Rozy, what a gorgeous thing you are! This is the scent that turned my mind completely around concerning not only roses, but tuberose, my old nemesis. Here, the waxy floral note is leavened and deepened by a beautiful leathery honey and styrax that run throughout the long life of the fume. And on first application, a striking almost gasoline-like note reminds me surprisingly of Knize Ten. Plus, beneath it all, is that same vetiver darkness that underpins Onda and makes it the stunning, old world mystery that it is. I find this scent both beautiful and also deeply provocative, in the way a suspected witch or vampiress might be. A fragrance for an idiosyncratic individual who lives outside of time and society's constraints. For this very reason, Rozy is what I imagine Tilda Swinton's character wore in Only Lovers Left Alive.
A true work of rare genius. This might be one of the most unusual and elegant perfume for self assured mature woman who she wanted a modern perfume of her favorite vintage. The scent is like a amazing vintage. Deep blend of pure rose and tuberose which envelops in warm spices and sweet honey that makes the sort of fragrance that would make a great signature scent. Smart, mysterious, intoxicating, sultry, timeless,
sophisticated, sweet, fascinating, glamorous, rich, floral, gorgeous, passionate, deep and complex.
The opening is just amazing, luscious and heady of tuberose and a whisper of nutmeg and melon. It quickly moves into rosy and woody notes and for a brief time the labdanum stand out distinctly before the whole develops into a sweet and creamy blend of honey and sandalwood that makes you feel the iconic woman of mystery. Burning notes evokes nostalgia and embodies the star qualities of charisma, elegance and glamour of a queen who knew in her heart that the fighting was not over-that it had just begun! It is rich and striking enough to be a brilliant eveing scent.
Perfumery gets away with a lot. It can tell you quite a bit if you're listening, but because it can't be pinned down to any literal meaning, it appears entirely subjective. It's the ongoing problem of scent and language. Because we can't express clearly to others what we smell, we confuse the personal for the subjective. Scent doesn't convey a repeatable, specific meaning in the way a visual image does. Show 10 people a photo of a cat, ask, "What is this?" and they'll all answer either a cat or an image of a cat. Representation is easy with the visual. It gets harder with the olfactory. Wave a fragrant rose under 10 noses and ask the same question and you might get a majority of "Rose" answers. Try the same with perfume and who knows what the responses will be.
Vero Kern creates the tools to look a little closer. The three versions of her fragrances--extrait, voile d'extrait, eau de parfum--are not just different concentrations. They are different points of view. Kern states that the purpose of the voile d'extrait is to combine the potency and shape of the extrait with the lift and expansiveness of the edp. In investigating an idea over the course of three versions of the perfume, Kern does in one shot what Edmond Roudnitska did over his career with Eau Sauvage, Diorella and Parfum de Thérèse. Both perfumers explore an idea or set of principals over the course of a number of perfumes.
Branding is apparently a necessary evil, and Kern's approach is both old-school and effective. Not the the marketing blunderbuss of Chanel or the LVMH subsidiaries. Not the dancing-as-fast-as-I-can dissembling of Creed PR. Not the bell-curve mediocrity you get when design and marketing are so close as to be indistinguishable (Maison Francis Kurkdjian). Vero Profumo's strategy appears to be this: make a concise and well-edited line of exceptional products, package them beautifully, let the artist speak.
The three versions of her perfumes aren't an attempt to gain a larger demographic foothold and they aren't the product of focus group tinkering. They are the expression of fully explored creative concepts. Each model stands on its own, but smelling the different versions feels like an exploration. Perfumery tends to have a very limited view of the relationship of perfumes in a line. A line is formed by throwing everything against the wall and seeing what sticks ( ie., serial releases) and then copying what does stick ( ie., flankers) Kern's approach borrows from other art forms and, while each of her perfumes is a complete work, it can also be understood as an episode, a movement, an act, a part of a series or triptych.
.rozy highlights perfume's capacity to explore aesthetics. Despite marketing that tells you that a perfume is 'about' yachting, privilege, hipness or cupcakes, or that a perfume will make you sexier, what perfume in fact offers is the chance to explore the world from a particular sensory angle. Kern's work shines when it's viewed conceptually. For all its complexity and density, .rozy has clarity and it wins me over for its beauty and its integrity. Kern doesn't try to convince you, she offers you excellent perfume and asks you to consider it. No bullshit. No yachting, no promise of heightening my allure.
.rozy is thick with ideas. Large dynamic qualities sit next to subtleties. Acute angles and body-shaped curves intersect. While there are references (Knize Ten and Jean Desprez's Bal à Versailles, Anna Magnani's performance in The Rose Tatoo) they aren't overstated. They are enhancements to your experience. The punctuation and spelling of the name tell you that rose is involved, but that it is a qualified rose, 'not your mother's' rose. Rose is nested so far into leather notes that I only notice it out of the corner of my eye. Even the leather is a moving target, ranging from rubber to dust to honey. .rozy isn't the expected woody, balsamic, syrupy or ambered rose. It's hardly a rose perfume at all. It's more of an Easter-egg hunt for the rose that you're told is hidden somewhere. Expectation of a rose might take you into this perfume, but the leathery tar is what sticks to you. .rozy has a long arc over the course of a day, though. Where you first feel caught in a tar pit, by the end of the day you find yourself lounging in a honey pot. Were you captured? Did you choose to stay? Did you submit?
Were you seduced? I was.
.rozy is a serious perfume and requires backbone to wear. Wearing .rozy is like going to the ballet or the opera. Anyone can buy a ticket, but the audience who are taught the language and history of the form appreciates it differently. The same goes for .rozy. Anyone could wear it, but perfumists will just squeal over it.
Wow this is just incredible! I can finally say, hand on heart, that this is a Vero Kern masterpiece worthy of all the praise heaped upon its shoulders. A bit of background I had been playing around with the Rozy EDP for a few weeks now, liked it well enough, but wasn't enthused enough to commit pen to paper yet but then someone reminded me that the Voile d'Extrait versions are easier to understand, so I decided to try the Voile. And, by God, this is good. It's better than good actually the Voile is interesting, textured, intriguing, and ever-changing.
First of all, the Voile presents a rich, nutty vetiver-honey opening quite similar to parts of Onda Voile d'Extrait. I have started to appreciate this in the Onda Voile, so am delighted to see it featured here it smells like hazelnuts pounded to a paste and mixed with vetiver roots and dry honey power, except that hazelnuts have a natural sweetness to them, and this nutty vetiver-honey accord is quite intensely savory and mouth-dry in feel. Compared to the fruity-minty EDP, the opening of the Rozy Voile feels darker, more subdued, smoother, and pleasantly dank'.
Later on, I get a lot of sweet, dusty rubber, reminding me delightfully of strawberry-flavored rubber erasers we used to use in my primary school. I presume this must be some combination of the tuberose and the styrax whatever it is, it fills me with a strange longing for the innocence of youth and the simple pleasures of the school supplies closet. The fruity, rubbery, and dusty elements peek out from below the nutty, savory honey and vetiver layer, and to my surprise, I begin to sense the shape, at last, of a rose, as if the disparate elements and notes I just identified are tiny pixels in a TV screen, only coming together to form a picture when you take a few steps back. The effect is extraordinary the rose only appears when you peer at it indirectly and from afar.
Roses in perfumery are reconstructions built using many different notes and compounds, ranging from cinnamon and lemon oils to geraniol, so I really admire how Vero has seemed to build a rose using a whole set of unrelated notes, and ones that other perfumers don't seem to be using the rubber of tuberose and styrax to suggest the layers of wax on those big, fatty, nostalgic roses used in vintage rose chypres, the touch of honey to approximate the honeyed sweetness of Bulgarian rose oil, and the damp, nutty vetiver suggesting the grassy greenness of stems…..
And in fact, that is how I experience the rose in Rozy a dry, honeyed, waxy, almost stale rose, which is exactly the type of rose I favor the most in perfumery. I like the idea of rose petals covered in wax and decaying slightly on the vine. There are some references here slight ones but present all the same to Lutens' Rose de Nuit. It adds a vintage, retro rose feel to Rozy, and yet, at the same time, Rozy feels modern and interesting not at all referential or throwback'. It feels like Vero has created a new category here, and I love it.
This is a complex and long-lasting fragrance. I have tried the EdP, but felt that the fruity rose in that one was not meant for me.
The Voile d'Extrait on the other hand suits me much better. It is most of all a tuberose fragrance, as others have pointed out. Starting a bit crisp and fruity on my skin, and soon develops into a full tuberose scent. But not pure tuberose; there is certainly a strong element of Knize Ten as alfarom mentioned, a kind of floral-leather-petroleum scent, which is also somewhat powdery. On my skin Knize Ten is more petroleum than leather and it feels the same here with Rozy. There is also a bit of honey, but it is not very prominent on my skin.
All in all it feels like a classical, perhaps a bit old-fashioned 'real' perfume. Unisex and long lasting and with a good projection. The quality of the materials seem very good, but I can't really sense any rose.
Alfarom nails it, but here is my take, for what little it is worth:
With only two minimal sprays, I get animalic honey, of the type experienced with Fumerie Turque; a dry, sharp herb (has to be the coriander seed); a rose+blackcurrant combo, of the type explored already in the classic L'ombre Dans L'eau; and rubbery, green tuberose. A few minutes in, an accord reminiscent of Fumidus joins the blend. By that I mean ashtray + a nutty vetiver. Many hours in, the sandalwood in the base is clear, but as a team player. All of this is blended magnificently.
I read Rozy VdE as clearly a masculine fragrance, sporting moderate projection and LONGGGG duration. 18 hours. Spring and Fall wear.
This perfume truly does meld the best of the classic and the new, imho. Vero Kern hits a homerun with Rozy VdE. Its my favorite perfume of 2014, 8 months in.