Aldebaran, sounding like a planet from Star Wars, sees the dynamic duo of Marc Antoine Barrois (MAB) and Quentin Bisch take on tuberose. Curiosity got the better of me, and I looked it up. It was the planet Alderaan, which was blasted into oblivion in the classic sci-fi series. Aldebaran, not a planet but a red giant, cooler in temperature and larger than our sun, is, in fact, the name of the brightest star in the Taurus constellation. So armed with this knowledge, I had no idea what to expect from Aldebaran. I never know what to expect from Bisch and Barrois. Would we get something weird like Encelade and Ganymede, or buoyant like Tilia? It turns out that Aldebaran straddles a middle ground between the MAB fragrances, strange in parts and more conformist in others.
At no time does Aldebaran smell like a tuberose from a galaxy far, far away, though. I’m rooted on terra firma. It opens up minty and camphoraceous, hinting at classic tuberose scents like Serge Lutens Tubéreuse Criminelle or Malle’s Carnal Flower. I must stress that it feels more controlled and tamer than the Serge Lutens, though. A claw-bearing tuberose, this is not. Don’t expect the flamboyance of Fracas. Still, not everyone will like this early phase of the fragrance. Indeed, it may shock some, if not quite as much as finding out that Darth Vader is your father.
The tuberose takes on this icy, cool guise for the first hour. My snowflake tree is growing again, and I keep thinking that if it had a scent, it would smell something like the opening of Aldebaran. After the hour mark, comes the warmth.
Aldebaran starts to transition into a creamier arrangement. I get the impression that some other floral enters the mix. It’s almost as if the tuberose links with gardenia or muguet. It becomes quite milky and displays some of those dreamy, lush qualities I often get from gardenia arrangements. This stage gives me flashbacks to Parfum d Empire’s Un Bel Amour d’Été from last year.
I’ve referenced other tuberose scents in my appraisal, but Aldebaran isn’t an “attack of the clones”. In its next phase, Aldebaran starts to come into its own. It takes on an earthy, spicy form. Herbal tea and paprika impart a green, vegetal warmth. It’s almost as if I’ve transitioned through winter and into early spring—or, in keeping with the Star Wars theme, away from the dark side. A new hope awaits as the seasons turn. The tonka in the base closes things out on a creamy, gentle note, as Aldebaran fades to ivory white.
Coincidentally, Bisch authored a celestial-themed tuberose for Crivelli last year, Tubéreuse Astrale. It doesn’t smell remotely like Aldebaran. And, even though it’s more approachable than other tuberose fragrances, including the Crivelli, Aldebaran won’t be as universally appealing as the brand’s other floral, Tilia. I guess that’s tuberose for you. It’s not for everyone. I, for instance, find tuberose more challenging to wear than other white florals like jasmine.
Also, Aldebaran doesn’t have the sweetness (Tilia) or loudness (Encelade) of other Barrois fragrances. Still, it gets a thumbs-up from me. It’s a compelling multi-dimensional tuberose (icy, creamy, green) with an interesting interplay between cool and warm notes. It is undoubtedly worthy of attention. The force continues to be strong with this brand!
Have you tried Aldebaran? What’s your tuberose go-to?
Note: Initial image from Marc-Antoine Barrois. All other photos are my own. I purchased the sample of Aldebaran.
I don’t have any tuberose growing, so here are more photos of my snowflake tree. Its look and colour match the biting icy quality of Aldebaran’s opening.
