Reviews of Une Fleur de Cassie by Editions de Parfums Frederic Malle

Malle’s vision of giving us perfumes of the past redone by today’s masters for today’s world wasn’t just a mandate, one gets the feeling it was an insatiable drive - he had to do it or he could not live. It’s therefore not a surprise how much he focused on florals at his brand’s launch and for the years to come, given that modern perfumery’s life has been dominated by florals, and he succeeded in his raison d’etre. Where he didn’t quite follow through on this vision seems to be Une Fleur de Cassie, which is in my top favorite Malle perfumes and yet also high on the list of ones I wear the least (for some reason). It is one of the most criminally under-appreciated perfumes from the brand, and I think that’s because there’s nothing modern about it. This is the big, grand, symphonic floral Malle seems to think was missing from yesteryear when big, grand, symphonic florals were the perfumes to make. It is decidedly and confidently old school.

The Cassie Flower is also doing a lot more than giving us the scent from the humble sweet acacia plant. Why it is named this, I don’t quite understand, since sweet acacia is just one section of this massive symphony. One experience everyone should have at least once in their life is to sniff a proper flower bouquet built by a master florist. A master florist will build a bouquet to a precise vision: the arrangement will be visually striking, each flower placed in a precise location; the flowers are of the highest quality and chosen for their ability to contrast with each other and work in tandem to deliver an overall accord; the number of flowers of each type determined very judiciously to make sure the accord of the bouquet has the proper balance. That is Une Fleur de Cassie. Like a bouquet by a master florist, Dominique Ropion has created what might be his signature bouquet - yes, POAL lovers, I honestly think this might be the best perfume he’s done for Malle. Perhaps why it’s called Une Fleur de Cassie is to emphasize different aspects of Vachellia farnesiana via other florals. Sweet acacia is a funny little flower. Acacia bark is often used as a tannin ingredient for leather, and makes good dark inks; it’s high in protein and a great forage food; it smells honeyed, yellow floral like mimosa, and a touch balsamic. So, dear reader, the odds of me getting all of these complex notes/accords of the perfume identified, and correctly attaching them to an aspect of sweet acacia, is a daunting task very low in probability.

At the top there are plenty of yellow and white florals, what seem to be acacia, mimosa, jasmine, and maybe lily or carnation. It’s heavily aldehydic, but the effervescence and sparkle is tempered by the deeper honey notes that each of the florals naturally carry in spades. An interesting note of cumin, quite mild but nonetheless still sweaty and dirty, strings from the top into the heart to link up with sweet acacia’s deeper and more animalic and musky qualities thanks to roses and violets. Finally at the base are evocations of sweet acacia’s deepest and darkest notes thanks to musks, vanilla, and the balsams of cedar and sandalwood. I said something at the beginning, symphonic, that I need to call back to. When an amazing orchestra is dialed-in and ready in a perfect venue, the bass section reverberates the walls and your seat, the middle frequencies make your flesh and bones tingle, and the treble rings in your ears into your teeth. With Une Fleur de Cassie, these orchestral sections are playing the chord of the cassie flower - yellow, honeyed, animalic, and balsamic floral - loud and clear in a sound check to make sure they don’t blow your eardrums out, but that the walls and seats still reverberate, your flesh and teeth still tingle, and your ears ring.

I’ve failed you, dear reader. All of these incredible materials and notes overlap with each other so seamlessly that I’m finding it nearly impossible to detect where one begins and the other ends. But that’s the point, I think. For me to sit here, in my plush chair studying this perfume on my skin and a blotter, is reductive. Just enjoy it. The symphonic orchestra needs all of its sections. The bouquet has been put together by a master florist as a work of art, but you’re still going to give it to someone you love who doesn’t know that, who is going to give it a big sniff and maybe not recognize the mastery but will certainly recognize the exquisite beauty, and look back at you with loving and warmed eyes in thanks for giving them the experience and the thought. That’s the part that matters. For being able to dissect a sweet acacia flower, and reconstruct it in a way that gives us not only olfactory beauty but emotional beauty as well, Une Fleur de Cassie is one of if not the best in the Malle line.

There is something nostalgic here, something plasticky which feels nostalgic in itself. A powdery, huge floral that makes you forget about anything else. Something vanillic, sandalwood-y in the base. High quality perfumery for people with taste - now i know, it reminds me of Bois Des Iles and Samsara.

Une Fleur de Cassie, composed by Dominique Ropion for Editions de Parfums Frederic Malle, and part of the original lineup since 2000.

What a perfume! To me, this is a masterwork floral composition. A piece of olfactory art that needs to be studied and looked upon by all future generations of perfumers. There is so much emotion embodied in this creation. Retro, and old-world smelling. It plays on the duality of love. The maternal love, and the one of your lover. Mimosa and violet are used to suggest the first, cassie flower, jasmine, and musks for the latter. Cumin acts as a bridge, to instill the carnal embodiment, and breathe life into it. For me, these two themes are always suggested and interplay at all times. Ropion doesn't just create a perfect animalistic floral, he roots deep visceral emotions to it. The opening is an assault on one's senses. The juxtaposition of cumin, violet leaf, cassie, and musks emerges to create a salty, wet cardboard accord. Brutal right from the get-go and unlike anything else. It is curious, and so you keep on sniffing. It soon tames down to reveal the floral bouquet. Yellow strokes on an Oriental canvas. Mimosa and cassie flowers dominate the floral cortege. They are related, both in smell and appearance. But just like the maternal and your beloved, they call to different emotions of belonging. I adore the Cassie Flower absolute. It is among my favorite floral materials in perfumery. Unfortunately, there are very few compositions making use of it. And none like this one. It smells much like mimosa but everything is amplified, especially the animalistic quality. Heated love. The scent of your beloved's sweaty-salty skin. The base is infused with a generous amount of sandalwood, vanilla, and musk to complete the Oriental theme, and to provide extra warmth. A scent of deep mystery and lust. A perfume for introverted intellectuals with a dirty mind.

Unfortunately, this perfume seems to generate polarizing reactions, and for reasons beyond me, it flies under the radar among others from the house. To make things worse, over the years Lauder took care to cut off some of its flair. Nonetheless, in my books, this will always be Ropion's most artistic work, his diamond in the rough for the bypassers and his most precious jewel for the true connoisseurs.

IG:@memory.of.scents

To understand Une Fleur de Cassie, it's prudent to make the distinction between the two acacia species used in perfumery. First, there is Acacia decurrens var. dealbata, the mimosa tree, with its clusters of yellow inflorescences. From this tree, the absolutes and extractions for the classic mimosa note are derived. However, there is another tree in the family, Acacia farnesiana, the Sweet Acacia (also known as Vachellia farnesiana and formerly known as Mimosa farnesiana, to make matters even more confusing). This tree has bright yellow pom-poms growing individually rather than in clusters. It is from this tree that Cassie absolute is extracted, and in Dominique Ropion's composition, it is rumored that it uses one of the highest percentages of the material in a modern perfume.

Cassie absolute is one of my favorite perfume materials, mysterious, dark, complex, and quite tenacious. It displays a rich, radiant, honey-sweet, floral, powdery-spicy odor. Deep into the dry down, it mellows into a deep, balsamic, woody, violet-like note. Its arguably more unisex and "dirty" that its cousin Acacis decurens var. dealbata. It forms the crux of Caron's legendary Farnesiana, but here with Une Fleur, it is overdosed to a dramatic effect. The composition is one of myriad textures: powdery, dusty, creamy, unctuous, earthy. While the note is not listed, the cassie seems supported by narcissus, reminding me much of the curious scent of Narcissus poeticus. Pastel animalic violet and the slightest indolic jasmine are also detected, with a lingering pollen-like quality, reminding me of the thick, bright orange pollen on the anthers of a lily.

The dry down has an ever more undulating texture and becomes muskier (on the verge of dirty drawers but not full-on) and more skin-complementary. Ropion clearly was given absolute artistic license to explore a material so unabashedly and unyieldingly, and the results are both thought-provoking and sensual. I do not find it at all challenging⁠—I am smitten with it, but I would hazard a guess that this is one is not for everyone. Be that as it may, every fragrance fanatic should give it a sniff if for nothing else, reference. A compelling and brilliant composition and my favorite from the Frederic Malle house.

A cold salon at dawn in New York.
Melancholy wafts of flowers right before their wilting sets in. Used stockings thrown on a chair, a short sleep has set off their wearer. All windows are closed.
Within an hour a maid will enter the building, very softly.

If you bashed Rue de Cambon over the head, swiped all her credit cards, and forced her to live on the street for a month, she'd come back to her pied-à-terre dazed and enriched and smelling something like this.

I love this thick, densely florid, armpitty fragrance, but I have to be in my very best, most confident mood to be able to wear it for more than an hour, otherwise I am simply overpowered by UFdC's bombastic personality.

I am often not up to the task, but when I am, this is the only scent that satisfies.

I don't know it changed after the EL handover but i remember this one smelling stronger before.

Anyway, i feel it smells like rattan beach mats which i really love to smell, always reminds me of summer. However it is pretty weak. I apply it liberally like 8-10 sprays but after 1 hour it becomes a skin scent, I can hardly smell it.

I really like the smell but would never buy at that price level

An elegant, mature, totally feminine beauty, totally modern. White, silky lingerie worn all day by a woman from whom you cannot tear your gaze. Gwynneth Paltrow, Emma Thompson, and Marissa Tomei would all wear this perfectly.

I'm just not loving this one. I can't get past the stale, starchy, almost moldy notes of mimosa and carnation. This reminds me too much of Apres L'Ondee. I don't care for that one either.

If any other notes are here, I sure can't find them through the blinding, toxic twins. I will give it a few more wears to see if it has any redeeming qualities but....

I'm always tempted to scrub this one. This time I let it ride all the way through. It settles into a vanilla base. I thought I smelled a touch of rose or jasmine. I can't be sure.

DO NOT be fooled by that demure, powdery openning. It turns into a beast after drying down. I honestly wonder why they didn't put "musk" in the note.

Really, a little warning would be helpful: I feel like I'm about to marry lady Sansa, then find the Hound waiting for me at altar.

The opening is a pleasant floral potpourri, with a nice jasmine in the foreground in my skin, accompanied by carnation and mimosa draped over a underlying carpet of a violet that blends in well as a backgound. This is a very agreeable start. The sweetness of this floral bouquet is quite restrained, which prevents it from suffocating the delightful
flowery top notes.

The drydown starts promising with a good rose impression, that assumes some fruity and aldehydic characteristics. This is less vivid and less intense than the beginning.

By the time the base notes with its mix of woods, tonka and white musky arise, they have become quite faint and are more shadows than real notes.

I get soft sillage, and adequate projection initially that gradually deteriorates, and five hours of longevity on me.

A spring daytime scent with a very commendable and satisfying, albeit not very original, beginning, which becomes increasingly anemic in intensity as well in the quality of the ingredients. Towards the end, it unfortunately has turned quite generic and lost structure. Overall 2.75/5.

It's almost impossible to really describe what Une Fleur de Cassie smells like at first blast. Ostensibly, it's honeyed mimosa and aldehydes over perfumey musks, but there so much else going on as well. I like JTD's description of "mud and metal, cinnamon and slate, almond and glue." It's a tightrope walk between weird rubbery clay-ish synthetics, old school perfume elements, and beautiful flowers.

While the complexity of the first couple of hours makes for fun sniffing, the real magic happens in the drydown, where the honeyed, pollen-laden flowers melt into a pillow of rich, luxurious pie-spiced vanilla, nutty sandalwood, and soapy musks. It's GORGEOUS. Thumbs up for entertaining weirdness, as well as truly inspired perfumery in the base.

Venus at her Mirror : Diego Velázquez
Fragrance - Léon Frédéric - 1894

Warm, rich, centred somewhere around the loins, Une Fleur de Cassie is a dark animalic floral of considerable complexity. That is not to deny its immediate impact – I rather suspect it is one of those love or hate affairs for most people. It's bold, it wears its furs like it doesn't care, and yet the care lavished on its detail is evident.
From the ever shifting gradations of its floral bouquet, to the pungency of cumin and a thyme-like note nurtured in its bosom, to powders drifting in its scent trail, hints of smoke and fine grained woods, Une Fleur de Cassie is warm, warm, warm. It's the warmth of a carnal embrace and one may not want that all the time, but in the mood it's just the thing. Opulent without being tricksy or pushy, its chief gift is a lusty sophistication that is quite uncommon.
Projection drops considerably after the first two hours.

Ropion knows how to make monster florals. Ysatis, Amarige, Alien. Jarring and disturbing to some, ravishing to others. (Count me in the disturbed category.) The key is in the synth-natural play of Ropion's aesthetic. Take Amarige and Alien (co-authored with Laurent Bruyère). They are considered versions of the soliflor yet to my nose they are so unequivocally chemical in tone as to be science-fiction. Ropion's mainstream florals are so exaggerated, so counterbalanced with potent synthetics that they can seem brittle. They might pay lip service to flowers, but their magnitude and mathematical sense of proportion mark them as artificial. The hyperbole of the accords will read as graceful to some and as frightening to others. If a flower is like a folk song, Ropion's florals are Farinelli singing to Louis XV at Versailles.

Ropion puts his ability to leverage floral tones to excellent use in Une Fleur de Cassie. It lacks the stiffness of Ysatis and the shrillness of Amarige but is equally, and proudly, as synthetic as either of the two. The name name might lead you to believe it's an attempt at a soliflor, but the mix of an odd botanical note like cassie/mimosa with heavy synthetics makes Une Fleur de Cassie a cyborg of a perfume. It pairs scents of mud and metal, cinnamon and slate, almond and glue. The the bold use of seemingly disparate tones gives Une Fleur de Cassie a deep saturation. The balance of large strokes and detail allows it to be as large as Ysatis's bouquet but far less overdressed.

Une Fleur de Cassie showcases Ropion's strength at calculating olfactory effects to the umpteenth decimal point. It is a remarkably intricate and precise perfume but the complexity doesn't lead to obscurity. You don't need a vocabulary of notes to read Une Fleur de Cassie. The legibility is in the clarity and accuracy of the olfactory aesthetics, not in the list of notes. To lean further into the opera analogy, Une Fleur de Cassie offers a satisfying experience whether you've read the libretto or not.

For some perfumers working with a prestigious niche house is the opportunity to branch out from the obligatory mainstream sensibilities of their day jobs. For Ropion its a chance to hunker down and dig more deeply into a genre he's known for. Frédéric Malle's approach to art direction is to give the perfumer the resources to pursue his own direction and then to engage in a discussion during the perfume's creation. It is a measured approach, one that favors a thoughtful composition over an outrageous one. Une Fleur de Cassie's success is likely due to both Malle's and Ropion's input and was one of the perfumes that put the Malle brand at the center of attention when the line launched in 2000.

This is an easy thumbs up, and a contender for a future purchase. It leans feminine to me, a flowery leather.

So far, this is the only scent from the well-loved Malle line that I can really appreciate.

UFdC starts out with a natural-smelling mimosa–buttery yellow, somewhat stemmy, a bit oily. However, there's a grain-like substantiality beneath it–a kind of meal effect that counters the mimosa and elevates the scent above that of a simple floral portrait. Wearing it is peculiar in that it tricks you into thinking it's a simple linear accord when, in fact, there's a lot going on to sustain the effect it produces.

While there's a slight sourness upfront (cuminaldehyde, I suspect), the fragrance is generally warm–almost nutritious-smelling without being a gourmand; a textural, haptic kind of thing akin to a powdered shrub crossed with almonds and glue. It smells, to me, a bit like an untenanted field, or even a pile of discarded flowers left to rot in a damp space. This is the kind of scent that draws you in based on morbid curiosity, and then succeeds in convincing you that its unorthodox beauty is more durable and substantive than that of “prettier” flowers–the kind of beauty that's stoic, learned, and lasting. It's not traditionally “nice," but it's moving all the same.

I find it to be less of an abstract composition, and it doesn't feel particularly tied to a time period to me, but it does trigger in my mind the painterly style of impressionism. There are great dynamics within it–golden hues and glimmers of light–yet it never really permits you to gain a complete grasp of what it's doing. Variants of the image it conjures up slip back and forth like an olfactory View-Master, but the enveloping impression remains throughout–buttery, indolic, golden yellow, desaturated sepia. A bit musty and sour, and there's little superficial appeal to be found, but this is rewardingly original–the kind of thing you'll want to smell again and again just to remind yourself that such a scent is a thing that exists in the world.

And finally I found the first Malle for which I can truly and openly say "I really dig this". I still consider this house the quintessence of overpriced pretentiousness, but this time, they nailed it completely. Fleur de Cassie is a powerful, nostalgic, majestic, incredibly refined rich floral scent, really pleasant, distinguished, carnal but clean and luminous, at the same time discreet and refined but dense, deep, substantial and sensual. It has some synthetic nuances (eugenol, Iso E, a slightly unpleasant sort of industrial-camphor feel), but here they manage to appear somehow fit for the composition, like if they provided an undertone of "aseptic modernity" to a really classic composition. Perhaps it's not intentional, but to my nose, it just works. Apart from this, Fleur de Cassie is all about botanical, celestial whiteness, in all its nuances, from innocent to carnal, beautifully contrasting with a subtle woody-smoky accord which emerges after a while. The richer and most interesting note is probably the mimosa, with all its beautiful facets: earthy, tobacco, sweet, mossy. To a certain aspect, as I said, it's a rather classic scent, almost conventional, but it manages to bring in something new and original – I don't know what precisely, it just smells memorable and recognizable, even if most of the accords are quite common. And most of all, it smells undeniably great, compelling and rich.

8/10

Une Fleur de Cassie smells amazing to me. There are many controversial reviews on this one. To me it is not challenging in the least. It is a modern twist on the classic powdery fragrance and smells much more natural and softer than the aldehydic classics we love.
In the beginning it smells like cardboard but when it dries down you can smell some spice and the delicate scent of mimosa flowers which adds some sweetness and cheer to the blend.Delightful!

Worthy of at least one sniff.

Genre: Floral

Talk about love-it-or-hate-it! Of course, every time a scent splits opinions as thoroughly as Un Fleur de Cassie, I'll be next in line to try it. The cassie blossom has a musty, foetid quality about it that's frankly more animal than floral. It's a note of decay, like the abandoned lair of a large mammal. I'll wager that it's this animalic edge that makes Un Fleur de Cassie such a controversial fragrnace.

The top notes are deceptive: jasmine and rose are first out of the gate. The notes are well rendered and blended, but in and of themselves they're nothing special. Then the cassie comes roaring past from behind though, and its earthy, even dirty influence runs the floral accord off the track and into uncharted territory.

A well judged touch of mimosa contributes some sparkle to the dark cassie, while the rose and jasmine meld with an exceptionally creamy sandalwood below. We've come a long way from the seemingly innocent opening, and anyone expecting a "pretty" floral will be sorely disappointed, if not utterly repulsed.

There is a beauty to Un Fleur de Cassie, but it's of the dangerous kind found in scents like Yatagan and Muscs Koublaï Khan. The drydown is another surprise, with a very light powder and vanilla hovering above the soft sandalwood, all anchored by the murky shadow of the cassie note.

The sandalwood in Un Fleur de Cassie is much like the one Ropion employs in Carnal Flower. In fact, Un Fleur de Cassie could be the dark doppelganger to Carnal Flower, earthy and slightly threatening where its counterpart is sublime and ethereal. Un Fleur de Cassie will always be the ugly stepsiter of the two, but then I'm not often in a fairy princess kind of mood.

If this description hasn't turned your stomach, give Un Fleur de Cassie a try. Just give it enough time to drop its floral mask and reveal its true nature.

This is a perfume that is educating my nose, one sniff at a time. I really didn't know what I was smelling and I had to test it out for an entire week before I could comfortably come to a conclusion on the notes I was smelling or how I even felt about it. If this perfume had a Facebook page, its status would read "It's Complicated".

So, it opens up with a huge white and yellow floral note that is quite heady and indolic. The first thing that came to mind was "Casablanca lilies" and felt so proud of myself for being able to pinpoint one of the notes.....wrong!! Bad nose, bad nose - pay more attention in class! This is ylang ylang. I mistook it for Casablanca lilies because ylang ylang is blended with those lilies in Acqua Allegorica Lys Soleia. This part made my heart sink - Lys Soleia, although I own it and is perfectly nice, is something I bought early on in my perfume quest, before I realized that I don't like solar or tropical scents that much.

But what I did appreciate when I first smelled Lys Soleia and what I do still appreciate in the opening of Une Fleur, is that this note of Ylang Ylang is rendered so naturally as if I were standing in a florist's shop and sticking my head into a vase of flowers. The impression is sticky, heady, indolic, almost over ripe, and you also get a realistic (albeit unsettling) whiff of the dank vase water in which the flowers sit. There is also quite a big dollop of a natural jasmine here too, a note I like better.

The scent quickly shifts past this stage, and goes into the heart of the powdery, mealy smell of mimosa, or what I take to be mimosa. The only other vaguely mimosa scent I had ever smelled was YSL Cinema, and this is not similar at all. The mimosa here is dry, powdery, and oily all at the same time. It is a strange smell, not really floral at all, and in fact it reminds me a bit of wheaten flour, or raw dough, almost like the bready top note in the current Mitsouko EDP. The flour is mixed through with dusty cumin, and you can perceive this quite strongly. It is not all that offensive though, and I happen to like using cumin in my cooking (although my husband and son run from the kitchen when I use it.)

This dry, dusty flour mixture is sprinkled on top of the remainders of the lush tropical flowers, which are still wet and almost disintegrating because they are over ripe. So you get a dance between dry, powdery mimosa and cumin, and the wet, indolic white and yellow flowers. I don't get any violets. Violets???

I am so impressed at how this scent melds into one fragrant fug that hangs around your body like a cloud. It lasts all day. This is a serious, intellectual, shape-shifting perfume. The parts are separate and then melded, and now fly away into separate notes again. I love it. I am considering which one of my children I should sell to get my mitts on a full bottle.

In summary: ylang ylang, jasmine, indoles, solar, wet, over ripe - shifting into dry, bready, mealy mimosa flour, dusty cumin - a clove note here and there.....I give up. I don't have the vocabulary or the skill to describe this fragrance. It may not be the one for you - but I implore you: try this at least once in your life. And by which I mean, not one day but a series of seven days. And then make up your mind.

My first reaction on applying this was; "Wow! Big, animalic, leathery floral!" The cumin gives the opening a wonderfully dirty undertone, without being at all offensive. After an hour or two, it all quietens down into a soft, creamy-powdery mimosa with a touch of peppery violets. The base is suede-like in texture, with a hint of musk. The overall impression is of a golden-yellow colour, with little patches of purple from the violets; the colour of spring.
When l first tried this in cold weather, it seemed a very quiet fragrance after that first couple of hours. But on warmer days it really blooms, & it lasts over ten hours on me. Wonderful.

Despite its many notes, this smells to my nose like untreated fleece - from a sheep's hide, also a little dark like a leather with a bit of tart rubber thrown in for good measure.

Not very nice at all. Luckily, it disappears in minutes.

How can so many notes, all smelling wonderfully on their own, come to so little when combined. It's like a drawing where every color has had its chance to cover another color until they're all there and all you can see is black.

They say you have to take time to understand this. true .I worked for years in the niche perfumery but with this I have trouble finding words. when I smelled it first I could hardly tell what it smelled like. But it smelled deliciously French, rich and chic..... yet it smelled antique and like a wiff from the old world.... without being dusty or old fashioned. it was as if you look at a painting of Lempicka.... and suddenly are standing in it. It felt as if your grandma shows you a photograph of herself as a young girl in the 1940s.... and then suddenly you are in the photograph with her. Antique and new at the same time. Like a seal never broken. This fragrance is sth so original , I cant compare it to any other fragrance I know or own. It is as if You found out what an apple tasted hundred years ago, what a new hat in the twenties felt like wearing. Fleur de Cassie feels like sth that comes out of a time when things still createdemotions in people.....
out of the world yet part of it. wonderful!!