Jicky Eau de Parfum 
Guerlain (1889)

That scandalous, indolic, SKATOLIC civet note married with the fizzy cream soda and warm lavender makes Jicky EDP such a hypnotic, addictive fragrance. If loving this is wrong, I don't want to be right. It's right up there with Guerlain's Mouchoir de Monsieur, Eau d'Hermes, Houbigant Cologne Intense, Bal de Versailles, treading a fine line between clean, refined and skanky, depraved. I LIVE for fragrances like this.

Sure, it is furthest from modern that a fragrance can get, but Hell if I care about modernity. Modernity has also brought reality TV and fast fashion.

Jicky is definitely an acquired taste, but addictive. I blind bought the modern EdP because of Turin's review and the history of the scent. Initially, I hated it. The first spray was a scrubber. But, like a lot of the Guerlain scents, it takes time settle and open up. Jicky is complex: dirty, fecal, baby vomit, dirty diapers, post-coital bedsheets, and somewhat 'barbershop'.... But after the initial spray, it settles into something magical. It has a lot in common with Shalimar, but I find it to be easier, less sweet, more casual and definitely unisex, though I think Shalimar could be unisex, too. It has become the scent that I reach for most often (and I am a perfume addict with a ridiculous number of scents in my collection...) It works with jeans and with an evening gown or a tuxedo. I understand that it was the choice of Jackie Onassis, Bridgette Bardot, Sean Connery, and Collette - four very, very different personalities.

For me, Jicky is a big 'love', but it is not for everyone, and not a safe blind buy. But it is also not a scent to spray once and reject. There is a good reason why it has been in production since 1889.

(later) I snagged a small bottle of vintage extract - Oh. My. God. This is Divine. Still very herbal and earthy, but somehow the harsh edges of my modern edp are smoothed out in the vintage parfum, bringing the lovely dry down to the front much sooner. Certainly, this is not going to be everyone's cup of tea. But if it works for you, it is marvelous.

TLDR: Very Good (3.75/5). History in a bottle. If it works with you body chemistry, it is simply grand. SAMPLE FIRST!

As so many of the comments here attest, this grand old classic doesn't work for everyone. The civet, which must be synthetic in the current, post-IFRA formulation, is too animalic for some folks to find it tolerable and for others, the interplay with their personal scents or body chemistry causes this fragrance to go unpleasantly fecal.

For me, it does neither. It is just a shimmery olfactory portal to Belle Epoque Paris. It is not entirely clean smelling, to be sure, but it is magical. I don't imagine Belle Epoque Paris smelled entirely clean either. Indeed, current day Paris doesn't smell altogether clean.

The citrus opening here is lovely as is the spicy, slightly powdery (from the orris) mid note. As things move toward the base, the patchouli and vetiver bridge the scent into the animalic leathery incense and vanillic Guerlinade notes that feature in this and so many of the house's fragrances that followed Jicky.

I think it is quite a commentary on the quality on display here that this fragrance has been in continuous production for more than a century and a quarter. I cannot conceive of this fragrance having originally been marketed as feminine. To my nose, it is perfectly unisex if not somewhat masculine. Projection is moderate and longevity is impressive on my fragrance consuming skin.

I do not find this fragrance to be an old lady smell. But I do imagine that a fair number of folks will simply not want to smell like Jicky. For this reason, as well as the aforementioned fact that this scent doesn't work with everyone's scent and/or chemistry, you really do need to sample this fragrance before buying.

For my part, I enjoy Jicky for its historical significance and for how well it performs. But mostly, I like how it smells.

Well, I'll never be without it, that's for sure. This historical scent is still this good after 100 plus years? Amazing.
I don't find it off putting at all, furry, fuzzy, louche lived in lavander vanilla, that fresh/"dirty" dichotomy that I particularly enjoy in many of my favourites Kouros on one end, Eau Sauvage at the other. It completely conjures in scent, to me, the Decadent Mouvement and the Belle Epoque of which time it hails. A scent fitting to sensualist esthetes then and now.
2005 edt