Ganymede
Marc-Antoine Barrois (2019)

Like Black Tourmaline with a bunch of extra stuff…

Zingy metal and a fruity salad. A leathery dadaist composition. Pretty unique!

In the boutique (a tiny impossibly elegant storefront in the Passage Véro-Dodat in the first arrondissement in Paris, next to the Jimmy Choo and around the corner from Pierre Guillaume), I loved each of the Barrois scents, but then the samples at home have given me pause. Ganymede has an overwhelmingly thick saffron smell for me; something in it to my nose recalls Japanese cooking, and the salesperson said it is extremely popular with Japanese clients. It is a remarkably elegant scent, and I want to wear it and enjoy it, but until it reaches the drydown, I would prefer to just smell it in the world than on my skin. Ganymède is closely related to another scent, B683. Both are inspired by St. Exupéry and the Little Prince. (Like how many other perfumes, including Guerlain Vol de Nuit?...) Quentin Bisch worked with Marc-Antoine Barrois on the Barrois line, and Ganymede is named after a planet in the Little Prince, whereas B683, is inspired by "the asteroid of the Little Prince by Saint Exupery and by the birth date of the couturier who made it his own imaginary planet." https://www.marcantoinebarrois.com/perfumes/?lang=en . So they are both meant as "fragments of universes belonging to the same galaxy and telling in wakes the inspirations of an artistic encounter between two young creators." Ganymede eases up on the saffron with time (phew), and the mandarin and violet begin to peek out. Interestingly, B683, which begins on a more palatable note given its vanilla, patchouli, and sandalwood, ends up being a little rougher and darker than the gradually sweeter Ganymede. I kind of like wearing these two conceptual, saffron-based "fragments of planets" side by side; there is a lot to sniff here, and they are complementary. Definitely worth starting with the sample kit and wearing for a day. At first I thought they were too "masculine" for me, but after an hour, it's just a fascinating, hard to place field of scent. Thumbs up.

I can understand the hype surrounding Ganymede. It truly stands out in the realm of designer woody ambers and harsh synthetic incenses employed by other brands. The fragrance offers a distinctive mineralic and airy ozonic quality, complemented by violet leaves that contribute to a refreshing watery effect. The soft suede accord, combined with musk and a subtle touch of sweetness from saffron, adds depth and complexity. Ganymede doesn't bear any resemblance to H24 or other mineralic scents; it adeptly blends all the notes. It seems to rely heavily on synthetics, which might limit the presence of natural smells. This versatile fragrance could serve as a year-round signature scent. However, its polarizing nature, akin to BR540, might generate varying opinions—some may perceive it as subtle or even unnoticeable, while others may passionately rave about it. It's advisable to sample it first to determine your personal preference.

I actually smelled Bois Imperial before Ganymede, so my review is based on comparing the two scents. I understand that Ganymede was first and done by the same perfumer, Quentin Bisch, so it's not a surprise that these two are related.

To keep it brief, Ganymede and Bois Imperial smell very similar (sharp, dry, metallic, minerals), to the point of being hard to tell apart for me. The difference I noticed while wearing was that Ganymede wasn't as loud or piercing. On me, Ganymede is the smoother, more wearable of the two and better in tight quarters like a work environment. However, if you want to get noticed for your scent, good or bad, Bois Imperial should stand out more in a crowd.

All that being said, Ganymede is a solid performer and should last and project for most of the day.

Holy Suederal and Safraleine, Batman. I can definitely see where Ganymede has its appeal, but its opening feels like an assault, as in overdose of either or both of these illicits the same response in my neuroreceptors as my misophonia when I hear the smacking lips of open mouth chewing cereal eater. Be that as it may, I get it, I understand why this works for many.

After the first few minutes, it grows more tolerable, and this leather interior meets flint spark texture along with this oddly-cucumber-dipped-in-petrol back note. The dry down feels somewhat less alien, if not unrelentingly artificial. I find this nice, interesting even, but there's something so distant about its feel that I find zero interest in ever wearing it again. I do commend Quentin Bisch for pushing this into a new frontier, but I just don't think its one where I feel welcome.