Le Feu d'Issey
Issey Miyake (1998)

Jack went into his lab one day and threw a stone into his pot.
As he was heating it up, a flavourist walked in to see what he was doing.
I'm making Stone Soup said Jack.
What does it taste of?
Just stone. It's a bit boring, what do you think I should add to it?
I've got Vitamin B and some Nesquik in my cupboard, I'll go and get them.
Then the florist came in and said
What are you brewing Jack?
Stone soup, but it tastes a bit dry.
I've just changed the board room display said the florist,
here, you can have these tired flowers, I was only going to put them on the compost...
So in the flowers went.
Just when she did that the maintenance man walked in.
I hear you're making stone soup, Jack.
Yes, that's right, but it's a bit too sweet.
Oh, I've got a plank of mahogany here.
Perfect!
Then the cook arrived.
Jack, do you want this crème caramel for your soup?
As she threw it in, her amber bracelet slipped off her wrist and into the pot.
Oh well she sighed, never mind...
And then, as the soup bubbled and boiled, Jack took the pot - emptied it into his still and banged the lid shut.
Now, out you go everyone, I have an important guest for dinner.

totally original scent. effervescent, fresh and zesty but not the boring generic citrusy way. also, very different than the eau d issey which has way less charisma. r'there was nothing like thata available where i live, and i find it sad it is gone.

When I think of Issey Miyake, I think of the grim calone-driven horrors you find in department stores. So when a friend sent me a sample of this, I was a bit taken aback as to why he thought I'd be interested in smelling it. This couldn't be further removed from the kind of scents Miyake puts out today. Although I don't personally like the smell, per se, it's a brilliant composition with what I swear is the most generous dose of sandalwood I've smelled from a mainstream release.

It opens with a orange-peel rose infused with a bizarre herbal accord. Underneath is a rich, milky sandalwood and cedar. The combination of all those main notes is both jarring and yet somehow perfect. It strikes a meticulous balance–and one that stays suspended for its entire lifespan. But as the fruity / rose opening eventually fades, what remains is a milky wood with just enough of a trace of the opening to serve as a reminder. It lasts a really long time as well.

Even though it's not quite right for me personally (there's something a little vomity about fruit and milk up top that reminds me of Vraie Blonde), this is a wildly original scent that's overflowing with comfort once it gets to the base. I'm shocked by how much sandalwood is in this scent – it's positively booming. Le Feu d'Issey is so unique and perfectly rendered that I can't help but wonder what went wrong with the brand that they ditched this and kept the ghastly windex that currently haunts the scent wall of low-end department stores. If fruity, rosy, creamy scents are your thing, this is one of the best I've smelled in that style.

I despair for the human nose and for the reviewers on this page.

Le Feu is a vile, vulgar, putrid scent - one of the worst I've ever encountered. Redolent of that horrid Guaic Wood and Anise.

It is a sharp, green, herbaceous mess - one of the few I've run to the bathroom to scrub off.

Top notes: Bergamot, Coconut, Rosewood, Anise
Middle notes: Jasmine, Rose, Milk , Caramel
Base notes: Cedar, Sandwalwood, Guiac Wood, Vanilla, Musk

LT must be nuts giving this horrid thing 5 stars and calling if a milky rose. There's no milk, no rose, the ingredients list must be a joke, since most of these would give a softening effect, but don't.

I am so glad this had been discontinued. It should never have been born in the first place.

Genre: Bender

Alternate Notes:

Bergamot, coconut, rosewood, anise, jasmine, rose, milk, caramel, cedar, sandalwood, vanilla, musk. (OsMoz.com)

or

Bergamot, coriander, pepper, rose, tuberose, lily of the valley, carnation, cedar, guaiac wood, amber. (Pere de Pierre)

Some extinct perfume legends turn out to be disappointing on acquaintance, but the much touted, much lamented Le Feu d'Issey delivers the goods. The by-now-famous yeasty “warm bread” note is evident right from the start. At first the most clearly recognizable accompanying notes are a strong toasted coriander seed and a pungent, dry herbal bouquet. All are supported by a smoky wood accord that approaches Bertrand Duchaufour's Timbuktu and Dzongkha in mood, and which may likewise contain a heavy dose of cypriol. In fact, in retrospect I find it hard to imagine that Duchaufour did not have Le Feu d'Issey somewhere on his mind when he composed Timbuktu and Dzongkha. The Miyake makes no obvious use of incense, but as fish fins to amphibian legs, its austere, dry, smoky, wood skeleton feels like the evolutionary platform upon which the later scents were built.

Moreover, just as Timbuktu and Dzongkha turn surprisingly toward florals in the course of their development, so too does Le Feu d'Issey. Where Timbuktu would employ karo karounde blossom and Dzongkha peony and iris root, Le Feu d'Issey (perhaps even more daringly,) uses tuberose. In such spare, dry surrounds, tuberose takes on a startlingly novel character, shedding all traces of heady tropical languor in exchange for a medicinal air that no other perfume I know has yet revealed. As the tuberose comes into focus the smoky woody backdrop sharpens and intensifies, as if to compensate for any indulgent floral sweetness with pepper and cedar. Indeed, it's only in the tuberose's wake, and well into the drydown, that any trace of conventional oriental vanilla or balsamic sweetness emerges. What remains of Le Feu d'Issey after several hours is a warm, soft skin scent of vanilla-seasoned sandalwood, light amber, and musk.

While it's convention to mourn Le Feu d'Issey as a brilliant one-off gesture, a masterpiece that left no progeny, and an evolutionary dead end, I believe it does in fact have a significant legacy. Besides Duchaufour's dry incense compositions – Bois d'Ombrie and Sienne l'Hiver alongside Timbuktu and Dzongkha – there are the equally dry and smoky vetivers, including Encre Noire, and Sycomore. In my estimation all of these may owe Le Feu d'Issey for their mood, if not their actual contents.

Opens with a gorgeously sharp, peppery rose similar to Rossy de Palma by L'Etat de Libre d"Orange or Noorolain Taif by Thameen which are the only two fragrances I have smelled recently that come close. After the rose came the pepper, mango fruity smell. Men stopped me in the street to ask what it was. At the time a unique scent. The light version is horrible, like sweet plastic and absolutely nothing like the original, very milky and sickly.