A Gardener, two flowers
When something is good, it's good without any justifications, without additives. Medusa and Iris Doux are that good. And what is strange is that both come from a man whom is still experimenting with materials and compositions. He's on the right path. I like the way Eliam plays with the flowers' radiance, with their defying character, and animalic materials, using the latter as a complement rather than a contrast. Enter Medusa. An assault of blooming jasmine. No traces of green or delicacy, it goes straight into not overly funky mothballs and powdery roots with a menthol breath after a ration of blue-cheese. The civet adds a marvelous radiance to florals spreading a musky warmth around them, despite its cheesiness. There's phenolic and spicy traces of eugenol that mingle with the honeyed-sweet and balsamic nuances the benzoin has. Once the jasmine's rush is slowed down and the indols get rid of the funkiness, the fragrance turns into a hay-mossy leafy-herbal-old woo
