Let’s talk Fig. I only recently discovered Fig, which is frankly a scandal nine months into a perfume blog, but I have never claimed to know it all.
The portal through which I entered the World of Fig was Hermes Un Jardin En Mediterranee. It knocked me out. It was marvellous. I was as desperate as Eve to find more Fig stuff. Obligingly, my dear colleague Lisa Wordbird, presented me with her bottle of L’Artisan Parfumeur Premier Figuier to see what I thought.
One thing’s for sure. Having spent a few days alone with this, I can now Fig spot from ten feet away.
To me, Fig is rich and creamy with heavy green notes around the edges. The fruitiness is like smelling the dried fruit of a Christmas cake before you add it to the mix. Fig equals Sultanas, Milk and green leafery. However there is one caveat that stops me fully embracing the figginess of Premier Figuier. There is to my nose, an animalic or musky note that vividly reminds me of a scene in my life many years ago. No names, no pack drill. Gather round for a fireside story with ole IScentYouADay.
Many moons ago I knew someone who had sterling family ancestry, pots of money and was quite the aristocrat. However, he had the most appalling personal hygiene. So shocking was it, that the entire abode in which he lived smelled to High Heaven. Clothes, furniture and air carried the unwashed stench around from room to room and even onto the street when the door was open. This man, who was terribly nice, and is massively unlikely to be reading this (I hope), had a girlfriend who doused herself in Guerlain Samsara. You may notice I have never reviewed Samsara.
The end result is that despite Samsara having no fig, Premier Figuier reminds me of that brief window in time when my nose was trying to divide the musk of stale BO from the Green, fruity rich Samsara.
This is in no way the fault of this lovely Fig perfume, since Premier Figuier is beautifully put together. There are many non fig notes listed: Asfoetida, Fruity notes, Fig leaf, and Sandalwood.
But all I can smell is Fig and Musk, and that rather fetid London Spring of 94.