Hermèssence Osmanthe Yunnan
Hermès (2005)

Osmanthe Yunnan is a shape-shifting beauty, just like osmanthus and much like Yunnan as well. This perfume has been a treasure of my collection for nearly a decade and a half, and it's only recently that I finally have some thoughts written about it that I am happy with. Perhaps because it and I are finally at a stage in our relationship where its shape-shifting no longer catches me off guard, I know what it's capable of, and I look forward to seeing what side of its personality I will get this time - as opposed to scratching my head and wondering "where the heck did that come from?"

First thing to note is that you cannot experience Osmanthe Yunnan on a blotter. It's never worked on a blotter, it only works on skin. Perhaps that's why the YouTube and online forum fame-sters, glad-handers, and wannabes are impartial to it, vague, or generally just ignore it. It requires time, patience, and attention in ample amounts - something we humans are very unwilling to supply these days. After several attempts on blotters, I've resigned myself to accounting for OY based upon on-skin experience only, and that's fine and as it should be; having a secondary method is an intellectual convenience, but it's not how perfumes are meant to be experienced. Secondly, OY will shape shift its character depending upon how much you spray whereas most perfumes will shift their vocal volumes a lot more than their character (if at all). OY seems to know if that if you spray a little, you want quiet accompaniment like a shadow, spray a lot and you want a partner with a clear personality.

These two factors are noticeable from the get-go with a striking tea accord. Spray a little and you'll simply get a faint aldehydic volatility, almost like alcohol evaporation; spray a lot, you'll get a tangible feeling of steam rising up from a fresh brew of woody and rooty tea. Jean-Claude Ellena is no stranger to tea notes. He gave us the OG after all, Bulgari's Au Thé Vert, the tea perfume to launch perfumery into a tea-hunting frenzy that continues to this day (and still hasn't been truly olfactorily captured). ATV was launched in 1993, and OY in 2005. Twelve years seems like a long time, but all of the Hermessence perfumes were launched from 2004 to 2005, and, despite JCE's incredible skills, there's no way he did 12+ perfumes in two years - especially not Hermes' exclusive line. No matter how much Hermes want their perfumes developed quickly from a cost perspective, they wouldn't let JCE rush through their exclusive line, they would want the perfumes to be properly composed and made to stick around and buck trends. Therefore, work on OY likely started a long time prior to its release, and perfumers are not opposed to using old tricks in new perfumes. There are some vague but highly familiar characters in OY's tea notes. This also seems to be where it loses a lot people who smell it. The steam is palpable, the tea is bitter and woody and rooty. To some it smells like perfume alcohols off gassing. I get tea (when I apply the perfume thickly), and to me its striking and intellectually curious. Even when thickly applied, Ellena's signature style is still immutable: lightweight, airy and breathable, a palpable mist hovering over your skin.

When the tea dries down a very light freesia aroma on the breeze makes an appearance juxtaposed right next to a leather note. The freesia is minutely sweet, floral, and fruity, and the leather is weird. The leather has a strange, oily, rind zest type quality that is somehow devoid of any citrusy aspects, and there is only the slightest hint of the smoky element that comes from cured animal hides and tanning, almost illusory. Relatively speaking to the rest of perfume's notes, this leather note is dense and fleshy - like a citrus rind - but it never dominates or growls like an animalic leather. In light applications the freesia and leather aren't juxtaposed, rather present as one form like the aroma of someone's new suede jacket as they walk by you. In the perfume's final dry down we are given beautifully smooth, fruity, and sweet apricot and clean soapy musks; spotless, legible, feathery, and just plain pretty.

Over the years I've used two perfumes as reference points for every osmanthus perfume I've smelled, The Different Company's Osmanthus, and Osmanthe Yunnan. The Different Company's perfume is osmanthus in a naturalistic state, with each facet of its complex personality dialed up to the same vocal volumes on a level stage; DC's is a literal representation of osmanthus. Osmanthe Yunnan is naturalistic, sure, but not enough to be called so. OY is the spirit of osmanthus, connecting this beloved East Asian flower to the mystical persona of Yunnan: an expertly brewed cup of tea to warm the body and stimulate the mind; the scent of a flower on the breeze as you look upon a temple, and the smell of leather - the human touch in this mystical landscape; fruit and cleanliness, life-sustaining gifts from nature and a cleansed soul. Both The Different Company's Osmanthus and Osmanthe Yunnan were composed by Jean-Claude Ellena. He did DC's in 2000. Funny, that.

It is challenging for me to write about Osmanthe Yunnan, because it is always simultaneously more and less than what I expect it to be. The first eight sprays – the minimum required to kickstart this famously ephemeral thing into gear – never fail to surprise me with the milky-boozy lusciousness of its apricot note. But spray any less, and the impression is of something far drier and brighter, like a translucent piece of peach leather held up to the light. Like Xanax, you need to fiddle around with the dosage to get it right.

Osmanthe Yunnan is, in a way, victim of its own press. While it is true that the central osmanthus-peach-tea accord is gently lactonic and smoky, it is never quite as milky or as smoky as its mythology makes it out to be. On the skin, there’s a thin, leathery sourness that is interesting, but almost never discussed. Osmanthe Yunnan is more about the tannins in suede and tea and fruit skin than it is about milk or smoke. Which is something I forget about entirely the next time my eyes alight on the bottle (“Ah, Osmanthe Yunnan! What an excellent milky, smoky thing you are!”).

Those facets are there, of course, but because they are drawing on subtler stuff like peach lactones or the hint of smoke lingering from the tea roasting process, they lie quietly just under the surface of the scent, causing barely a ripple. I suppose this is the point of the whole exercise – refinement, minimalism, the miles-deep cream carpet of luxury. Ellena didn’t need to call in the shouty, muscle-flexing chemical bonfire material pumped into By the Fireplace (Maison Martin Margiela), nor does he go for the smoked-ham pungency of the lapsang souchong Co2 used in Jeke (Slumberhouse). The smoke and milk are mere suggestions. Possibly even a figment of my overactive imagination. I love it, but for some reason, it plays out much better in my head than on my skin.

The pellucid beauty of Osmanthe Yunnan may elude those who favor bravado to that of nuance in their fragrance. The notes of osmanthus and tea, by their very nature, cannot be bold and highly diffusive. I truly believe any perfumer worth their grain of salt knows that any attempt to give either muscle would collapse the limpid beauty of each, rendering them into something harsh or even grotesque, or, depending upon opposing forces, buried and indiscernible.

Be that as it may, Ellena's creation here is full of presence, and his minimalism works to his benefit here. The osmanthus uses the natural absolute with other materials to broaden and exalt the accord, and the tea is a natural pairing—I do love to sip osmanthus tea, with its bittersweet, floral, apricot flavor. There are citrus and herbal facets that come through as well, and hints of that smoky undertone that we come to expect from black tea.

I also praise Ellena's restraint with the leather as this transitions into the heart, seamlessly, appearing to use Suederal or something similar in a way that I can appreciate, nuanced and clear. This is a perfect fragrance for a space of reflection or introspection. Apply some of this, write in a journal, read some poetry, or just let your mind meander. If worn for others, having intimate company and your willingness for others to lean in will result in others potentially appreciating it as well.

I don't understand. I grow osmanthus in my garden; the scent of the flowers (which bloom in cold weather here) is both tropically luscious and fresh. I was hoping for the same from this perfume, but what I get is a weird cleaning-fluid-like overtone that doesn't fade at all.

It also happens that my favorite black tea is from Yunnan province. The perfume doesn't smell like that, either.

Strong, fruity tea. Muddled, yet pleasant, flowers in the background. Brief, 4.5 hours on my skin. Hardly any sillage. Neutral rating, because of its fleeting wear.

I expected more of an apricot flair...

I love osmanthus, and this is one of the best. It's elegant and not too sweet, while still get the essence of the real flower.

Since osmanthus is an autumn flower, I always apply this in autumn, but recently I realized it projects better in warm weather. So this is going to be my late summer fragrance.