Saiga
Fragrance notes
Character
Jean-Claude Ellena, a master of transparency, turns his hand to a fruit-flavored rose in Saiga, and the result is a sprig of black currant leaf dipped in sugar water. It opens with a sharp, almost metallic snap of black currant, the tart berry note tinged with a green, stemmy bitterness that keeps it from tipping into candy. The rose arrives quickly, but it is not a velvety damask or a jammy Turkish petal; it is a pale, aqueous rose, half-dissolved in the currant’s tangy juice. This is not a deep garden bloom but a single petal floating on a clear glass of spring water. The soft spicy and woody accords barely register as such, just a faint warmth at the base, a murmur that says the composition has a skeleton at all. The performance is the real letdown. With a longevity that barely scratches two and a half hours and a sillage that stays within arm's length, Saiga is a whisper of a fragrance. It suits the person who wants a clean, fleeting pleasure for a brisk morning commute or a lazy afternoon lunch, but anyone expecting presence or projection will be left frustrated. It is a perfectly pleasant skin scent for warm spring days, a short story that ends before the coffee arrives.
