The opening note of Fumerie Turque is a handful of Indian sweetmeats, popped into the mouth after a spicy meal to freshen the breath. I can almost taste the fennel seeds sweetened by crystals of sugar, cooling and refreshing. It takes me a while to get beyond this initial, indelible impression. The subtle wisp of tobacco struggles to emerge from the cloud of sweetness, and the effect is faintly annoying, like a woman who walks into a hooka lounge wearing too much cheap perfume. The flowers, too, drown in the syrupy sweetness, barely able lend their delicate subtleties, though the rose makes a valiant effort. Finally, in the dry down, vanilla and spice emerge, dulling the sweetness and allowing a comforting warmth to prevail.
