Ysatis by Givenchy

New bottle review with black cap and center sticker: the scent is delicious. It reminds me a lot of Paloma Picasso, as if Ysatis were a watery version of it—I emphasize that it has a similar vibe, but it’s not the same. The worst part is this new reformulation; I don’t know about the elongated bottle version on Fragrantica, but this one is very weak. The first hour is noticeable, then it drops drastically and becomes an intimate perfume. By two hours, you have to press your nose against your skin, and by three, it’s gone. What a shame; it was a truly beautiful fragrance. It will probably disappoint loyal fans or those who wore it before. I can’t even imagine how wonderful the original formula must have been. We live in times where they only sell us reformulations.

I love this perfume. I wore it before going to sleep last night and woke up wrapped in that cloud. It’s in my top 5 collection.

This was my first perfume; I always used colognes and body mists. Incredibly, at 16, I chose it blindly, ignoring that it was a fragrance with many years on the market and perhaps not considered suitable for a young girl. My lack of experience made me wear it anytime, though not daily. I remember it as somewhat strong, but I wore it calmly, using only a few sprays because it had a great sillage… unfortunately, I can’t say it’s a perfume I like, as it doesn’t bring back the best memories: my morning nausea, disgust for many foods I used to enjoy. I stopped using it for several months, not because I wanted to, but because circumstances forced me; I couldn’t tolerate any fragrance, not even soap or detergent. I remember it lasted me several years after that, but what I lived through at that time doesn’t make me remember it as a beautiful perfume, as my olfactory memory doesn’t recall any of its notes—it’s as if I blocked them out. It only evokes uncertainty and insecurity. It’s a pity I had it at that time; if it hadn’t been so, I’m sure I would have enjoyed it. Sometimes I feel like giving it a second chance, but its price isn’t that affordable in my country… and if I outright reject it, I wouldn’t want to waste money. Reviews categorize it as a ‘monster perfume,’ and I don’t doubt it should be, even though I used it at the wrong time.

Ysatis is an eternal jewel, one of the most harmonious floral chypres I know, a pure symphony between aldehydes, ylang-ylang, and a powdery accord of roses and oakmoss. I perceive the neroli very balanced with the animal notes of the terrible civet, all orchestrated like a true symphony orchestra. I agree that the use of fruity lactones, that creamy coconut smell, gives it its own identity, distinguishing it from the classic notes of that era. It’s a very interesting and even seductive classic as it dries down. I like it much more than Chanel No. 5, which is a myth, and may I be forgiven for my lack of cultural knowledge.

It’s a powerful perfume. Not suitable for everyone. A floral chypre very in line with eighties trends to create intense perfumes with good sillage and almost suffocating. Today it’s reformulated. Some essences it contains are banned and they’ve loaded it more with flowers and woods. But it’s a good reformulation. The perfume still has personality. The aldehydes and ylang-ylang stand out accompanied by a dry aroma of white roses and synthetic oakmoss. At least that’s what I perceive on my skin. The rose and neroli are balanced and well-orchestrated. Ropion is an expert at creating perfumes with rose; he always gives it a distinctive, personal touch. It’s not a perfume for anyone; you need a strong personality to wear it, or it might overpower you… nonetheless, it looks great on elegant women with a formal style and can be worn even at galas or engagement dinners. It’s not for running errands or daily morning chores; it’s out of place. It has a lot of presence. Glamour and sophistication. Excellent as a signature perfume. A standout and distinctive piece.

Ysatis seems to me another perfumery marvel. Elegant, feminine, beautiful… It’s a perfume I love because I’m a die-hard lover of ylang-ylang. It’s a perfect, somewhat ‘creamy’ amalgamation of flowers, some citrus touches, sandalwood, honey, and light touches of moss. Its aldehydes are soft, but to me, they seem like an absolute delight.

I like the perfume but I would never wear it because it contains African civet secretions (algalia civet). It’s a pity that animals are still mistreated for a scent when there is white musk that is not of animal origin and gives the same aroma.

It’s the third bottle I’ve bought; it’s exquisite and I absolutely love it. Very feminine.

I bought it blindly and I totally regret it. It smells like old Avon cologne, nothing like the nice notes they talk about. It’s a perfume from another era, with nothing to redeem and no presence. I expected something loud, but I only found a smell of baby powder or spoiled cologne.

Ysatis is a beautiful fragrance. Nowadays, being reformulated, it keeps its beauty but not its muscle, and yet it still has very respectable elegance and sensuality. It lacks the great dark charisma and longevity of the past, but its essence remains captivating. An unexpected twist: aldehydes and neroli were promised, but it’s sweet due to its honey and coconut, docile like a baby’s smile. Its undeniable base, which places it among the greatest feminine fragrances in history, still stands, barely, but it’s there. It’s perfect. It’s the harmony of Givenchy: a sweet, mossy chypre with select flowers wrapped in an ylang that nuances the balance of powerful components. It doesn’t hit you over the head but delivers a mystical, sublime, distinguished result. I could consider it my signature because nothing dominates; everything comes together to form an oriental-aldehyde-chypre-floral-fruit divinity to close your eyes and feel. Ysatis tells a story as it sprays: the oriental fascination of the 80s that enchanted many. It’s the story of a Lady, a Westernized Sherezade in a transparent Persian silk dress, a distant gaze encompassing distant sunsets and sunrises. A perfume to enchant, a mystic that doesn’t cause fear, but if you fall into its web, it’s complicated to get out. It’s a marvelous chimera to believe you’re dancing barefoot between painted veils. It’s no longer in the official house, another casualty.

Yesterday I was at a perfumery and couldn’t help but try Idole, some from Le Petit de Guerlain, others from Kenzo… And by chance, next to me was the Givenchy shelf with all their latest creations in the front row (Interdit, Irresistible…) and abandoned on the upper stands: Organza and Ysatis. Strong, pretentious, elegant (of the old school), but not therefore not beautiful. I dared to spray three fuses and one ended up on my shirt. Today I’m wearing the same shirt, and since I put it on (and let it be known I’m wearing Hyperbole by Courrèges on top), I haven’t stopped smelling Ysatis in the background. Aaaamazing. In its dry-down (very dry), it reminds me of Dior’s Poison because of that honey and neroli. I’m going to grab a 30ml bottle. This winter, we’re going to get along great.

Very elegant, feminine aroma. I still have the same bottle from the 80s that belonged to my mother; a little bit remains at the bottom and the sweet scent still reminds me of her.

I owned it but never liked it.

The Ysatis bottle is a monumental Art Deco jewel—elegant and exuberant—holding a dark, dense liquid capable of intoxicating. I feel the same respect for it as I do for Opium or Paloma Picasso, though I prefer those; it’s a scent that makes me wish I had the confidence to wear it with propriety.

This opinion is directed at its vintage version. Ysatis in the eighties seemed to me a very classic perfume, with a baroque style, full of tenderness and romanticism, very opulent but sublime. From the opening notes, ylang-ylang stood out among that complex and beautiful sea of notes, along with woods and coconut that gave it a creamy tint. After an hour, I felt honey, a shower of white flowers, and an intense carnation, and at the end I perceived a velvety iris with flashes of roses and sweet vanilla. Ysatis was a mature perfume, but I loved it for that feeling of sweetness and tenderness, plus it made me feel unique because no other girl my age usually wore it. Its trail and longevity were enormous, like all perfumes of its era.