Fleur d’Iris Maitre Parfumeur et Gantier for women

There’s some iris in this EdT, mostly a dry, powdery, orris-like accord, but it’s fairly well muffled by other synthetic-smelling things that don’t even reflect the other flowers that are listed in the notes. I’m not sure what they are, but they do go away in due course, leaving an iris-violet scent that’s extremely strong for an EdT, so strong that it almost burns my nose. Oddly, the super-strength phase only lasts a couple of hours, fading to a rosy musk that lasts a couple more hours. In the beginning there’s too much sillage, in the end too little. There are so many outstanding iris scents out there that I can see no reason to choose MPG Fleur d’Iris.

Maitre Parfumeur et Gantier FLEUR D'IRIS is a very nice and, as far as I can tell, original rose perfume. Upon initial application, I was rather confused, since it did not really smell like iris. In fact, rose is the central floral note, and iris serves only as a complement. I do not smell much violet at all. Although violet often plays an important supporting role in iris compositions, here it is the rose and amber which prevail.

Yet there is iris, too, which seems like darker orris root rather than the flower itself. All in all, this is a pleasing combination, and I would recommend FLEUR D'IRIS not to iris but to rose lovers. Definitely worth sniffing, if you like rose, because this one is not like the others. Neither vintage-y and dry, nor fruity and sweet, nor rosebush in a blender, FLEUR D'IRIS is really unique, albeit misnamed.

It seems inevitable that iris should always find a partner in violet, which I'm starting to come to terms with - but to suffocate the flower that gives this perfume its name with honey-sweet rose is unforgivable. Not that the result is bad, mind you, just poorly named.

Eventually, when the blooming bouquet subsides, the powderiness of iris attempts to take center stage, but not without the greedy jasmine and all-eclipsing amber trying to shove it back behind the curtain. Throughout the show, the noticeable presence of the grassy/woody vetiver prevents this from being a purely floral affair, which to me is its saving grace.

And yet, for all this competition for the spotlight, none of the scents are strong enough to be detected beyond a couple of inches off the skin, and after an hour you have to breathe deeply with your nose in direct contact with your wrist to figure out if any smells are still there.

I have a hard time thinking of this fragrance in terms other than a comically disorganized short community play. It butchers the intent of the playwright, but the genuinely effortful execution nonetheless brings a smile to your face - and before you get tired of this farce, it is over. Unfortunately, the tickets for this show far from represent its quality (and length), in my opinion. For a bit more money, I would rather enjoy Frederic Malle's Iris Poudre, which seems like-minded in intent and far superior in delivering the scent of the promised flower.