Lost in Heaven
Francesca Bianchi (2019)
Average Rating:
3 User Reviews
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About Lost in Heaven by Francesca Bianchi
Lost in Heaven – a fragile, sensual, emotional scent – represents the dichotomy of the longing for a place of uncontaminated innocence and the inevitable and controversial burden of life. This duality is portrayed by a selection of the most angelic notes from one side (Orange Flower and Jasmine absolutes, Heliotrope, Sandalwood, Tonka Bean etc.) while the darker side is conveyed via cumin and other spices, several animalistic notes, including a reconstruction of Tonkin Musk.
Fragrance notes.
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Lost in Heaven on eBay (Lost in Heaven by Francesca Bianchi)
Reviews of Lost in Heaven by Francesca Bianchi
There are 3 reviews of Lost in Heaven by Francesca Bianchi.
You're wearing Lost In Heaven, you're in a strange city,and you've been having magnificent sex for days on end.should anyone cross your path before you bathe,this is what you smell like.this is an erotic scent for worldy adults.this fragrance changes wonderfully overtime.sometimes it's woody, sometimes it's spicy, sometimes it's resinous.warm, inviting,never harsh.sultry and sensuous.i think this may be an at-home sort of scent.i'm getting mostly cumin,some orange blossom, ambergris, woods,patchouli and cinnamon.
It gives me the sense of a woman's sweat,i did get cumin. spices are modest here,according to my nose and not aggressive.the middle notes are beautiful soft florals,and now i'm getting a taste of the dry down,which contains my favorite notes. animalic-resiny seem at the far background.i adore how it is never sweet,but lush and deep, rich and utterly delicious.i adore the deep,dark, almost damp shadow that is cast over this prfume by woods.above all,i adore the animalic base that's sexy.overall,a great fragrance, worth having it.
It gives me the sense of a woman's sweat,i did get cumin. spices are modest here,according to my nose and not aggressive.the middle notes are beautiful soft florals,and now i'm getting a taste of the dry down,which contains my favorite notes. animalic-resiny seem at the far background.i adore how it is never sweet,but lush and deep, rich and utterly delicious.i adore the deep,dark, almost damp shadow that is cast over this prfume by woods.above all,i adore the animalic base that's sexy.overall,a great fragrance, worth having it.
I can never tell if Lost in Heaven is a civety floral or a floral civet. There's a brocaded sourness of honey, pale ale, and resin in the far drydown that gives it something to rest against. But mostly this is a bunch of dollhead-sweet flowers blown out into a diffuse cloud of satiny musks and underlined with something very, very unclean like leaning in to kiss and girl and catching a suggestion of unwashed pillowcases, scalp, and skin that's already been licked.
At first, Lost in Heaven reminds me very much of other vaguely retro indie floral civets (or civety florals), especially Maria Candida Gentile's irisy Burlesque a mini of which I bought for myself as a birthday present and am rapidly burning through and Mardi Gras by Olympic Orchids. Then it strikes me that it's not only the civet (or technically, the ambergris in the case of Lost in Heaven) that's linking all these scents in my mind, but a certain indie treatment of the iris, or orris, that they all share. I've smelled it in Andy Tauer's iris-centric work too, most notably in Lonesome Rider and his more recent Les Années 25, and it runs like a hot streak through Francesca Bianchi's work.
The only way I can describe this specifically indie orris treatment is this: take a huge mineral-crusted rock from the beach, wipe it down quickly with a lemony disinfectant, stick it in a clear glass kiln and turn up the heat to 1370 degrees C until it vaporizes, filling the closed-in space with a glittering miasma of acid, mica, and lime-like tartness. I have a suspicion that a matchstick's worth of Ambrox or Cetalox is the fuse that ignites the orris here, with castoreum creating that dusty, soot-like dryness that approaching freshly tanned leather or suede.
The end result is a rather sour and acid-tinged iris that smells like you're smelling the material diffused in the air after a lab explosion rather than from anything growing in nature. Actually, to be fair I've smelled this hot lava stone' treatment of orris in landmark Guerlains too, most notably in Attrape-Coeur (one of my all-time favorite scents), which layers a dollop of peach and raspberry jam over a bed of these hissing-hot iris rocks and watches for the chemical reaction. Fridge-cold jam against hot minerals, with a side of sweet, rubbery dollhead, all blown out into sour, almost boozy mist well, what's not to like, really?
At first, Lost in Heaven reminds me very much of other vaguely retro indie floral civets (or civety florals), especially Maria Candida Gentile's irisy Burlesque a mini of which I bought for myself as a birthday present and am rapidly burning through and Mardi Gras by Olympic Orchids. Then it strikes me that it's not only the civet (or technically, the ambergris in the case of Lost in Heaven) that's linking all these scents in my mind, but a certain indie treatment of the iris, or orris, that they all share. I've smelled it in Andy Tauer's iris-centric work too, most notably in Lonesome Rider and his more recent Les Années 25, and it runs like a hot streak through Francesca Bianchi's work.
The only way I can describe this specifically indie orris treatment is this: take a huge mineral-crusted rock from the beach, wipe it down quickly with a lemony disinfectant, stick it in a clear glass kiln and turn up the heat to 1370 degrees C until it vaporizes, filling the closed-in space with a glittering miasma of acid, mica, and lime-like tartness. I have a suspicion that a matchstick's worth of Ambrox or Cetalox is the fuse that ignites the orris here, with castoreum creating that dusty, soot-like dryness that approaching freshly tanned leather or suede.
The end result is a rather sour and acid-tinged iris that smells like you're smelling the material diffused in the air after a lab explosion rather than from anything growing in nature. Actually, to be fair I've smelled this hot lava stone' treatment of orris in landmark Guerlains too, most notably in Attrape-Coeur (one of my all-time favorite scents), which layers a dollop of peach and raspberry jam over a bed of these hissing-hot iris rocks and watches for the chemical reaction. Fridge-cold jam against hot minerals, with a side of sweet, rubbery dollhead, all blown out into sour, almost boozy mist well, what's not to like, really?
Lost in Heaven is Francesca Bianchi's one-two sucker punch biff, a heat blast of a fully stoked mélange of spices (cinnamon and cumin to the fore), resins and pushy animalic notes; bam, a condensed fug of uber-honeyed florals. This is Nicolaï's kitchen queen Maharinih slugging it out in the boxing ring of perfume maximialism with some dirty-panties mixed floral of yore. Although the materials used are top-notch, the composition suffers from too many bold personalities trying to claim their space on this crowded dancefloor (and yes, Heaven was a bit like that as I recall, despite the music being utter shite). It falls to the patchouli in the base to plead for unity and it makes some headway in that direction, but the going is bumpy. Finally the florals are pretty much sent into banishment and this becomes one of those hot-under-the-collar, growling spicy orientals that, I find, are best admired from a safe distance.
Assertiveness training in a bottle, should one require such a thing.
Assertiveness training in a bottle, should one require such a thing.
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