I’d heard Grey Flannel had been stripped of all moss, a topic fragcomm was buzzing about as far back as 2015. I’m well stocked in Geoffrey Beene’s 1975 chypre, with French Fragrances, late-2000s EA, and Jacqueline Cochran formulas. In brief: FF is the mossiest, smooth, and powdery-green with muted florals; EA is sharper and only slightly harsher, with more hyacinth and gardenia but otherwise 98% like FF; JC is the smoothest and woodiest, with the largest violet–sandalwood accord, resembling Green Irish Tweed if Bourdon had skipped dihydromyrcenol in favor of galbanum and alpha ionone.
Curious how this legend smells post-IFRA and without natural moss, I bought a new bottle. Surprisingly, it’s not much different -- less plush, but barely so. It opens with bitter greens, like snapped green beans and old lemon rinds, then sweetens as a coumarinic cloud of violet leaf wraps around me. Vegetal, hay-sweet, and dry, yet evocative of cold humidity under a scraggly April rain-soaked bush, Grey Flannel remains the most distinctive green masculine I own. No wonder I wore it exclusively for a year. A landmark fragrance, it pioneered a crisp, fresh, green style that defined the eighties and nineties.
I recommend Grey Flannel in all its vintages, but with a note of caution on vintage hunting. If you want a smooth, woody violet akin to a more natural Green Irish Tweed, seek the Jacqueline Cochran or, better yet, the first Epocha version. For a rich, green, mossy take, go for Sanofi or early French Fragrances. To boost brightness, find early Elizabeth Arden bottles, and for the most direct violet leaf, the latest EA versions (sans moss) deliver well. Grey Flannel turns fifty this year, and I hope it lasts another fifty.