Tubéreuse 2 is the the “Virginal” one out of Histoires de Parfums tuberose trio. Here the tuberose presents with its full frou frou entourage that one might expect in a tuberose perfume. Hoo-boy, those jasminey florals are right here, right now, and right cloying. Must...open...window...*thud*.
[Narrator steps over Katie's lifeless body to finish review: “If you adore jasmine at its shrillest, and insist that tuberose be accompanied by a niff of pink bubblegum, then Tubéreuse 2 is for you.”]
Hi everyone -- Katie, here. I popped back to life half an hour after applying Tubéreuse 2. It's now a lot prettier and not as screechy. But it still makes my teeth ache. (Ooh, and an hour later still, it's a sweet candy white floral/patchouli that reminds me a bit of Bulgari Jasmin Noir eau de parfum, which is one I have a soft spot for.)
Okay, so T2 is a sprightly teen tuberose, if you have the time and the patience to get through some difficult stretches. Which might make T2 a metaphor for living with a teenager.
My Perfume Pen Pal Dan had a Goldilocks moment with Tubéreuse 2:
After living, dying, and living again through Tubéreuse 2, I'm fully limbered up for Tubéreuse 3, and good thing, too: this one's subtitled “Animal”. Tubéreuse 3 is a heavy oriental: spices, smoke, tobacco -- truly a vintage-style melange. It's not like Perfume Pete off the street could snag a snort and bellow, “Get a load of that tuberose, babe!”.
Tubéreuse 2 smells nice, though kind of exactly like a tuberose perfume. I complain when tuberose smells like tuberose, I complain when tuberose doesn't smell like tuberose. It seems like tuberose can't win with me.
(Perfume Pete might know the homeless man who wandered into the Scent Bar the last time I was there. After making a few polite enquiries -- “'Pêche' means 'peach', right?” -- he helped himself to a spritz of Bruno Acampora Jasmin and yelped, outraged, “It smells like a dead dog!”)
Tubéreuse 3 is an opera house perfume. Or at least, the olden days opera house of my mind, candlelit and red-velvet swagged, filled with czars and duchesses. Elderly duchesses, who wear diapers under their crinolines. And mink stoles that have soured slightly with age and proximity to neck sweat. Jeez, I think I'm going to have to fumigate my imaginary opera house.
T3 has a kinship with Molinard Habinata, but instead of being pleasingly powdery-spicy, it's mushy and bothersome. And expired-smelling. T3 is just not my cup of fur.
Tuberose-wise, it's Tubéreuse 1 Capricieuse out of this particular flower bunch for me.
Read more Histoires de Parfums reviews here, here, and here.
Portrait of Russian theatre lady from Please Obey.com