Citrine starts with the transparent juice from canned peaches and mandarin slices, in a nice morning cocktail way, but then fades to powdery yellow flower pollen.
Benzoin at the bottom gets sticky and brings back some of the opening citrus, with the clear syrup from candied peel that bakers use–and I so wish this moment was longer and louder, there’s almost a Shalimar vibe for a second–but everything soon dries down to the Omnia sheer woods base.
Cotton holds the jasmine well, but on skin it’s all gone by noon. I’ll try it again in the summer. Maybe I’ll like it more.
Opens with a breath of citrus and wet green, but then gets cool and clear the way that all the Omnias do, this time with powdery iris that blooms for a hour, and heliotrope at the bottom that lasts all morning.
Some faint woods close to the skin give it a pretty solidity, like a crystal vase with a heavy base.
There’s an interesting fragile-but-strong vibe to it.
A wincing blast of Ruby Red pink grapefruit out of the bottle that dries down to really lovely peaches sweetened with frangipani.
The musk on the bottom has some heat, a peppery note with the sandalwood, but with hard edges.
It’s got nice facets, but kind of jumbled–and the middle notes that I love last less than 20 minutes on me.
Opens aquatic, sea-breeze shower fresh, with some transparent grapefruit-y citrus. Tropical sweetness ripens from underneath–passion flower and and passion fruit–but it’s glittery rather than juicy, with that faceted cut of all the Omnia line.
Settles comfortably into personal space for the afternoon, and leaves a woody residue on cuffs.
Fun fact: Brazilian Paraiba tourmalines get their gorgeous aquamarine color from copper.