Vert d’Encens by Tom Ford

Ingredient quality is top-tier, a true work by creative director Tom Ford. Although it’s discontinued, it’s still easy to find if you have the right contacts because the market hasn’t swallowed it up. It makes sense: it smells mature, serious, and elegant, far from the overt sexual appeal of his other scents. It’s a conifer that caught me with its simplicity and complexity; even though I don’t usually wear green incense, this made me feel cozy and elegant for the cold. It opens with a very marked, resinous incensed pine, featuring an undeclared cinnamon and a talcated heliotrope that’s almost gourmand, lasting forever. This pine-and-heliotrope combo lasts 6 out of the 8-9 hours, with the rest being a delightful scent of talcated resins. It transports me to a cabin in the woods, green pines, cold, little snow, incense and resins burning in the fireplace. It lasts days on skin and clothes because it’s all resin. Brutal quality despite the commercial failure. Ideal for sober events and elegant attire; if you wear it to a party or club, you’ll look ridiculous. It’s unisex, though it leans feminine, but a man wouldn’t look out of place either. A brilliant proposal from Tom Ford in his most serious era, beautifully executed by Olivier Guillotin, a sophisticated touch to the encyclopedia of conifers.

Spectacular incense, green, balsamic, and even a little earthy, original without a doubt, I hadn’t smelled an incense so green and natural until now, simply amazing. The opening is very green, where you notice the fir and pine with astonishing naturalness, it’s like when you put up the Christmas tree and after touching the branches and needles, you smell your hands, and that green and natural scent that gets impregnated, that’s how it smells to me. This opening lasts a breath and then the incense and resins appear, sweetening the green notes, which don’t disappear after this opening, recreating a very natural green aroma, with a precious resinous sweetness, in which the first trails of a spectacular incense begin to be distinguished. Gradually the green notes start to fade and the incense takes over the scent, which, along with the resins and a very faint talcated floral reflection, speaks of the East and its stories, offering us a sweetly resinous and frangibly floral fragrance with a beautiful woody veil at the bottom. In its final phase, the woods are felt more, leaving a resinous incense over a woody background, almost talcated, fine, elegant, and full of mystery, which has left me drooling and circling a very bad, terrible idea… to acquire a full bottle of this magnificent elixir. Very good performance, it lasts on skin for more than 8 or 9 hours with few sprays, its trail is moderately high at the start and then becomes moderate, and although it’s not exaggerated, it marks a very dignified presence. As for its use, I see it more appropriate for cold and mild seasons and for the night, although it wouldn’t be out of place on a fresh winter or autumn morning. It has been a perfume I’ve loved, with magnificent quality, but with a major flaw, its price, although, if you can afford it, the perfume is highly recommended, but if not, better not even smell it, because you’ll want it and it really hurts the wallet, hehe.

I really like the Ford line; they cater to all audiences: from cheap colognes to luxury jewels, and they also value the artistic and less commercial, like this Vert d’Encens, a very vintage perfume. The name is misleading; the incense is barely noticeable, it’s residual. What you smell is a mix of powdery blue talc in the Guerlain style and a cinnamon-dominant oriental that takes over the dry down. It should be called Vert de Cannelle. I remember almost buying it blindfolded thinking it would be a green, wet incense, what luck I didn’t. The opening is dated, with dusty violet, vegetal iris, and anguished peaks like Grey Flannel or Guerlain’s Blue Hour, a battle of violet, lily, and heliotrope with hints of carnation. It smells like Frenchified heliotrope, a bit out of place today. Then the heliotrope paste with lingering floral notes turns sweet and unroasted, like a white marzipan torrone, evoking a workshop but more sophisticated, with a pastry aftertaste that you visualize as warm. The sweetness comes from the resins and the freshness of the green notes which, unfortunately, I can’t distinguish separately, they only add a balsamic and cool tone to that old heliotrope marzipan. I already know I don’t like it. And when an unexpected guest arrives, the cinnamon enters, joining the vanilla-talc of the Belle Époque to mutate into an eighties oriental. The label doesn’t match; I only smell shrill, spicy cinnamon, like Hot Tamales, more like bubblegum, strangely green and smoky. I don’t feel the myrtle, fir, or pine they claim, but I do feel that sweet paste enhanced by something balsamic and smoky. The incense, the main actor, I barely catch it as a half-second mirage at 4 or 5 minutes. I looked up the official notes because Fragrantica fails: they list balsam fir, pine, heliotrope, lavender, basil, bergamot, lemon, cardamom, and heather. Now even less than before… where is the cinnamon, clove, and carnation? That’s all I smell: heliotrope, cinnamon, clove, and carnation. Period. It’s discontinued. P.S.: It seems more feminine to me, ideal for La Bella Otero or Frankenhooker. P.S. II: I read many reviews about magnificent forests and pure nature, but I don’t understand anything.