Robert Piguet Fracas Eau de Parfum for Women 100 ml

Product Information

For all its glory, I would be the very first to say that you should never buy Fracas blind unless you are sure from ahead of time that you love powerful, heady white floral or tuberose scents. Never. One reason is the powerful projection and longevity of Fracas, which really cannot be emphasized enough. Read the comments on Fragrantica; they are uniform. When someone wrote that Fracas lasted through two showers, I believed it fully. When others write that it can induce searing migraines in even small doses to anyone sensitive to perfumes, I believe them too. At first blast, Fracas is sweet—but not cheap or candy-sweet like the mass perfumes of the last two decades. This is the sweetness of seduction. It has a darkness to it, though it’s not heavy; and the more it develops on skin, the more it feels alive and blooming. Put simply, Fracas is a tuberose bomb—a powerful, lush, heady white floral with a narcotic undertow—but Cellier’s genius was in the way that she couched the polarizing flower in other notes to make it three-dimensional, round, and soft. Bergamot and orange blossom top notes give it a freshness; a whisper of peach makes it creamy; cedar, musk, and sandalwood in the base add warmth. The composition has the effect of being confronted with a bouquet of flowers, but also of pressing your nose against salty skin. The ingredients are simple, but the mystique is undefinable. I’m not saying Fracas is easy to wear. It's so glamorous, so ravishing, and has so much presence that there are certain situations when it feels too much; at an intimate dinner, for instance, it might make feel like a pushy uninvited guest. But in a crowd, it’s devastating: Just watch people’s noses twitch and their eyes glaze over dreamily as they try to sniff out the source of that bewitching sillage.

bergamot, orange blossom, greens, peach, tuberose, jasmine, violet, iris, lily of the valley, carnation, sandalwood, musk, oakmoss, and cedar.

Come back when you're older

Cellier infamously dedicated Fracas ~a voluptuous tuberose scent conceived for ‘femmes’~ to the beautiful Edwige Feuillère, while she promised the butcher Bandit to the ‘dykes’. Even if you love heady florals, it may be best if you first try a sample, ideally for the vintage version. That Fracas is…. well, if you love it, words simply can’t do it justice. And, if you hate it, words can’t seem to convey the full depth of the fear or revulsion. Either way, one thing is undeniable: it is a legend which set the standard for all white florals which followed. I’m fortunate not to experience any of that. [CLARIFICATION: again, I’m talking about my 1998, now “vintage” version of Fracas. ] On me, it is predominantly tuberose and gardenia, with a touch of green, a base of creamy earthiness and, yes, a strong feeling of a hot body after sex. (Though never the gardenia and “ bad-idea sex” that one person amusingly called the scent of Fracas.) The rest — the numerous, subtle nuances and undulating waves of notes — I refuse to break down. I won’t dissect Fracas. I suppose I don’t want to dig into why it creates the magic that it does for me. To me, Fracas is the Ode to Joy in Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony. There are a lot of cadences involved, but some things are just meant to be appreciated as a majestic whole and to try for yourself. [Ideally, in vintage form.] Never before has there been a more apt name for a fragrance. The Oxford English Dictionary defines ‘Fracas’ as; “a noisy disturbance or quarrel” [2] and that pretty much sums up this fragrance to a T. Fracas is an assault on the senses, she charges into the room, announcing her arrival, ensuring that all eyes are on her and letting everyone know that she is the centre of attention. No-one else is worth watching.

Fracas opens with dazzling bergamot and wonderfully indolic, luminous orange blossom. As much as Fracas may be known for being the Queen of Tuberoses, she could also be considered as an orange blossom too. It’s this coalition of tuberose and orange blossom that sets Fracas apart from the crowd. Yes she’s the Queen of Tuberoses but I think she would also stand a good chance of being crowned Queen of Florals too.The fragrance is known as a tuberose powerhouse, but other ingredients amplify the effect. Reviewing the fragrance for The New York Times, Chandler Burr detailed its notes: