Maroussia by Slava Zaitsev
Women 1992
Main accords
Description
Maroussia by Slava Zaitsev is an oriental floral fragrance for women, launched in 1992. Composed by perfumer Slava Zaitsev, it features a complex olfactory pyramid: the top notes combine aldehydes, orange blossom, peach, and bergamot; the heart reveals a bouquet of carnation, ylang-ylang, neroli, heliotrope, iris, jasmine, rose, orchid, and lily of the valley; while the base notes settle on…
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The olfactory pyramid
A guide to the opening, heart and lasting trail of the fragrance.
The community speaks
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In the collection
Leading answer I own it
7,524 votes
What do you think?
Leading answer Like it
3,150 votes
Season
Choose severalLeading answer Winter
2,676 votes
Time of day
Choose severalLeading answer Night
1,662 votes
Each question has its own vote count. You can choose several seasons.
Fragrance profile
About Maroussia
Maroussia by Slava Zaitsev is an oriental floral fragrance for women, launched in 1992. Composed by perfumer Slava Zaitsev, it features a complex olfactory pyramid: the top notes combine aldehydes, orange blossom, peach, and bergamot; the heart reveals a bouquet of carnation, ylang-ylang, neroli, heliotrope, iris, jasmine, rose, orchid, and lily of the valley; while the base notes settle on agarwood, sandalwood, amber, benzoin, vanilla, musk, tonka bean, and cedar.
White flowers Fruits, vegetables and nuts Flowers Woods and mosses Musk, amber and animalic Resins and balsams Spices
It may remind you of
Ranked by what the community voted.
More from Slava Zaitsev
How it wears
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Longevity
Leading answer Moderate
1,225 votes
Sillage
Leading answer Moderate
1,335 votes
Character
Leading answer Traditionally feminine
694 votes
Value perception
Leading answer Excellent value
658 votes
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Community reviews
40 reviews
Share what you noticed: opening, drydown, sillage and the moments when it works for you.
Not even joking, friend, this perfume screams the opposite of class. It’s pure negligence, like a lady in pajamas who hasn’t washed in months. The cap warns of how dangerous it is; better to run.
It’s my absolute signature. It reminds me of myself and fits perfectly. It’s very animalic, and I love it. Others might think it sounds femme fatale, but to me, it evokes old churches and temples, with that dark tonka bean and dried autumn flowers. It’s not for everyone; the perfume and your personality must go hand in hand.
I’ve read everything about Maroussia and can’t add much. It smells like dark 80s and 90s sensuality: a room with candles, women with secrets, black heels, velvet, and opera. It’s a potion of civet, dark vanilla, and musk. It’s nocturnal, for when you dim the lights and light up the candles.
Good price and quality, charismatic and full of personality. Warning: almost all perfumes contain BHT, not just this one. Wish they cared more about the fragrance than the marketing. It’s super feminine with 10/10 charisma.
I bought Maroussia based on good reviews and I’m disappointed. The opening is great, but once it dries, it smells like Floïd lotion. Amber dominates and it’s unisex. If you don’t shower, it highlights sweat instead of hiding it, so it’s not for dancing. It has presence, but no elegance or compliments. With BHT and poor longevity, cheap comes expensive. It’s only worth the initial burst of fruity and musky florals.
Almost medicinal with a dominant clove. Very intense and trendy in the 80s and 90s. It has elegance but smells like a balsam pharmacy. Being an old-fashioned clove without modernization, it’s deeply vintage. It’s a balm full of cloves.
It has an overwhelming personality, serious but not formal. It doesn’t smell like an older lady. The musk and clove come out a lot; it reminds me of Monica Bellucci in Malena. It’s very sexy, nothing gourmand. If you want to smell different from today’s crowd, this is yours.
I admit it smells like a sneeze at first, but the first time it fascinated me. It transports me to an Orthodox church: smell of little candles, incense, solemnity, and icons. It doesn’t resemble anything else; it’s wonderful. I recommend it to those who are running away from modern and overly sweet fragrances.
It’s different from today’s stuff. It smells vintage but isn’t overdone. It’s tender, sweet, and unique. People ask me about it a lot. It leaves an elegant trail, but tenderness wins. Like Anais Anais, it enchants with caresses instead of just seducing. A laughable price for a great fragrance.
I’m writing this in pain: I was convinced I’d love it, but it disappointed me. I don’t want to offend, but I DIDN’T LIKE IT AT ALL. On my skin, it smells like sweat and dirty. The animalic touch didn’t work for me; it’s too strong and vintage. Maybe it just doesn’t suit my pH. If you like sweet or fruity perfumes, don’t buy it blindly.
Hey, here in Seville I was left in tears after reading Anna1983’s comment. Every scent takes you back to a moment in your life, and my mom thinks the same. She bought it years ago, excited about the price. She told me it was special for her when she was young, but a friend smelled it and said it smelled like saliva, which terrified my mom—I don’t even know if she threw it away or kept it. In the end, it was the friend who couldn’t handle the aldehydes, just like with Chanel No. 5. I wish my mom would wear it again, poor thing.
It was my first perfume as a teenager; I copied it from an older girl in my gang whom I admired for being beautiful, sexy, and independent. She’d walk into bars and her perfume would fill the whole place. I loved it and copied it without a second thought. I convinced my mom to buy me a small bottle, which I kept like gold, only for those Saturday night outings—ephemeral but full of beautiful memories from a new, passionate era. Then I made it my own; everyone asked about it, and I proudly said it was Maroussia. No one dared copy it; it was my signature. I wore it in winter and summer. Blessed were the 90s and early 2000s, when perfumery was good and every scent was distinct. I wish that era would return. Then came Mugler’s Angel, which, while it doesn’t quite fit my style today, remains a great perfume. Now I keep a small bottle of Maroussia and spray it occasionally to dream of stolen kisses and discoveries from that time. Hugs.
It’s incredible that around the year 2000 this perfume was mid-to-high range, and the 30 ml cost 3,500 pesetas. I suppose L’Oréal’s entry had something to do with why its price is now laughable. Back then, I wore it to go out at night, but it eventually seemed overwhelming, so I gave it to my mom. Now it’s one of my winter favorites. A profusion of carnations makes it feel more spicy, resinous, and with a musk that isn’t the finest. You either love it or hate it, but I love Maroussia. I don’t know if it’s been reformulated, but it smells exactly the same as back then; it’s punchy, distinctive, and long-lasting. Genius and figure. It smells of Slavic orientality and imperial Russian court, but from the time of Ivan the Terrible, with palace rooms of brocades and ermine furs, lugubrious and intimidating. It might scare you on the first spray, but its evolution is kinder, and its powderiness is delicious. It has a personality that more expensive perfumes would kill for. Maroussia is Maroussia, and that is its main virtue.
Is the carnation for the dead? To me, this flower feels more alive than many others. That spicy sweetness is sensual, like the frenzy of two couples dancing the tango. It smells like crimson lipstick on the skin of the wrong men. For her, the bad guys are the best: they entangle you in narcissistic conversations, flatter you without knowing you, and move their bodies with eroticism to lure you into a trap. She wears extravagant niche perfumes, laughs, and takes them for what they are. She is wise, feeling like a sly fox who learned to hide. The carnations must be freshly cut, at midnight, with that intoxicating bite. She loves vodka, leathers, and furs. Her satin lingerie smells like the incense from her travels. There’s an aldehydic, orange-flower, romantic aspect of her innocent past that hasn’t disappeared entirely, but one must move forward due to the world’s demands. She loves talking about transformation. When sharing her scent, she isn’t so dark; strokes of the past appear to lead to her current heart—carnation-scented, earthy, and passionate. The vintage version was amazing; I enjoy the current one immensely. The fragrance stays right on the skin, lasts forever with a resinous, floral, animalic, and earthy touch. The nights with her are the ones I enjoy the most.
I love this perfume. Personally, it doesn’t smell vintage to me; it’s floral and powdery. It has personality and is delicate at the same time. It has a beautiful iris note. A man could wear it without a problem, since the civet note is very perceptible and gives it a unisex touch. A delight.
What a find! As a kid, I saw something exotic and feminine on TV, and now I have my own bottle. On a guy, it looks incredible: soft, elegant, sensual, nocturnal, and very masculine. It has a dark touch, perfect for winter and special events. It’s intense and addictive; I think it’s super current. One of the best blind buys I’ve ever made. A raw diamond. 100% recommended.
A great defense for Maroussia. I wore it at twenty, and it didn’t resemble anything my friends wore. It reminded me of Loulou (which I wore at fifteen): no common notes, both were enveloping, intense, and narcotic. To me, Maroussia smells like youth. The aldehydes don’t hurt me (not the ones from Estée, but the Chanel No. 5 ones do… weird for me with them). The carnation and spices blend to leave a creamy, good base. A survivor from when small perfumeries had great, cheap products. A chance to escape today’s mass-produced perfumes (La Vie Est Belle, Sì, Good Girl… I don’t judge if they’re good or if I like them, just that so much advertising saturates me).
Fantastic vintage fragrance with original notes that stand out from current trends. Timeless and unique.
Spectacular. I’m a man, and on me it smells of carnation, vanilla, spices, and cinnamon… totally recommended. Anecdote: a friend said it smelled good, and upon learning it was Maroussia, she looked surprised and asked if that perfume wasn’t for old ladies. Haha.
Maroussia is a majestic, elegant, and magnetic oriental with a floral and spicy touch, powerful and bright aldehydes, and warmth… it gives so much for so little. Its opening is a punchy floral blend driven by a creamy, bright aldehyde; it might be intimidating at first, but that’s what gives it the great personality you sense the moment you meet it. It’s a Russian princess with genuine character who doesn’t do half-measures: what you smell is exactly what’s there. Then comes that red velvet softness in its evolution, giving you the warmth a precious perfume deserves for cold days, thanks to the spice’s kick, the oily ylang-ylang, the heat of amber, and the docile vanilla. Its ending is very different, marked by galbanum, the star component that adds color, passion, and tenderness. It’s dirty, but in a creamy, sensual way that adds mystery and completes it. If you don’t like civet, run, because it nuances everything and could knock you out if it’s not your style, but if you can handle it, it’s irresistible and unforgettable. It feels mature, not serious, with a cold-warmth both physical and emotional. It doesn’t overwhelm, but it has a lot of personality, like someone very much their own who, when they commit, is loyal and devoted. It’s the vintage Maroussia, which varies by box and bottle, perhaps less deep than the current version. The trail is soft but noticeable, and the longevity is impeccable. A must-have for those romantically cold and melancholic days.
It was one of my youth perfumes, many years ago. I bought it again because I felt it was missing from my collection, but… what a disappointment! It doesn’t smell much like what I remembered perfectly. The opening now seems very synthetic; as it dries, it becomes soapy but not unpleasant, and the base reminded me of it much more as a musk. In short, another victim of L’Oréal and their habit of reformulating great perfumes. Someone please put their foot down.
Smells like skunk pee, valita87? OMG! I’d be worried about my sense of smell if I were you…, just kidding.
A fragrance from the past that I liked a bit back in the nineties. It was by L’Oreal, cost six thousand pesetas in 2000, about 40 euros today. It was a mid-range cologne. Nowadays, like Elizabeth Arden’s, it’s ridiculously cheap. It does evoke Russia in the scent, but it smells chemical and like carnations, with nothing to highlight. The dry down doesn’t convince me, neither now nor when it first hit the market.
I’d say it’s my favorite among the classics I own. It seems elegant yet fresh, very wearable, long-lasting, perfect for winter, autumn, or even spring days. It’s not seductive, but it conveys security and is extremely pleasant. Quality-to-price ratio is a 10! Fun fact: in Germany’s dm drugstores, they sell a 15 ml bottle for 5 euros, beautiful for collecting. Scent 8/10, Longevity 8/10, Sillage 8/10, Value 10/10, Versatility 8/10, Packaging 9/10. Would I buy it again? Yes.
I adore it!!! I’ve been using it since I was 20, and when I found it for under ten euros a few years ago, I didn’t hesitate to grab a couple of bottles. I can’t find a similarity to any other fragrance I know.
If you have patience and don’t go by the first impression, it’s one of the best you can find. The opening is abrupt, like a slap in the face. After 40 minutes, that slap transforms into a sweet caress that becomes addictive. You unconsciously bring your wrist to your nose because you need to feel the scent over and over…
I bought it for the price. I really liked the bottle, but when I sprayed it, I thought it was horrible. It smells very intense, dizzying, and old-lady-ish. It’s very persistent, still smelling hours later, but it undergoes a curious transformation. After two or three hours, it changes completely, and many people tell me ‘you smell great.’ Still, it’s not enough for me to buy it again. I want a perfume I like from start to finish.
Buy blind, don’t do it! A horror, I had to gift it to my mother-in-law. After two hours, I started smelling skunk pee or cat, did this happen to anyone? Oh, and it can definitely be unisex.
Just bought it blind and with fear; when I checked the ingredients, I regretted seeing the aldehydes. What a pleasant surprise, it’s delicious. Very powdery, sweet, unique. A very fine perfume for special occasions and cold days. I was pleasantly surprised, I imagined it differently. I don’t notice the aldehydes, I do smell peach and neroli. Excellent quality-to-price ratio, very low. I can’t find a similarity to any other. Would I repeat? Probably.
A great perfume that can only be found in Europe now, I think it’s been discontinued in other countries. It’s one of my top 5 in my collection.