I don’t talk about Creed much on my blog. The hype around the house has seemingly dimmed over the years. I wonder if Gabe Oppenheim’s exposé on the brand has had any impact. There’s no doubt a million other brands would love to have an Aventus on their books, though. Their men’s line still attracts the attention of those new to the hobby. I’ve tried most of their big hits, the majority of which form part of their men’s range, but I haven’t delved too far into their women’s line. I recently received a sample of their new women’s fragrance, Eladaria, with an order.
The opening spray reveals quite a pretty rose. Initially, there’s a spring freshness to Eladaria, as it goes about its business with blue-skied optimism. The roses are pink, the grass is dewy, and the air feels crisp. But beneath the buoyant facade, Eladaria feels strangely familiar and somehow unremarkable. I shouldn’t be surprised; the notes couldn’t be any more generic. Ingredients like pink pepper, citrus, rose, vanilla, and musk don’t exactly shout unique.
Still, there’s a nice balance between the powdery cosmetic aspects and the freshness from the rose note. It’s not another Delina clone, thankfully. I position it closer to one of those pastel, mineralic MFK rose fragrances, À la Rose or L’eau À la Rose. And thanks to the Ambroxan in the base, Eladaria lasts and projects longer than most roses, possibly for too long. Indeed, you’re in for an all-day commitment once you spray. That may not be an issue for some, but it is for me.
I don’t want my perfumes to last for over 12-14 hours, especially those with linear evolutions. In music, one of the most popular, simple chord progressions is the 1,4,5. It’s the foundation of many hit songs: Eladaria, with its straightforward pyramid and progression, drones on like a 1,4,5 chord played ad nauseam for hours. On top of that, courtesy of the Ambroxan amplifier, Eladaria projects strongly for most of the day. Eladaria might not be a modern “Spinal Tap” scent with the volume up to 11, but it’s pervasive, and those around you will smell you. Ultimately, it’s too loud, too long, and I’m too old for such protracted perfume pacts.
To their credit, Creed tries to throw in a few inversions and extensions. There’s a lily of the valley accord that brings in a green tone, but it’s not enough. Eladaria eventually settles into a musky, mineralic finish akin to elevator music. I admit I can take Eladaria in small doses. Indeed, in fleeting encounters, it’s unlikely to offend, and perhaps something I might like on others, but if I had to spend hours in the company of the person blaring Eladaria, no thanks. Certainly, it’s not worth the price of admission.
Note: First image from Creed, all other photos are my own.