On the opening, it's the most glacial, frosty, devastatingly beautiful flower, frozen in time and space, appearing from a sort of rooty, carroty, almost soily broth, before the tiniest soupçon of incense swirls in, making it slightly warmer, although no less sinister. I've never smelled anything like this before, and it usurps Iris de Fath as the best roots-and-all, natural, witchy iris masterpiece I've come across. Many people below mention sadness. This isn't sad to me, it's a laughing imp, yes with a wicked demeanour, but with a twinkle in the eye. There is an almost chocolatey, enveloping cloak that comes from very rich, realistic orris (see Melt My Heart), and makes this a very cosy scent to me. I guess it's like Cruella's most exquisite stole, which provides her with luxuriant comfort but may appal those who behold it. Don't listen to those who say it's unwearable. Wear it and go about your day. You'll be rewarded! Update: it's brutal in even slightly warm, humid conditions. Still the greatest iris though.

To my nose this smells like an 80s men's fragrance. As it dries down it has a sort of cigarette-infused car interior vibe. I can imagine an estate agent from Swindon smelling like this in the early 90s. It does smell like it has vetiver in it, but it doesn't smell anything like Encre Noir. I get nothing remotely oudy from this at all.

Something in this perfume smells "turned" to me. But not the smell of old perfume that's turned, rather something else, I can't quite put my finger on it, but it's nauseating. Chypre Mousse has the same effect.

95% popcorn, 5% tiny traces of the other notes.

Very strange, very interesting, not for me. All of John Biebel's perfumer's are masterpieces, in my opinion, and I'm grateful to experience all of them. This is a compelling scent, but I can't really imagine wearing it out and about (although I've said that before about perfumes that ended up being favourites so who knows). This is totally unique and has a lovely balance of lilac and turmeric. Unique spicy!

I don't get the hate for this one. Sure, Nagel isn't Ellena, and her creations go in a very different direction to his, and I struggle with many of her perfumes elsewhere, but this is a lovely perfume. It opens like eating a crumbly lemon shortbread on a sunny day by an olive grove. It really is evocative of the island it's named after. As it dries down, a sunny vetiver comes through and remains, but unlike, say, the vetiver of the best-forgotten Terre d'Hermès Eau Givrée, this never becomes pickley. It's a truly joyous summertime gem, it's completely unique, and it doesn't amp up the pistachio and become a gourmand snooze fest to join the current proliferation of sweet pistachio dreck. It's a love for me, especially on a day like today when the sun is fully out in early May heralding better weather (finally!).

Great scent, criminally bad performance. Plus, for all the prestige and ridiculous prices of this brand, this isn't offering anything new, nor is it serving me the dazzling beauty and wonder of similarly priced oud fragrances. There are so many things I'd go for over this due to the poor performance and lack of originality. For me this brand is just way too cunty and elite, and while they do have some good perfumes, they seem to have been perfected into oblivion. There's no charm, no edge, nothing to make me come back. And it's not just the price, I mean I have bought perfumes in the same price range but to me the Roja Dove ones are worth a quarter of what they're asking for at most. Update: dries down to a very synthetic-smelling woody amber base.

À very polite, unremarkable but well-accomplished floral with no sweetness whatsoever. It has the DNA of L'Atessa, by the same perfumer, with a greener floral element.

This smells like you put Grand Bal through a Guerlain filter. It has the extremely sweet vanilla found in the Art et Matière florals. It's very lovely, I'm glad to have a little 7.5ml.