Men
Eau de Gentiane Blanche
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Descripción
Eau de Gentiane Blanche by Hermès is an aromatic fragrance from the aromatic family, created for men and women. Launched in 2009, its composition is signed by perfumer Jean-Claude Ellena.
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1,513 votos
- Positivo 82%
- Negativo 14%
- Neutral 3.9%
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The day I tried it, the salesperson stepped back a bit to spray the paper and told me it was a very strong and “quite special” aroma. Haha.
As a user of Eau D’Orange Verte, I agree with the previous friend: ‘If you’ve ever had a garden full of weeds to pull, this fragrance will make you think of it’. That’s exactly what I felt, with the difference being that it’s citrusy, orange-like. This has captivated me, and I’d love to at least smell it.
If you’ve ever had a garden full of weeds to pull, this fragrance will make you think of it… because it has a very explicit vegetal scent! Upon smelling it, the first thing I thought of was my childhood, playing in the backyard of my house, that bitter and green smell of plants. It’s quite original; I’ve never smelled a fragrance like this before.
As a user of Eau D’Orange Verte, I have to agree with the friend who commented before me: if you’ve ever had a garden full of weeds to pull, this fragrance will make you think of it. That’s exactly what I felt with Eau D’Orange Verte, except this one is citrusy. Considering this, it has completely caught my attention, and I’d love to at least smell it.
I hate it. It’s the most unpleasant scent I’ve ever known. To me, it smells like a stale pharmacy. I don’t understand why they try to sell this as a perfume.
I don’t like it at all. It’s the most unpleasant smell I’ve ever encountered. It smells like an old pharmacy. I don’t understand how they try to sell this as a perfume.
I have it in my Hermès collection! It’s different from its sisters; it’s not citrusy but maintains that smell of brambles that so many find soothing. At first, I wasn’t used to its notes, but upon re-testing The Different Company, especially Tokyo Bloom, and that unprecedented touch of brambles… I don’t recall smelling gentian, but with the certainty of the musk, iris, and incense, there’s no doubt it smells like gentian.
As the name suggests here, it’s an original scent, quite vegetal and woody, in line with the rest of Hermès perfumes. It reminds me of Voyage d’Hermès, just a bit more muted. The downside is that the scent doesn’t last and fades in just a couple of hours. If it weren’t for that, it would be my signature scent.
As they say, it’s an original, vegetal, and woody scent, in the Hermès line. It reminds me of Voyage d’Hermès, but more muted. The bad part is that it doesn’t last and fades in about two hours. If it did, it would be my favorite perfume.
I remember buying this after trying wonders like Terre and its classic Orange Verte, thinking it would be something groundbreaking. And what a shock it was: it’s the rarest, most different, and unique perfume I’ve ever tried. Its opening is scandalous, very vegetal and grating; it reminds me of cooking with garlic, parsley, and onion. I apologize, that’s my perception. I haven’t used it in years, something rare for me. The worst part is that I don’t see a clear use, day, night, winter… in all situations it still smells like onion or garlic. What a pity. The most unpleasant smell I’ve tried in perfumery, for no reason.
I remember buying it after trying Terre and Orange Verte; I thought it would be devastating, and it was. It’s the rarest and most unique perfume I’ve ever tried. The opening is scandalous, very vegetal and grating, reminding me of cooking with garlic, parsley, and onion. It’s strange that I’ve had it unused for years and can’t see a clear use for it; it smells like onion or garlic in any situation. It’s the most unpleasant scent I’ve tried, plain and simple.
I think it’s a very special cologne with an incredible vegetal scent. It smells like freshly cut herbs, with a subtle touch of parsley and lots of iris. It’s ideal for daytime, in spring or summer. Although it’s expensive and hard to find in Chile, it’s worth trying.
I think this fragrance stays in the range of a cologne, but it’s a gem. I love the smell, very vegetal as many say. It smells like freshly cut herbs, with a subtle touch of parsley, and what I notice most is the iris. It’s totally for daytime, for daily use, ideal for spring-summer. Its price is high and it’s hard to find in Chile, but it’s worth trying.
I’ve been wearing this perfume for a year and use it without thinking, one of those ‘no fuss’ scents. Yesterday, after using Sun by Nuxe and feeling cloying, I looked for something more bitter and light for work. To my surprise, it lasted over ten hours on my skin. Every now and then, a breeze would rise, and I’d smile: it was like a morning mist, a crackle of rain, and the coolness of a cold dawn with dewdrops embracing me. Maybe it sounds crazy, but that was my feeling. I’m going to stop wasting it on stupid occasions and give it its chance because, ladies and gentlemen, it has captivated me.
Gentian is a wild, bitter, medicinal flower that reminds me of Fernet or Bitter Kas: a rough luminosity with an old sweetness that kids hate. That unique personality explains why it rarely appears in perfumes; in twenty years, I only recall two dedicated to it, this one by Hermès and Guerlain’s from 1999, which smelled like a pharmacy and cola. A year ago, Roger & Gallet released Utopia de Verbena with gentian, but that note barely shines and disappears quickly. I keep my Guerlain bottles like gold and hunt for creations with this crawling flower; the Hermès one is an extravagance not because of the gentian, but because of the dry-down: a disturbing, femme fatale vegetal sweetness. It’s a rarest eau, as if a vegetal perfume turned into a vegetable vampire without losing its essence as a garden vegetable. The opening is incredible: it smells like fava beans, tons of them in a warehouse, cold, with bark, hairy interior, mud, and a plastic taste from boxes. It brings back memories of 1970s sports lotions. Things get weird when the green, damp iris sweetens and smokes with the incense, while an insidious, acidic musk takes control. The garden-and-cattle vegetal perfume turns into a vegetable vampire. The funny thing is it doesn’t lose its garden nature, as if an Arcimboldo portrait became coquettish and winked at you. Hermès is a proposal worth considering; I believe it’s already discontinued. If I had focused the composition on organic roughness rather than the smoky sweetness of the dry-down, it would still be a water that breaks schemes. Probably its recent release makes it invisible, but in years to come, it will be remembered as a strange and rare launch. P.S.: Only for lovers of the earthy and vegetal; after using half the bottle, no one has complimented me, but I don’t care.
Gentian is a wild little flower with a bitter, medicinal, and zesty flavor. The idea on the palate could be a Fernet or Bitter-style liqueur, something with a rough luminosity and hints of old sweetness, that taste you get as a kid and hate instantly. Probably that unique personality is why it’s not used much in perfumery. In the last twenty years, I only remember two dedicated waters: this one and Guerlain’s, a gem with a smell of a pharmacy and cola refreshment. Last year, Roger & Gallet released one with prominent gentian, but after trying it, the gentian was completely absent. Keeping my pair of Guerlain bottles and searching for creations about this creeping flower, Hermès’ Ode à la Gentiane seems like an extravagance. Not because it carries gentian, but because the notes sublime its dried aspect until it gives it a very unsettling, femme fatale vegetal sweetness. It’s a rare water, as if in a certain part of evolution, what was hinted at as vegetal perfume turned into a vegetable vampire without losing its body of produce. The opening is amazing: smell of beans, tons of beans locked away in a warehouse protected from the heat, cold and very vegetal, with bark and hairy interior, with bits of mud and the plastic taste of boxes. I know it won’t go crazy for everyone, but it brings back memories of seventies sport lotions. Things get weird when you realize it won’t evolve further; the green, damp iris sweetens and smokes thanks to the incense and an insidious, acidic musk. Here, the vegetal perfume, smelling of a vegetable garden and healthy livestock, turns into a vegetable vampire. The funny thing is that it doesn’t lose its garden nature, as if an Arcimboldo portrait became coquettish and winked at you. Whatever it is, Hermès is a proposal worth considering; I think it’s already discontinued. If it were up to me, I would have focused the composition on the nuances of organic roughness and greenness rather than the smoked sweetness of the drying. Probably having it so close makes it invisible, but in a few years it will be remembered as one of Hermès’ strangest launches and will acquire rare status. P.S.: You have to like earthy and vegetal perfumes to enjoy it; for me, after spending more than half the bottle, it hasn’t earned me a single compliment, which doesn’t bother me.
I remember a green and pleasant opening, atypical but definitely much more pleasant than I expected. In the dry down, its vegetal facet intensifies until it smells like fried green peppers. Since it’s a fragrance that stays close to the skin right away, the scent it leaves isn’t very different from what remains after spending some time cooking a vegetable paella in a closed kitchen. As a cologne, it’s not especially revitalizing or fresh, but within its rarity, I find it very pleasant. And although it’s undoubtedly a complicated scent, one for which I’d have a hard time finding the right occasion, I greatly value that brands like Hermès still dare to bring such original things to the market.
I remember a green, pleasant opening, much better than I expected after reading so many forum comments. As it dries, the vegetal aspect intensifies until it smells like fried green peppers. Since it’s a scent that stays close to the skin, it smells like you just cooked a vegetable paella in a closed kitchen. It’s not revitalizing or fresh, but within its rarity, I find it very pleasant. Although it’s complicated and hard to categorize, I highly value that brands like Hermès launch such original creations.
The gentian rules: it’s herbal, almost woody, with a touch of talc from the iris and musk. It feels more masculine, unconventional, and totally original, as I’ve never smelled this note before. I love it for its rarity. The trail is low, perfect for enclosed spaces and for evening wear.
Eau de Gentiane Blanche is, without a doubt, the most peculiar cologne I’ve ever tried. No sparkling citrus or zesty freshness; instead, the vegetal takes over—very green, like freshly cut grass or wet earth with exposed roots. It has a bitter, grayish nuance, true to its beautiful bottle. It’s linear and minimalist, without twists, but gains a powdery touch as it settles, thanks to the iris and white musks. As an eau de cologne, its performance is surprising: 6 hours on skin with a discreet but constant sillage. It’s an aroma for personal enjoyment, not seeking compliments, ideal for someone confident and with character. A unique jewel that doesn’t follow trends. Bravo, Hermès.