, I know this JOOP! Le Bain, an oriental unisex launched in 1989. Although it advertised aldehydes, I don’t notice them; the opening is sharp, not due to aldehydes but from citrus bolstered by white musk and hedione, with a penetrating sweet jasmine and no indolic quality (unlike in JOOP! Femme). This initial accord is risky, teetering between natural and artificial, on that tightrope walk of falling into insecticide or entering friendliness. JOOP! Le Bain doesn’t evolve; that initial accord persists, sweetened by amber and synthetic-stellar vanilla, with high performance, typical of JOOP!. The brand doesn’t stand out for discretion; its fragrances play in the laboratory league, lacquers, and direct artifices. They are love-hate. For me, the paradigm is JOOP! Homme: I hate it as much as I love it; it’s cloying but I adore it, an addiction I always relapse into. JOOP! Homme expresses my complexity and self-sincerity. I’ll keep using it even though I cordially detest it. Something similar happens with JOOP! Le Bain: it’s so simple, flash-in-the-pan, beach-bar chic that you can love or hate it, but it’s hard to be indifferent.

It’s a delight, smells clean. Although it’s not very long-lasting, I highly recommend it for day and night; you just need to reapply often.