I had not one, but two samples of Brûlure de Rose in my box and not only since yesterday, they were in there for quite some time already, but never moved me enough to actually try them. Shame on me!
Thankfully my success with Tonkamande and Praliné de Santal, the two latest limited edition releases, propelled me into full PG mode and Brûlure de Rose got to see the light. And so did I.
It is meant to showcase the lifetime of a rose from freshest young bud to mature, almost wilting full bloom. This means a big evolution is going on, the perfume develops across quite a spectrum, and it does so beautifully. Like two, or three perfumes in one, Brûlure de Rose impresses me with its tender beauty in every stage.
What also got me thinking was the name of this perfume. Brûlure means burn, scald, burn mark. I found no other reference to it. Why did PG equate the natural (d)evolvement of a rose with its being burned? Burned by the sun? Is the natural cycle of life an injury? Or is something important lost in translation for me? French people, please speak up!
The beginning is fresh, green and rosy, the image of a tightly closed, dew-drenched rose bud in bright sunshine comes to mind, slowly it becomes sweeter, less tart, the rose note gains strength and the darker undertones become apparent.
This is no happy perfume, it has the rose including its shadow right there, but it is comforting and incredibly tender throughout. The notes make this sound like a dessert, but it is far from it. I’m no big fan of gourmands, but PG does them wonderfully. The drydown is a soft, sweet, plushly bedded rose with strong vanilla and musk accents.
During its life-time of the skin of about four hours, Brûlure de Rose gets progressively darker, sweeter and softer. The aging and maturing is done very well and – like life – it is bitter sweet (in feel, not smell this time 😉 ).
Brûlure de Rose is very feminine, it makes me feel delicate and light, weightless. I am reminded of my days as a ballerina (I danced throughout my childhood), the pink color of tutus, the elegance, the seeming airiness and lightness, but the darker underbelly of sweat and pain never far away.
Brûlure de Rose always smiles, even if the smile not always reaches her eyes.