I don’t have any violets growing in my backyard, but I do have some violet-coloured flowers. The picture below shows a torenia fournieri, also known as wishbone flowers, so named for their distinctive features. Their two curved stamens come together from opposite sides to form a shape like a tiny chicken wishbone. I find them so cheery, even though they lack fragrance. Equally jolly, and somewhat reminiscent of the wishbone flowers, are my pansies and violas. Throughout most of the summer, these varieties have thrived in my garden. I’ve never had much luck growing viola odorata, though. I’ll insert a few photos of my violet flowers in this post, as I think they pair well with today’s subject matter, Le Labo’s latest Violette 30.
I may enjoy my violet flowers, but when it comes to perfume, violet isn’t one of my favourite floral notes. In fact, it ranks near the bottom of my list of preferred perfumed plants. I particularly don’t enjoy violets when they become too powdery or too reminiscent of violet candies; they can become cloying. So, when I saw Le Labo was releasing a violet perfume, I just had to get my nose on it. Given Le Labo’s history, I anticipated Violette 30 wouldn’t contain the faintest whiff of violet. I was somewhat on the mark.
Violette 30 comes across as more of an iris-style fragrance. Of course, iris and violets share similar properties, and almost assuredly, Violette 30 features some violet materials. However, rather than becoming overly sweet and candied, Violette 30 maintains a streamlined, crisp profile. The bright aldehydes play a large part in the starchy, clean impression in the opening. I think of a freshly ironed shirt, laundered to within an inch of its life. It’s scrubbed and spotless.
Violette 30 stays clean for the most part. The floral component carries a waxy quality, which reinforces my belief that orris has been used alongside violet. However, it doesn’t turn too powdery. Rather, it evolves into a musky and woody fragrance, reminding me of a few familiar faces. When I first sprayed Violette 30, I immediately thought of Glossier You and Diptyque’s Fleur de Peau, both of which have musky-iris scent structures. The woody notes hark back to the quintessential, minimalist, papery-woody base found in Le Labo fragrances like Santal 33 and Gaiac 10.
Once the floral notes fade—perhaps a bit too quickly for my taste—I begin to detect a herbal tea note. I appreciate this aspect of the fragrance, as it gives it a point of difference from some of the previously referenced scents. However, I would have found it intriguing to monitor the interplay between the tea note and the florals had they linked. I feel like Violette 30 moves too swiftly through all its phases to the base, eventually petering out after only 3-4 hours.
Le Labo lovers will go out and test every new scent the brand produces. And while I’m always interested in what they’re doing, I’ve never come close to buying anything other than the odd new release sample. Violette 30 suffers a similar fate to a few of their recent offerings: once the homogeneous Le Labo base kicks in, it becomes a bit too thin and stark. There’s a sense of inevitability, and a feeling of having been there, done that. There’s no sign of the promised cumin, incense, or patchouli, or anything that might have added depth to the fragrance. Overall, it’s a nice enough scent, but I don’t see why someone would choose Violette 30 over the cheaper, muskier options on the market, or even any of their classic woody or tea fragrances.
Note: Bottle image from Le Labo. All other photos are my own. Sample purchased by me.
Here are a couple more photos.
