Is it just me, or has this past year seen a resurgence of marine fragrances? Besides the above-titled releases, Carner Barcelona & Andrea Maack have dipped their feet in the water with aquatic-themed launches. And just the other day, while walking through the department store, I noticed one of the pioneers of the oceanic 90’s scene, Issey Miyake, was flinging themselves back into the deep blue with the appropriately titled Le Sel d’Issey. I never liked the Japanese brand’s original releases in the early to mid-90s, though. Some of their flankers were okay, but I wince whenever the dreaded “Calone” note appears in a note pyramid. I’m sure I’m not Robinson Crusoe! Anyway, I’m always willing to try new things, and perhaps this latest wave of marine perfumes to wash ashore will make my heart swell with love.
We’re off to a rocky start with Room 1015’s Wavechild. Indeed, The ship pretty much runs aground. Wavechild smells like a cheap bodyspray popping with fruity, citrus, and watermelon notes redolent of bubblegum. This candied sweet component bears more than a passing resemblance to Amongst Waves from Gallagher Fragrances. But that scent, grounded in patchouli, retains a level of sophistication.
Meanwhile, Wavechild comes loaded with Calone and woody amber horrors. Nothing can lift it from the abyss, as the coconut note trends in a predictably sickly, sugary direction. Capping things off is the exorbitant price tag. It’s far too expensive for something that smells like bubblegum or a Jolly Rancher sweet. Escada does this sort of thing for a fraction of the price.
Things pick up (for a moment) with the Bianchi offering, The Mariner’s Rhyme. I’ve not found a scent from her line that I’ve enjoyed from top to dry down. Could this be the one? There’s a sameness about many of her compositions, particularly in the base notes. Thus, if you hate one, you’ll hate them all. Indeed, much of her catalogue smells stuck in a time warp, mired in a sepia-brown slurry.
The Mariner’s Rhyme starts pretty well. For once, I don’t see brown, but relatively bright colors as the combined effects of iris, citrus, and some aromatic facets of elemi and lavender create an almost dry freshness. The scent is built around her favoured powdery iris accord and a chypre framework, with patchouli and mosses providing the anchor. I enjoy it to a point, for about an hour, as the retro stylings don’t seem so heavy-handed. But as it dries down, the sun-filled optimism of the opening drifts further away, the waters become choppy, and the marine facets become too strident. It’s time to jump ship before I get seasick. It’s not the one for me.
Pelagos surprises. It doesn’t smell of the open sea or go down the usual route of a marine scent. There’s no saltiness or obvious nautical references, but it still conveys the sensation of being on or near a beach. It doesn’t feel like a warm beach. Instead, it gives the impression of being on a pebbly beach on a foggy, windswept day surrounded by pine trees.
Like The Mariner’s Rhyme, Pelagos features a prominent iris accord. I prefer the iris here, even though it contributes to the perfume’s darker, more aloof character. It’s creamy and buttery, and in cahoots with the aromatic notes, it reminds me of some of her other work, specifically Issara. I typically avoid assigning gender in fragrance, but I can’t deny that Pelagos leans masculine. The tonka, mosses, woods, and herbal notes give the composition the feel of an aromatic fougere—a lovely piece of work.
Have you sampled any of these perfumes? Do you have a go-to marine scent?
Note: Images are my own. Samples of each perfume purchased by me.
