Scented Snippets New Fragrance Review: DSH Perfumes Fleuriste / It's All Too Beautiful

by: Ida Meister

Welcome to my world, my dears ;-)

Synaesthesia is a great deal more prevalent than many would have us think—I'm fairly certain of it.

Sniffing yesterday with wonderful friends whom I too rarely see: “Smell this! It smells blue,” says one. Associating odor with prose, verse, melody, color, imagery. Perhaps the reality is that we may not be aware of it.

I am an immense carnation fan, but I'm not indiscriminate; I'm not a fan of the tame, attenuated, soapy, or watered-down. Give me spicy, smoky, fiercely lurid carnations. Decadent, despondent carnations. Rosy-fingers-of-the-dawn carnations. Freshly-cut, photorealistic flowers.

Dawn Spencer Hurwitz summons those spirited blooms in the florist's window with her latest floral oeuvre, appropriately named Fleuriste—which I purchased unsniffed, in both eau de parfum and organic shea butter body cream.

Her desire was to capture the fullness of experience:

“Fresh and cool, dewy and spicy; Fleuriste is a scent of green rose leaves and chilled carnations straight from the florist’s fridge. A lovely spray of Spring flowers and cuttings from the florist’s workshop color the background effect of Fleuriste adding fullness and warmth to the drydown as it wears.”—DSH Perfumes

Sometimes, teasing out notes can be a bit tricky.

Notes: bergamot, carnation absolute, leafy green accord, grandiflorum jasmine, ambergris

[There may be spice notes as well, among other materials]

I'm loving Fleuriste, because it's classically spicy yet fresh; I'm sensing an homage to the brilliant discontinued Floris Malmaison [beloved of Oscar Wilde!] which is the touchpoint for a horde of carnation admirers. An abundance of topnotch components is readily apparent to the greedy, grateful nose—an invitation to the journey which follows, since Fleuriste will lead me down the garden path and I'll follow willingly.

[I'm glad that I purchased the body cream because it anchors the scent while underpinning it with a luxuriously velvety texture. Pure unadulterated hedonism.]

I search for my flacon of vintage Caron Bellodgia extrait for reference: a very different experience altogether.

Bellodgia is the darker sister: denser, moodier, deeply rosier, mossier. She is the wintry Persephone to Fleuriste's child of nature, heedlessly picking flowers in the meadow. If I hadn't smelled them side by side, that might have gone unnoticed. It helps me appreciate how expansive Fleuriste is, with its sheerer, greener open quality which retains the lovely clove-y spiciness I relish in carnation fragrances.

At the time Dawn released this, Fleuriste was intended as a new vernal perfume, particularly timely as American Mother's Day observance followed on its heels. I have no argument with that. I feel, though, that it is a 'seasonless' perfume, one which is suitable for men and women whenever they feel its gravitational pull. It is neither too rich/heavy/spicy for warmer climes, nor is it a lightweight to be spritzed with wanton abandon [it would have to be an eau de toilette for that].

Fleuriste stands firmly in its own category: it needn't compete with the great classics of yore, but there are certainly echoes of them in its wake. With its gentle, breezy nature, Fleuriste is a welcome addition to my ever-burgeoning family of carnation fragrances. It is generous yet gentle, airy but substantive. In short, it reminds me of its perfumer [who feels like, and is a member of our family, in the larger sense]. A spicy, sensitive soulful intelligence.

The first breath you take in the florist's shop will confirm that. <3

Florist Fridge Image: Walk-In Cooler Central Market.