Tiffany & Co Eau de Parfum is heavy on the musk, that you can smell from the opening. It seems to want to grab Tiffany customers, wholly indifferent to perfume, by their basest instincts, as relating to their assumed love of detergent and laundry smells. Imagine that trail coming out full-blown, with thick vapor, out of the basement at Tiffany's as Holly Golightly stands in front of the store windows munching on her croissants and getting high on the early morning laundry...
Only when that first bulwark of sedate olfactory conformism has been placed, and diffuses itself for a rather long while, do we get a more unexpected note: green of mandarin. As the name implies, the scent is green, a bit herby, fruity. It is probably there to help suggest the iconic color of blue-green that Tiffany packaging has become recognized for. It is also a sharp note somewhat suggestive of the effect of Galbanum, but different. Somehow, the next sensation you get from the composition is one which makes you think of skaï leather and fruit aldehydes. It's a bit chemical.
If you do get some roundness thanks to the fruity theme, the sharpness always remains. It evokes Blue Grass by Elizabeth Arden for that sharp character. Is that meant to convey a no-nonsense, energetic attitude fit for New York ladies, in the first order of things? Other markets will follow suit.
The edp develops a soft side after all these rugged openings. Tiffany & Co. edp now develops a lovely green fruity personality which is a bit unusual in its verdurous tonalities. By contrast, the fragrance feels by now particularly velvety and soft, even a bit angel-skin-like, thanks to the iris. When the drydown kicks in, the mood is that of a musky floral which smells as it ought to smell, professionally made and efficacious, if not artistic.
To some extent, and as it becomes clearer, Tiffany & Co. edp is a rewriting of the power perfume of the 1980s; the company launched a Tiffany perfume in 1987 incidentally. It has a brash side to it; it can talk loud; it can smell strong if it wants to (spray more); it is noisy like heels clicking on the pavement and rows of bangles banging against each other are. It's the 2017 New York City version of the 1981 Giorgio by Giorgio Beverly Hills. Perfumer Daniela Andrier of Givaudan seems to have wanted to capture some of that famed American energy and too-muchness, once more, in a perfume by a brand which has contributed to how you envision style Made in USA. There is something simple and straightforward about it which screams American virtue, with a hint of the hustler.