Finally! After all my searching I have come across a Zoologist fragrance I really enjoy. I’ve spent a long time feeling as though this house wasn’t for me, constantly being disappointed by the hyped up releases - but why isn’t this being talked about more? I suppose because it’s a rather old fashioned, classical smelling scent. A gorgeously deep crimson rose is the star here, it doesn’t go as far as jammy but it’s dense and unashamed to make itself overtly known. Combined with the sweet juiciness of plum blossom and salty ambergris, this is then tempered by the delicate powdery facets of violet, and the creamy touch of oakmoss in the base. It’s gorgeous, I really wasn’t going into this expecting to enjoy it so much. I’m usually quite picky about my rose fragrances so for me to give this such high praise really says a lot, especially from a house that I typically don’t like. I will definitely consider picking this up at some point.
Too heavy-handed. And it's a scent profile which already has a glittering panoply of iterations, so this one doesn't even come close to sparking interest for me. The quality puts me in mind of ELDO (not the first time I've found this with Zoologist), as in very synthetic smelling, strong, unsubtle chemicals.
Nightingale from Zoologist is, on paper, something I initially wouldn’t have thought my cup of tea--but that just goes to show what I know. This is an opulent mossy plum blossom with bitter, earthy oud, and hints of a sour, lemony geranium–like rose. It’s being referred to as a pink floral chypre which, probably because of my associations with all things pink, rings frilly and frivolous for what turns out to be a breathtakingly stunning fragrance with an unexpected complexity that translates into something profoundly emotional. In reading an interview with the perfumer, I learned that the inspiration for this perfume was an ancient poem written by Fujiwara no Kenshi, sister to the empress at that time. The empress was apparently trading her imperial duties for Buddhist vows, and upon her departure, her sister gifted her an agarwood rosary wrapped in a box with ribbons and a branch of plum blossom and read to her a poem she had written: “Soon you will be wearing a black robe and enter nunhood. You will not know each rosary bead has my tears on it.” I truly do get a sense of love, loss, sisterhood, and yearning, and somehow, through that perspective, I even experience an existential sadness regarding the transient nature of time and existence. What a beautiful and evocative fragrance