Rose barbare – eau de parfum guerlain

The moment I first experienced this fragrance I knew it was something special; the first sniff brought me back to the classic Chypres of the ‘70s. A spicy rose - not so much oriental as middle eastern, probably the Turkish delight note. Not your typical floral rose, there is an untamed quality to the wild red rose in this composition.
I see an earlier reviewer has mentioned longevity and sillage could be better, this seems to drift in and out, you think it’s gone and then suddenly you get a waft of it back. I have worn in three times in the last fortnight, it’s intriguing.
If you get a chance to try it, you should because it’s unique.

Guerlain ROSE BARBARE is a beautiful composition of dark garnet red roses glistening with the thinnest patina of deep amber honey. This is a very refined display of the rose note, far from the "I only promised you a rose garden" frags. Simply exquisite. The development is not very complex, but ROSE BARBARE opens so appealingly that I'm happy for it to stay that way--as long as possible, in fact!

I do not consider this a chypre but a lightly oriental floral with a slightly gourmand edge. I could eqt these rose petals! The honey note is luscious and the dark red velvety roses are a welcome change from the pink ones so often featured in perfume. Although ROSE BARBARE opens fairly warm, the drydown becomes warmer still.

I am very impressed with this creation: proof positive that the illustrious Guerlain tradition continues on! Definitely FB- or decant-worthy. I would love to wear ROSE BARBARE again.

Rose Barbare is a magnificent creation from the house of Guerlain and perfumer Francis Kurkdjian. As a Serge Lutens devotee, allow me to describe this scent using Lutens-ian references:

Procure one bottle of that elusive unicorn Nombre Noir. Extract the depths of its woody, green heart. Make sure to exclude any of its winey elements.

Next, secure a bell jar of Rose de Nuit. Isolate its honeyed, waxy rose, then discard some of that honeyed waxiness.

After, mix the extractions obtained from Nombre Noir and Rose de Nuit. Test tube, vat, witchy cauldron—your pick. Throw in some aldehydes for freshness and sparkle. (If using a cauldron, really go for it—sprinkle in some eye of newt, toe of frog, wool of bat, and/or tongue of dog.)

Finally, spritz judiciously onto skin. Go about your day as usual, armed with “thank yous” for the compliments you’re certain to receive. A touch-up midday is advised.

Mmm, the alchemy of scent!

Rose Barbare is a real drama and somewhat a shame as it tells the story of a beautiful warm Jacaranda Rose at its peak of fragrant and petal beauty: It is a warm dewy and sticky day, enabling this magnificent flower to fully expose its fragrant and pheromone magic.
Then suddenly thick grey clouds appear out of nowhere and release a cold wall of hail the size of golf balls. As they come crushing down they destroy everything in their way, including this beauty of a rose, slaughtered and butchered by the storm.
All that is left is a cool glimpse of that warm rose lingering amidst the rapidly cooled off air, that turned this Rose into a 'Barbaric Rose' of great suffering and despair. However, the plant is still alive and it will bloom again, maybe this summer, but definitely next!

I feel so sorry for her!!

Twenty minutes in, and this fragrance brought tears to my eyes it's so beautiful to me. I can't even write a proper review.

Why do I cry? Because when I was 13 years old I fell in love. Head over heels. Obviously it didn't last because I was 13, he was 18 and lived hours away from me...

At some point during that tragedy of a relationship, I found myself getting some ink of a red rose on my ankle to remind me of him. I remember thinking, "I love him as much as I love Jesus Christ." (Yes, I was 13, but I didn't really get into trouble for getting this tattoo. I think my family and friends were trying to humour me; I was clearly in something way over my head and other than the tattoo and the endless stream of nights I cried myself to sleep I was handling my heartbreak well (good grades, regular babysitter, aced my piano exam, taught Sunday school). They let me have my relatively harmless moment of acting out, I suppose.)

The rose depicted on my ankle? I have imagined its scent my whole life since then... and it is Rose Barbare.