9/23/11

Green Irish Tweed (Creed)


Having spent a considerable amount of time exploring the fragrance blogosphere, I realized something: no one wants to review Green Irish Tweed.

What gives? Is there a general fatigue on the topic from all the chatter about it on basenotes? So much so that everyone thinks that actually reviewing the scent would be redundant? In an effort to not stoop "too low," one that perhaps unintentionally comes across as a little snobby, virtually no one has bothered to do a write-up on Olivier Creed's 1985 release. I suppose when the daily rhetoric surrounding the house of Creed boils into inane absurdity and devolves into name-calling, few feel like risking their necks. Well, color me brave, because here's a review of Green Irish Tweed.

Politics aside, I like the scent. I'm not in love with it, but I find the refreshing violet leaf and sandalwood with a twist of lemon and ambergris to be just what the doctor ordered on those rainy autumn days. I also smell distinct violet and iris notes pushing through the scent's heart of mossy woods and spices. GIT reminds me of Grey Flannel in that it is both dry and purplish-green. If the newer scent were a chypre, I might feel twinges of love for it, but as it stands (the ultimate fresh fougère), I just like it and find it very wearable. Creed can be applauded for never making flankers of their most popular perfumes, and so GIT stands alone as their masculine jewel in the rough.




Dihydromyrcenol is the engine of GIT, that which lends it its semi-sweet and semi-green freshness. Its integration into the formula is what makes the fragrance a bit of a mystery, and even a little confusing. Many seem to mistake GIT for an aquatic, and immediately associate the svelte freshness with notes of water. GIT is not thoroughly "green" because the dihydromyrcenol blends with the florals and creamy sandalwood to create a kinda-sorta synthetic chill at the perfume's core. In an effort to be a little more sophisticated, I've examined the note and come to the conclusion that Olivier Creed had Pierre Bourdon explain to him what a violet leaf reconstruction could offer the nose. The result was Olivier's emphasis on the smooth, slightly metallic, iris-like component of violet leaf's scent profile, and how an added bit of citrus, a powdery iris, and the luminescence of fine ambergris tinctures could result in the perfect fougère. Unlike many Creed skeptics, as I call them, I believe Olivier had a heavy hand in GIT's formulation and production, and that Pierre Bourdon wasn't the one wearing the lab coat. However, Mr. Bourdon surely helped Creed develop the formula (Erwin Creed has admitted this), and may have advised as to which version of GIT was worthy of release to the public.

I trust my nose, and go with my gut, and both tell me that Green Irish Tweed is a fougère that is appropriate for any time or place, and what it lacks in sex appeal, it makes up for in elegance.






























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