I had my doubts. The note pyramid is a strange hybrid of unusual and uninteresting: a top of champagne, raspberry, rhubarb; a mid of mimosa, "powdery notes," Cashmeran; a base of guiac, patchouli, vanilla, musk. Oh, and cockatiel absolute, distilled from the finest hand-picked cockatiels (that's in the fine print). I jest; the company makes a point of mentioning that all notes are synthetic, and the perfume does not use animal anything to make it smell great. And great it smells, opening with a crystalline accord of fine white wine with a hint of berry tartness and a subtle bitter-greenness that emerges as a vague impression of raw rhubarb. This is followed soon after by the fluffiest, gentlest, sweetest mimosa/acacia on the commercial market. It's soft and powdery, a little woody, and so breathtakingly expansive and dimensional that it quite literally hugs the air around me. Incredible.
Seven hours later, at a low hum, this sweet yellow floral accord remains as it was, then gets sweeter still, as hints of vanilla tinge the outer edges of its powdery dream. I'm not one who often succumbs to sentimental jelly reviews, but Prtizkoleit crafted something so beautifully affecting here that words escape me. Cockatiel smells like a departure from the Zoologist brand because it wasn't a Zoologist creation to begin with. Thus, I view the fragrance as more of a reflection of Pritzkoleit's genius than of Victor Wong's curation; any niche executive worth his salt would jump on the opportunity to acquire an Arts and Olfaction winner and call it their own. With that said, kudos to Zoologist and to Wong for keeping this masterpiece in production. Cockatiel is full-bottle worthy.