Lacoste L.12.12 Blanc Review: The Polo Shirt in a Bottle

The first thirty minutes are a cold, bright splash. Grapefruit arrives first, bitter and rind-like rather than sweet, with the faint metallic edge of the pith. Rosemary steps in almost immediately, green and slightly camphoraceous, followed by cardamom, which adds a dry, dusty spice that reads as grooming rather than cooking. For the first ten minutes the effect is bracing and slightly austere, like the smell of a linen shirt that has just come out of a cold wash.

Between one and two hours the fragrance turns. Ylang-ylang and tuberose bloom into the heart and the composition becomes soft, creamy and faintly tropical. Neither flower is handled with the heaviness of a grand feminine; they are rendered in a light, milky register, like white petals warmed in the sun. Tuberose, that most polarising of materials, is tamed into something almost edible, while ylang-ylang contributes a buttery, gently banana-like sweetness. This is the most distinctive passage of the fragrance.

From four hours onward the shirt metaphor becomes literal. Virginia cedar provides a dry, pencil-shaving woodiness, vetiver adds an earthy, faintly smoky rootiness, and suede and leather wrap the structure in something soft and skin-like. The leather is not the dark, animalic leather of a vintage chypre; it is closer to the inside of a well-made glove. The finish is warm, tactile and quietly sensual, and it clings to fabric far longer than it does to skin.