Les Années 25 Bis
Fragrance notes
Character
Andy Tauer’s Les Années 25 Bis opens with a deceptive burst of fresh pear and citrus, the fruit so ripe it almost drips. But within minutes, the florals rise like a slow curtain: iris’s cold, lipsticky powder collides with a dewy rose and a dollop of syrupy ylang-ylang. This is not a shy bouquet; it’s a bloom that means business. The base anchors everything with a salty, almost animalic ambergris, a touch of smoky vetiver, and patchouli’s dark earth. The whole thing feels like a vintage silk scarf left to dry on a sun-warmed stone wall in the Marais — elegant, slightly frayed, and carrying the ghost of someone else’s afternoon.
The composition leans decidedly natural, unafraid of the powdery and the dirty. That iris can wear a bit heavy if you’re not a fan of retro glamour, and the sillage, while noticeable, sits closer than the longevity might suggest; four hours in, it becomes a soft whisper against skin. It’s a fragrance that demands a mood, not a casual spritz. Reach for it on a brisk spring morning or a drizzly autumn afternoon, when you want to feel polished yet unapproachable. Skip it if crisp, modern freshies are your default — this one is a dusty, romantic mess in the best possible way. A single, waxy petal pressed between the pages of a forgotten novel.
Smells similar
Built from the same materials — ranked by how unusual the shared notes are, not by how many.
