Reviews of K de Krizia by Krizia
The bold and exuberant K de Krizia is a gem from Maurice Roucel's oeuvre, highlighting all that was de rigueur at the time of its release, done to perfection. Dizzying aldehydes? Check. Bitter, mean green florals? Check. Mounds of moss? You got it. And a soupçon of civet? Covered over it all like a decadent fondant. There's even peachy lactones, ripe fruit, and spices. It's a heavenly aroma that's like ambrosia and nectar to my nose.
For some reason I immediately imagined Grace Jones demanding her lover to "wear this! Or ELSE." It's that fierce and ferocious. Make no mistake though, it's absolutely beautiful. Unfortunately, it just wasn't made for these times, and this was discontinued after some less than forgiving reformulations. One may find something comparable in the realms of "niche" or "artisan" perfume today, but with someone like Roucel at the helm, it would be difficult to reproduce.
For some reason I immediately imagined Grace Jones demanding her lover to "wear this! Or ELSE." It's that fierce and ferocious. Make no mistake though, it's absolutely beautiful. Unfortunately, it just wasn't made for these times, and this was discontinued after some less than forgiving reformulations. One may find something comparable in the realms of "niche" or "artisan" perfume today, but with someone like Roucel at the helm, it would be difficult to reproduce.
This review is for the edt. "K" is a bitter, spicy floral chypre. I absolutely adore it. When I don't want to whack everyone over the head with my scent but still want to wear something I find interesting, "K" more than does the job. Nobody could be more Midwestern WASP than myself, but "K" makes me feel very Italian and exotic. Love this!
ADVERTISEMENT
Hail Maurice Roucel for this beauty! To my nose this is a gorgeous floral aldehyde chypre top with a smooth balsamic and resinous base. I've got several backups of this lovely. So much more wearable than some of the powerhouses of the era it was marketed in, too, so smooth and cuddly.
A great and grand floral chypre of the old school variety.
Rich, deep and fragrant - a real perfume.
How anachronistic that it came out of the 1980s. Barbara Herman rightly describes it as "lush."
Top notes: Peach, Hyacinth, Bergamot, Neroli
Heart notes: Jasmine, Narcissus, Tuberose, Rose, Muguet, Orris, Orchid, Carnation
Base notes: Sandalwood, Vetiver, Musk, Amber Moss, Civet, Vanilla, Styrax, Leather
One of the best. First Edit: Louis Scherrer II created five years later is a copy of K, and just as fine. A powdery green floral chypre.
Rich, deep and fragrant - a real perfume.
How anachronistic that it came out of the 1980s. Barbara Herman rightly describes it as "lush."
Top notes: Peach, Hyacinth, Bergamot, Neroli
Heart notes: Jasmine, Narcissus, Tuberose, Rose, Muguet, Orris, Orchid, Carnation
Base notes: Sandalwood, Vetiver, Musk, Amber Moss, Civet, Vanilla, Styrax, Leather
One of the best. First Edit: Louis Scherrer II created five years later is a copy of K, and just as fine. A powdery green floral chypre.
Wow. This is a dark and dramatic masterpiece. I am not good at identifying notes, but this is definitely a chypre of the Rochas Mystere order. My bottle is quite old so I did not smell many floral notes. It went straight to a Wagnerian forest!
This may become a favorite.
This may become a favorite.
Discovering a chypre from the early 1980s that you've never tried is dicey. While it's new to me, it's by no means a new perfume, and has lived, loved and likely been reformulated a number of times, probably fatally. Hand a new fumie a current bottle of Diorella, she'll sniff and then look at you and say, "This is the shit you've all been talking about?" And she'd be right to ask. The current stuff isn't anything to rave about, or really even discuss.
There's a whole generation of fumies for whom the the tragedy of reformulation means that their Miss Dior Chérie (or whatever it's called at this point) has been tampered with and their Badgely Mischka has been unceremoniously discontinued.
IFRA (International Fragrance Association) regulations diminish the perfumer's palette. However you come down on the ethics, evidence and outcomes of their restrictions, the IFRA hinders perfumers and has taken perfumes away from those who relish them.
I can't find information on how to date this particular perfume, but I believe I have a vintish K de Krizia. There's a bit of a dry fruit feeling upfront, and an appropriate amount of Amber in the far dry down, but all the way along this baby is a soaring floral chypre. What seem like aldehydes provide the lift off, but once at altitude it's the cold flowers that give buoyancy. I don't know the ratio of oakmoss to treemoss to [insert mossy analogue], and god only knows what has been done to modulate the other toxic aromachemicals like bergamot, labdanum, but my K de Krizia passes all the functional tests of a chypre. It's dry like a good martini, it's florals are buttery yet sharp in tone. It's like taking a long drag on a cigarette. Now THAT to me is a chypre.
K reminds me a bit of the mid-2000s Miss Dior. God knows how many variations of Miss Dior are out there, but the floral tone to the two is similar. K has less of the patchouli overdose, but in both perfumes the petals aren't so much dried as freeze dried. They bite back a bit when you sniff your wrists. Your gift at the end of the day of a wearing of K is a starched soapy climax that seems as thought it might be hissing at you.
There's a whole generation of fumies for whom the the tragedy of reformulation means that their Miss Dior Chérie (or whatever it's called at this point) has been tampered with and their Badgely Mischka has been unceremoniously discontinued.
IFRA (International Fragrance Association) regulations diminish the perfumer's palette. However you come down on the ethics, evidence and outcomes of their restrictions, the IFRA hinders perfumers and has taken perfumes away from those who relish them.
I can't find information on how to date this particular perfume, but I believe I have a vintish K de Krizia. There's a bit of a dry fruit feeling upfront, and an appropriate amount of Amber in the far dry down, but all the way along this baby is a soaring floral chypre. What seem like aldehydes provide the lift off, but once at altitude it's the cold flowers that give buoyancy. I don't know the ratio of oakmoss to treemoss to [insert mossy analogue], and god only knows what has been done to modulate the other toxic aromachemicals like bergamot, labdanum, but my K de Krizia passes all the functional tests of a chypre. It's dry like a good martini, it's florals are buttery yet sharp in tone. It's like taking a long drag on a cigarette. Now THAT to me is a chypre.
K reminds me a bit of the mid-2000s Miss Dior. God knows how many variations of Miss Dior are out there, but the floral tone to the two is similar. K has less of the patchouli overdose, but in both perfumes the petals aren't so much dried as freeze dried. They bite back a bit when you sniff your wrists. Your gift at the end of the day of a wearing of K is a starched soapy climax that seems as thought it might be hissing at you.
Genre: Chypre
This is a grand and glamorous rose-centered floral chypre scent that could easily have been crass and overbearing, but isn't, thanks largely to well-calculated structural balance and ingredients that smell of quality. Smelling K de Krizia, I'm reminded both of such floral chypre classics as 1000 and Acqua di Parma Profumo, and of the recent ambitious rose scents from Amouage (Lyric Woman) and Andy Tauer (Une Rose Chyprée). K de Krizia is less fruity-lactonic to my nose than the Patou and Acqua di Parma classics, and lacks the incense that distinguishes Lyric Woman and Une Rose Chyprée. This leaves it both drier and in some ways more transparent than any of these others.
I find this scent especially appealing in its drydown, which showcases bracingly bitter moss, smoky leather, and the merest dab of animalic warmth. Longevity is more than adequate for me at perhaps six hours, and the scent projects well but does not overwhelm the wearer. Once past the more aggressively floral top notes, I find a light application of K de Krizia fairly comfortable to wear as a man, and wonder that it doesn't receive more attention. For crying out loud, it's even a bargain!
This is a grand and glamorous rose-centered floral chypre scent that could easily have been crass and overbearing, but isn't, thanks largely to well-calculated structural balance and ingredients that smell of quality. Smelling K de Krizia, I'm reminded both of such floral chypre classics as 1000 and Acqua di Parma Profumo, and of the recent ambitious rose scents from Amouage (Lyric Woman) and Andy Tauer (Une Rose Chyprée). K de Krizia is less fruity-lactonic to my nose than the Patou and Acqua di Parma classics, and lacks the incense that distinguishes Lyric Woman and Une Rose Chyprée. This leaves it both drier and in some ways more transparent than any of these others.
I find this scent especially appealing in its drydown, which showcases bracingly bitter moss, smoky leather, and the merest dab of animalic warmth. Longevity is more than adequate for me at perhaps six hours, and the scent projects well but does not overwhelm the wearer. Once past the more aggressively floral top notes, I find a light application of K de Krizia fairly comfortable to wear as a man, and wonder that it doesn't receive more attention. For crying out loud, it's even a bargain!
Massive fruity/floral chypre that smells about uncompromising animalic and aldehydic classicism. Bold and almost forbidding. Yes, an aldehydic bomb exuding at the first blast an aggressive burst of aldehydes, bergamot, spicy orange and mustiness. I soon detect the peach-apricot accord floating over a dense mossy/animalic pond full of civet, leather, musk/oakmoss, sweet spices, balsams, amber/styrax and seasoned woods. The central stage is fruty/floral (a lot of orange, ripe fruits and rose-jasmine) in a sort of musty and ripe way. There is a sort of smokey/waxy vibe in the final soapiness, something conjuring me cozy brown (faintly enlightened) rooms endowed of bar corner, heavy tents, gross frames pictures and confortable sofà. Refined and evocative, a typical distinguished aunt's aroma.
Another great 80s perfume that you can't find anymore. I remember when every single lady had a bottle of this on her dresser (myself included).
I didn't get much of the floral group, but instead it went straight to the sandalwood, vetiver, ect. I was suprised to find this had civet, which usually turns nasty on me in a hurry. Although it has been at least 10 years since I have seen it, I can still remember the warm and woodsy smell. Makes me think of really nice cashmere.
I didn't get much of the floral group, but instead it went straight to the sandalwood, vetiver, ect. I was suprised to find this had civet, which usually turns nasty on me in a hurry. Although it has been at least 10 years since I have seen it, I can still remember the warm and woodsy smell. Makes me think of really nice cashmere.
Ahhh, 1981 must have been a fabulous year for fragrance! I remember walking through the The Bay on my lunch hour, newly arrived in Calgary with student loans, a car loan, a moving loan and completely unable to buy my beloved K de Krizia or my absolute favorite Must de Cartier, so broke and so in love with these beauties that I had to settle for spraying them on as I passed wistfully by the fragrance counter. Both had lovely, rich, mellow animalic drydowns (in my memory). Now that I can afford them, I can't find K de Krizia and apparently Must has been butchered, but I may still spring for the pure parfum as I've read it's still most representative of the original. If you can find K de Krizia and you love a lovely chypre with a hint of the animal, do try it.
My Auntie Marie made a perfumista out of me at an early age. Marie worked the fragrance counter at a large Chicago department store. When she came to visit she would bring a suitcase loaded down with bottles of perfume for my mother and myself. I so looked forward to her coming to stay.
On one very memorable visit she brought me a bottle of K de Krizia. I had never smelled anything like it before. I didn't know anything of perfume classifications and of course didn't have any idea I had just fallen in love with a chypre. But that started me on a life long obsession.
Thank you, Auntie Marie!
On one very memorable visit she brought me a bottle of K de Krizia. I had never smelled anything like it before. I didn't know anything of perfume classifications and of course didn't have any idea I had just fallen in love with a chypre. But that started me on a life long obsession.
Thank you, Auntie Marie!
Recently I embarked on a Great White Hunt for a fragrance that would suit my mother, who is in her mid 50s, and forever lamenting the discontinuation of the original Fendi. It was an odd journey, as I seemed to forget altogether what my mother actually liked about Fendi - its bitter, dry, leathery, butch qualities, so of the '80s, powerful and unique. I dawdled around, poking at supposed masterpieces like Arpège, Tommy Girl, Beyond Paradise, L'Air du Temps, and Fleur de The Rose Bulgare. Eventually, the folly of it dawned on me, and I knew I had to get technical, not tacky. I had to relocate the classic chypre that Foetidus so aptly names. I needed something that is all aldehydic on top, with dark civet and styrax and unsweetened roses. Something that could start with an utterly dessicated citrus and white floral explosion that smoothly transitions, like a lipstick chameleon, into a smoky mystery. A fragrance so in line with Fendi that one could view it as the scent that inspired the House of Fendi to create their ephemeral "Donna". I needed a serious, classy, and age-appropriate masterpiece.
I needed K de Krizia.
I needed K de Krizia.
K de Krizia EDT is Classic Chypre with two Capital Cs. In a sense, it's hard to beat these massively noted mega-component creations that dominated the 80s I've never smelled one that I didn't like. To me, the civet, styrax, moss, and leather of the base dominate K de Krizia by establishing that super smooth, very dry, warm, suedish chypre background for the total run of the scent. The amber is there but not dominant, and I don't smell the vanilla. At the top, I can't separate out the peach note that is supposed to be in there, but there is a tiny bit of a non floral sweetness there. The florals of the top and middle are strongly present, but do not overcome the denser, darker notes of the base. With the florals, also, I can't separate out individual notes, but rather sense them as amassed, smooth, non-flowery texture. I do not necessarily consider this fragrance feminine in itself except that its type is so indicative of an 80s feminine floral chypre, so I guess I should call it feminine. It's a fragrance that doesn't really call attention to itself except for its pleasantness and softness. Not exciting, but it speaks subconsciously. With heavy application, it speaks volumes. It's a scent that I don't think I would ever tire of.
Love, love, love it! A very dignified Spanish woman who worked at my office (international banker) used to walk by and I would just breathe in....I finally asked her, "what are you wearing?!?" and she told me Krizia. Well, being in Manhattan, I hopped across the street and purchased it. Warm, delicious, amber, vanilla, rose and sandalwood ... who could ask for more? Use it sparingly in cooler months and it won 't be overbearing. Here's some more info: "Top Notes: Aldehydes, peach, hyacinth, bergamot, neroli. Heart Notes: Jasmine, narcissus, orange blossom, rose, carnation, orchid, lily of the valley, orris. Base Notes: Sandalwood, vetiver, musk, amber, moss, civet, vanilla, styrax, leather."
K de Krizia is deep with an abundance of moss. The lighter floral topnotes succomb to the moss and amber...leaving a very dry somewhat powdery feeling. Slight traces of vanilla are detectable in this mix. I might also call it a warm fragrance. It is unique, though I prefer to admire it from afar as it's tonality doesn't represent "me".
