Métal
Rabanne (1979)

The hyacinths bloom this time of year in the Northern Hemisphere. They come in white, purple, indigo, pink, even cream color. They all have a hypnotic spiced, damp greenness, like a cupid's arrow through the heart, dizzying and rapturous. Metal begins with hyacinths all aglow, penetrating the senses and awakening the soul. Delirious aldehydes, showy bell-shaped petals, a kaleidoscope of colors, with the negative space colored in green like newborn foliage. These first twenty minutes of Metal are breathtaking. And then it takes a turn—for the better.

Its cornucopia of fecund flowers, lilies of the valley, all manners of white flowers, rose, the whole shebang, renders, a yes, here we go—a metallic quality. Metal only really gets its smell from the reaction to our perspiration and skin oils, which makes me think of the perspiration of all these blooms, their condensation, distilled here, so that it smells larger than life itself. The smell of metal is a matter of perception, green gone full throttle, gilded lilies, silver roses, stamens made of copper filament.

Metal is radiance, right down its last gasp of moss and vetiver. It's a "hope springs eternal" fragrance, with a cool, collected optimism. It's a compact composition with a sonority seldom felt in contemporary fragrances. It takes the right temperament to fully appreciate it, but if it's there, it's heaven on earth.

Métal (1979) is very, very beautiful and very hard to describe, especially since it is one of the best examples of a genre that is so out of style right now that Métal might very well seem like an untenable composition to lovers of warm and syrupy perfumes. Métal is sharp and icy, cleaner and less elaborate than Scherrer by Scherrer and, if you can accept this, not as warm and plush as vintage No. 19 EDT. (Did I just say the Great Wire Mother (vide Turin and Sanchez) was warm and fuzzy? Yes, I did. It's all relative.)

Métal is a silver green, angular perfume that doesn't ever become soapy, shampooey, powdery, or, praise be, aquatic. I believe its effect relies on the mineral bite of galbanum, lily of the valley (hydrocitronnel), damscones (roses dissected into their coolest and most leafy facets) and hedione, but I am just guessing here. Metal is a synthesized chypre that suggests many possible natural components...bergamot, rose, LOTV, hyacinth, jasmine..without allowing any fruit or flower note to stand out distinctly. Its little-known perfumer, Robert Gonnon of Firmenich, knew exactly what he was doing.

The Fragrantica description that suggests Métal is a "sweet, girly accessory" is wildly misleading. Métal is stone cold sober, an abstract perfume that is wearable anywhere, by anyone. I have used up a parfum mini, and I didn't perceive much of a benefit to the parfum, so I wear the EDT of Métal, quite often, with great enjoyment. There's a lighter Eau de Métal that I haven't tried yet, but perhaps I should.

In reply to Jack Twist, I believe the name came from the designer dress covered in metal sequin, that the perfume was supposed to match. I think it is held in high regard by perfumers today.

Lovely,dry,fresh green and aldehydes at the outset then a burst of Lily of the Valley and Hyacinth followed by mossy woody drydown.Like Givenchy III's younger and less sophisticated sister. Agree with other reviewers,very underrated.

I blind-bought not one, but two, bottles of this on the recommendation of several BNers and I've not been at all disappointed. On my skin, it opens clean and fresh with lily-of-the-valley backed by a little hyacinth. It dries down through a pleasantly soapy phase to a lovely bone-dry, clean, sharp green. It projects well at the opening, drying down much closer to skin. Mine's still detectable after 8 hours, which is great performance for an EDT.
I find LotV and hyacinth to be particularly evocative of the 70s, but that doesn't date this fragrance in the slightest. It's cool without being cold, aloof without being unapproachable and is a fantastic summer scent. The bottle is a perfect representation of its contents - cool, independent and smart, with sharp edges.
Gets 4.5/5 from me, for what it's worth.

Barbara Herman calls this a "joyous, light green floral, cool without being cold."

I wouldn't call it exactly joyous; it certainly is light, almost a non-scent, with its crisp herbal floral heart (basil, cyclamen, jasmine) and its powdery orris background.

Turin gives it four stars and calls it a "green floral," which impresses him with an "oily green note in the dry down."

A green herbal/floral it is, light and airy, with an unfortunate name. Where did they come up with this off-putting moniker?

Top notes: Citrus, Basil, Hyacinth
Heart notes: Jasmine, Muguet, Rose, Tuberose, Ylang, Orris, Cyclamen
Base notes: Vetiver, Sandalwood, Amber, Oakmoss, Musk

My nose does not detect any of the base notes and almost none of the heart notes. I'm surprised anyone can smell this on anyone else. Pleasant up close, but no serious contender for special praise.