Sweet, spicy, and soft, with a warm base that evokes leather, the perfume suspends a host of intense and suggestive scents in an uneasy but beautiful balance, just as the blue hour of the perfume's name holds together, in a melancholy moment, the waning of day's hopes and the beginning of night's uncertainty. The almost confectionary sweetness of the perfume is balanced by the spice and sharpness of bergamot, clary sage, tarragon, and a very prominent clove bud note.
Perhaps I've read too much about this perfume, and the repeated references to melancholy and pre-war romanticism have tainted my ability to get my own impression, but L'Heure Bleue is a beautiful
perfume that I could never imagine myself wearing. I would feel oppressed by a fragrance that didn't let me reinvent it on myself. Like a ghost that haunts a house so that living in it is impossible for new inhabitants, L'Heure Bleue imposes on its wearer its melancholy story about a beautiful time right before much was lost.
To answer the ad's question: I am not her type. And she, alas, is not mine.
Top notes: Bergamot oil, Clary Sage oil, Coriander, Lemon, Neroli,
Heart notes: Clove Bud oil, Jasmin, Orchid, Rose de Mai, Ylang-Ylang
Base notes: Benzoin, Cedar, Musk, Sandal, Vanilla, Vetiver