Amethyst Éclat (2014) is the clear reinterpretation of Amethyst by Nathalie Lorson, who had already signed the elder. Raspberry, blackcurrant and pear open onto a wide peony brightened by magnolia and softened by rose; blackberry, musk and violet close it. A fruity floral that is deliberately understated, brighter than powerful.
The opening is tart and brief. Raspberry arrives first, pulpy, immediately paired with a blackcurrant whose green bitterness keeps the whole from turning into candy. Pear, more discreet, softens the edges and gives these two fruits a juicy flesh rather than a syrup. This is the register of freshly cut fruit, not jam.
Everything then plays out at the heart, where the fragrance departs from its elder. Peony settles in broadly, in its modern perfumed version: an ample flower, somewhat watery, almost transparent. Magnolia lends it a lemony accent that keeps it bright, and rose, discreet, gives it just enough body to keep it from evaporating. The fruits do not disappear for all that; they move beneath the flower and continue to tint it.
The base descends slowly, without a break. Blackberry reappears, darker and more velvety than in the top notes, and forms a bridge with a clean, cottony musk that takes up most of the space. Violet, powdery, anchors the base and leaves that faintly talc-like grain that many notice without being able to name it.
The whole holds within a narrow, deliberate register. No turn, no sharp contrast between the tiers: it moves from fruit to flower to powder in gradual shifts. This is both its quality and its limitation. Longevity remains modest and sillage discreet: the name promises a flash of brilliance, the fragrance delivers clarity.