I met Floris’ White Rose in the Cambridge Summer of my first year of university, and sparks flew immediately. It’s really a fruity rose, though not the typical red berries with pink petals. Instead, this is sun-lit grapes of an ethereal jade, a bouquet of crisp, cream-white roses, and tangy green apples freshly cut. The result is so authentic, like a real garden in fruiting and blossoming beneath clear sunshine. It’s perhaps the subtle amber of the base which adds a pure translucency of fresh goldenness that is the source of the sure sunlight of the scent. The combination of the indulgent grapes, orchard apple, and fresh roses is blissfully comfortable yet so exciting, and reminds me of summer days in young childhood when I believed fairies might be conjured with a sprinkle of glitter beneath my pear-tree.
White Rose is also like a sparkling, rose-flavoured summer wine in that it’s brightly sweet, and sticky with intense joy and love. Aldehydic notes as well as the grapes contribute to this enchanting wine-like quality. The sweetness is sophisticated, indicative of a romance that’s very true, however euphoric it may be. As the greenness of the scent comes from fruit rather than foliage or herbs, the result is neither densely lush nor park-like, but instead dewy and imaginatively abundant, reminiscent of the paradisic scenes of Rococo art and Romantic era poetry.
The rose of White Rose is said to be accompanied by other flowers like carnation, iris, and jasmine. I can’t smell any of these distinctly, but perhaps they join together delicately like little flower faeries of a pastel spectrum, to dance around the white rose as though it were the full moon, so that they might adore and amplify its luminous aura. The soft violet, in fact, is perceptible and kind of floats over the scent like a distant dusk that promises a summer dessert of magic. Finally, there is musk, as sheer yet as present as the pheromones between two butterflies who plait the air between them as they play through their journey to infinity.