Men
Flower by Kenzo Oriental
Acordes principales
Descripción
Flower by Kenzo Oriental by Kenzo is a woody oriental fragrance for women. Launched in 2005, the nose behind this composition is Alberto Morillas. The top notes reveal incense and a floral bouquet; the heart unfolds Bulgarian violet and Bulgarian rose, also known as Bulgarian damask rose; while the base notes close the pyramid with vanilla and pepper.
Resumen rápido
Pirámide olfativa
Estructura completa de la fragancia: de la salida al fondo.
Comunidad
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Propiedad
¿La tienen, la tuvieron o la quieren?
Preferencia
Cómo valora la comunidad esta fragancia.
Uso recomendado
Estación y momento del día con más votos.
Dónde comprar
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Amazon
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Características
Resumen de votos sobre longevidad, estela, género y percepción de precio.
Longevidad
Escasa
Débil
Moderada
Duradera
Muy duradera
Estela
Suave
Moderada
Pesada
Enorme
Género
Femenino
Unisex femenino
Unisex
Unisex masculino
Masculino
Precio
Extremadamente costoso
Ligeramente costoso
Precio moderado
Buen precio
Excelente precio
Reseñas
Experiencias reales de la comunidad sobre uso diario, rendimiento y estela.
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15 reseñas
Mostrando las más recientes primero.
Category:
This fragrance transports you straight to the East with a penetrating powdery floral scent and heavy incense. It’s super long-lasting and smells incredibly special, even if not everyone gets it. It leaves a massive trail as you pass, a sensual scent that leaves no one indifferent.
Fascinating scent, the only one with that powdery touch I love: the incense from Tanaka wood is mysterious, soft, and luxurious, with a very seductive sweetness. The longevity on skin is good, the trail is wide, nothing vulgar or obvious, suitable for any season because it never crosses the line. What a pity they discontinued it… and what an elegant detail: it included a Ukiyo-e Japanese print!
Fascinating aroma, the only one with a slight ‘powdery’ touch that I love: the incense note of Tanaka wood is mysterious, soft, and luxurious. The sweetness is very seductive. The longevity on the skin is good, the trail is wide, not vulgar or obvious, suitable for any season because it never feels excessive. It’s a pity they discontinued it… it came with a very nice extra gift: a Japanese Ukiyo-e print. What an elegant gesture!
I’m not an expert on Japanese legends, but I’m fascinated by the Yuki Onna, a female spirit that wanders the snow; if you cross her path, you’ve reached your destination because she freezes people (in other versions, she’s a blood-sucking vampire). She has jet-black hair, a white kimono that vanishes into the snow, pale or purple skin, leaves no footprints, levitates, and is a malevolent yet highly stylized, mysterious presence. Flower Oriental could be the scent announcing her arrival. It’s talc-heavy and nebulous, yet also smoky, delicate, fragile, and virginal, with a mysterious undercurrent; it’s a white perfume made for a maiden, but it has a dark, sinister reverse side that the original scent already had, subtle but evident if you’re observant, almost like a devil who knows how to change his voice and impersonate a sweet child, but once you get close, you think ‘this bastard is older than the world.’ Flower Oriental is a beautiful perfume. There’s a word I hate because it seems cheesy: ‘delicatessen.’ Well, this is a ‘delicatessen.’ It embodies the fineness and delicacy of meticulous crafts that, with a gust of wind or a sudden temperature change, pass on to a better life. Something about it reminds me of those expensive, exotic bonsai trees: delicate, capricious, and fragile, capable of dying at the slightest unexpected moment despite years of careful tending. This fragrance has the tormented fragility of so many souls unprepared for this world. It retains the snowy, misty nature of its first version, but it’s a flanker with enough substance to sell on its own; the incense gives it an air of mystery and even misfortune that sets it apart from the original. I can’t fathom why it’s discontinued while Kenzo’s recent, awful launches are still everywhere… It can be worn by a teenager, an adult woman, or even an elderly person. A man could wear it too. It’s a perfume that makes you think and surrender to daydreaming… absolutely melancholic. I keep a 50 ml bottle wrapped like gold.
I’m not an expert in Japanese mythology, but I’m fascinated by the Yuki Onna, a spirit that wanders over the snow and freezes anyone who crosses her. She has black hair, a white kimono, and pale skin, leaving no footprints, levitating, a stylized and mysterious presence. Flower Oriental could be the fragrance announcing her arrival. It’s talcum-powdery and misty, but also smoky; delicate, fragile, and virginal, with a dark, sinister background, subtle but evident, almost like a devil who knows how to imitate a sweet child’s voice. Flower Oriental is gorgeous. I hate the word ‘delicatessen’ for being cheesy, but this is it. It has the fineness of meticulous work that dies with a breath of air. It reminds me of exotic and very expensive bonsais: delicate, capricious, fragile, dying when least expected. This fragrance has the tormented fragility of souls unprepared for this world. It retains the snowy nature of the first version, but it’s a flanker with its own entity; the incense gives it mystery and sorrow. I don’t understand why it’s discontinued while Kenzo’s latest releases are still available. It can be worn by a teenager, an adult, or an elderly person, and even a man. It’s a perfume that makes you think and dream… absolutely melancholic. I keep a 50 ml bottle like gold in a brocade bag.
Kenzo Flower Oriental is a marvel of a perfect stage, recreating classic Japanese culture. Spraying it recreates an atmosphere of clean, silent ritual and mourning. Yasujiro Ozu could be framed within this lost perfume. His film ‘A Father’ depicts the severe yet tranquil attitude of a teacher who loses a student and blames himself, moving cities and taking humble jobs to pay for his son’s education. The child, understanding the sacrifice, tells him how much he missed him, but also that he learned from him great humanity. This perfume and the movie give me a heart flip. I feel like a spectator at the initial wake, the mourning where Chishū Ryū plans his punishment. That pure, light, ceremonial incense, not heavy, is the scent of great Japanese mourning, the smell of the silence room alongside the cotton of kimonos. While this teacher, wrapped in that aroma of guilt and purification, finds redemption, I catch a faint scent of violets and roses entering through a sliding door; there we enjoy the flowers of Kenzo Oriental. That scent returns with the years to his memory, without leaving the mourning, upon realizing he fulfilled his error and turned his son into an honorable man. The true beauty of the human struggle to redeem oneself is seen here, in his sadness and joy at reuniting. Thank you, Spartacus, for the sample; you have a beautiful and evocative perfume that represents the splendor of the great house Kenzo.
I’m not a huge fan of Kenzo and find almost all of them too musky, from the Flower and Homme lines. Until FLOWER BY KENZO ORIENTAL arrived. Not only do I like it, I’m fascinated by it. Thanks to Spartacus, I was able to try one of those unfortunately discontinued ones. I don’t travel to Japan, but to Imperial China in the 8th century, with director Kenji Mizoguchi. In ‘The Empress Kikei’, the Emperor listens to music in a cherry blossom garden remembering his deceased wife. This perfume smells like that scene: melancholic beauty, a memory of lost days, and ephemeral splendor. Delicate, everything is misty and dreamlike. Like jade figures or carved gardens. An incense like gauze, a vanilla like a breeze, roses, tea, and linden (undeclared) that immerse us in a blooming world, delicate, ethereal, and intangible. A world that escapes the eyes but is etched in the soul. Like the cherry blossom that doesn’t last on the tree but lives eternally in the heart.
It doesn’t evoke anything Japanese for me; in fact, it seems quite French to me. Maybe it’s just me and I don’t associate vanilla with Japan, but this Kenzo Oriental smells so much like vanilla, it brings me memories of Shalimar and Samsara. I agree with my friends: it’s absolutely gorgeous. That feeling of torn mist, sacred ceremony, slow movements… it invites introspection. It’s like a tree with gnarled roots thousands of years old that every spring fills with pink buds as if it were new. Now that I think about it, all that is very Japanese. It’s one of those perfumes I feel lucky to own.
Everything Alberto Morillas creates is fantastic, unique, and irrepetible. Lately, before buying, I check who made it, and if it’s Morillas, I buy it without thinking. I love it!
I was given a sample that ended up in my husband’s closet. Every time he wore it, I’d ask what he was wearing, and he’d say it smelled delicious; I thought it was masculine. When it ran out, he asked me to buy him one, and I found out it was a women’s fragrance that was no longer available. This proves that women’s perfumes sometimes work for men, which is the reverse that’s more difficult. Anyway… a beautiful perfume that smells amazing.
My husband was gifted a sample, and without meaning to, it ended up in the bathroom cabinet. Every time he wore it, he’d ask me what perfume he was wearing, and I’d tell him it smelled divine, thinking it was a men’s fragrance. When it ran out, he asked me to buy him more. When I went to find it, I discovered it was a women’s perfume and that it’s no longer made. It proves that women’s perfumes sometimes work for men, which is harder the other way around. Anyway, a beautiful perfume that smells amazing.
Dear Kenzo executives: What on earth did you do to discontinue a masterpiece? It’s unique, irrepetible, and irreplaceable. It’s the essence of the Woman perfume.
Kenzo guys: what the hell did you do by discontinuing such a masterpiece? Unique, irreproducible, and irreplaceable. It’s the quintessential essence of the women’s perfume.
Flower is my grandmother’s perfume, which explained my initial rejection. But a friend sent me a sample of this discontinued version, and I decided to try it. The oriental, despite sharing the violet with the original, is distinct enough that I finished the sample without regret. It opens with smoky violet and pepper, spicy and subtle. It brings me peace, like stepping out of a thermal spring, a scent I’d never felt before. Over time, the incense fades, leaving violet with vanilla, like baby wipes, just like the original, which is my least favorite part. As it dries, the black pepper sweetened with vanilla accompanies the velvety texture of the violet. After several days, it’s a beautiful perfume, even if it’s not quite my style. I see it as feminine and mysterious, ideal for cold days or reflective nights. Pleasant: 7/10 Interesting: 9/10 Versatile: 6/10 Original: 9/10
Smells like glory: incense, violet, rose, and vanilla. I fell in love at first sniff, even though it’s almost identical to my Organza Indecence, so I felt compelled to sell this Kenzo. It’s flawless; in fact, it’s unique—nothing else smells quite like it. If you can get your hands on it, don’t hesitate for a second.