Eden
Cacharel (1994)

As splendid as Anne Flipo's composition for Frederic Malle may be, and it's quite lovely, the true "Synthetic Jungle" for me is that of Cacharel Eden, Jean Guichard's surreal and polarizing creation that pushes the boundaries of where a perfume can go, blurring the lines between natural and artificial. It begs the question of what makes something synthetic seem natural, and vice versa, with the concept of ethereal water lily as its starting point, radiating outwards into the realm of hyper-verdant, unfathomably lush leaves and oblique aquatic accents. What does stand out to me is a black locust note: the pendulous, clustered flowers of the tree Robinia pseudoacacia.

This tree flowers in late spring, with its inflorescences similar in appearance to that of wisteria or laburnum, with a creamy white color and an intoxicating fragrance that is similar to sweet pea, jasmine, orange blossom, and a high methyl anthranilate content that reminds one of ripe concord grapes. I absolutely love their scent, though the tree itself propagates like a menace and can be invasive in some areas. They grow FAST and spread FAST, treacherously thorny and difficult to remove. But their flowers as they blossom for just two short weeks: divine. Anyhow, five minutes Eden recalls them and just the overall feel of approaching humidity during their blooming period.

Beyond that, there is this peculiar wavering between the smell of true, fleshy, over ripened plants and fruits and plastic office plants: yes, plastic. True foliage mingled with plastic, and I love it. At one stage, it's as if all the foliage and fruit, real and artificial, is soaked with rain. Then what comes to mind is that of sun-warmed bamboo, sliced aloe vera, milky exudates from rogue vegetation, fermented roses and decaying mimosa, artificially-flavored pineapple candy, the wrappers of Now and Later or Starburst, even the smell of jackfruit. Yet, throughout all of this, there is a certain elegance surrounding Eden, it feels at once baroque and futuristic. It interrogates the wearer on what fulfills and also chills them. What warms them but also has them pondering connectedness (or disconnectedness) with their surroundings.

When Eden recedes, it does so in a poetic way, with each strange plastic, dayglo-green leaf and curious drunken fruit slowly crossfading into another realm, that of sandalwood and patchouli, glimmers of the bittersweet and post-rapture (!) clarity, still treading between "is it live?" or "is it Memorex?" Real sandalwood? Of course not! Real patchouli? Surely it is. Or is it? Or is any of it real? Does it even matter? That's the brilliance of this strange and wholly satisfying creation with an acquired taste.

A finicky plastic jungle madness, this is a bonkers masterpiece of weird from a different age. So far behind in time it seems almost like it comes from a point in the future we haven't got to yet. Love it, would never wear it.

Plastic, candle wax, and melon rind. Old lawn clippings and a weird smell like hot electrical wire. This is a strange one. I give it kudos for being unique, affordable, GREEN and still here, unlike many of the other great green florals. I love green florals. I should have adored Envy, but, sadly, no. I can see that this might be best in cool rainy weather, and that it is easily a love it or hate it 'fume. I give it a neutral for being bold, unique, and great on some people.

Eden smells like a beautiful green garden full of exotic flowers in the spring. A divine, mystical garden, with a burning incense container. It's very strong but not "suffocating".

I purchased Eden last fall, thinking I would like it. I just couldn't figure this fragrance out: it's strange, I'll certainly give it that, but I couldn't associate anything garden-like, or natural, with it's composition. I realized I was taking the whole garden theme to literally, and so I let fantasy be the interpreter for what I was smelling. Eden is all fantasy. Even the ads for it evokes fantasy: Vibrantly colored, and a bit hallucinatory.

As much as I try to appreciate Eden, I just can't seem to wear it. It's too much. I've tried spraying and walking through, as well as dabbing it on, and nothing seems to help with reeling it in a bit. It's ALL Eden, or nothing....no matter what.

This is not subtle!

It is so many things to so many reviewers, but the one thing it is not is subtle.

Old-fashioned strong and long-lasting (the Lutens type of strength), this is for me a sweet, cold, minty green, fruity floral. That's its problem, it tries to be too many things at once.

It is original. I will give it that. Barbara Herman thought it a "big gourmand oriental." She noted a sour plastic herbal note that for her predominated. I do not find this note, lucky for me.

I put this in the scent type usually referred derogatorily as "old lady," over-powering, sweet, floral onslaught - "you can smell her from the lobby when she's still in her taxi at the curb."

Herman's note file is different from Basenotes:

Top: Bergamot, Lemon, Mandarin, Peach, Tarragon, Neroli
Middle: Tuberose, Jasmine, Muguet, Rose, Ylang Ylang, Orris
Base: Cedar, Patchouli, Sandalwood, Musk, Moss, Vanilla, Tonka, Amber

Turin called it "wet cashmere" and gave it 4 stars, typing it as "sweet green."

The thing I like most about it is the minty green coldness of it. It's refreshing on a hot day, but a little bit goes a long way, as you can well imagine.

I can't give it a thumbs up, because it is just too overdone for my tastes, but it is certainly well done for its type of sweet over the top floral melange.