Green Madness

While Verdigris reminds me of Eau Sauvage EdT because of its underlying shining-aromatic skeleton, I cannot help but draw similarities between Green Madness and Eau Sauvage Parfum (2017). You will smell here a similarly big, bright citric-lavender opening as in ESP but with zesty citruses replaced by the scent of green freshly cut herbs' stems and turpentine-like elemi. That's not where similarities end: both have prominent vetiver and elemi drydowns. However, just by looking at this Zworykina's fragrance notes, you will see that it is so much more than ESP. Indeed, it has lovely boozy cognac undertones (in the opening) and an entirely orthogonal to ESP woody-mossy accord that makes it way more substantial than ESP. I cannot detect rose but I'm sure it's there to round the composition, but what I can surely detect is the incense that compliments sharp elemi qualities and its woody aspects. Don't be afraid of botanicals, Green Madness doesn't smell like a witch doctor's hut at all. It is surely green but stays fresh and quite modern.
greyhound93

Green Madness: wore this to a children’s birthday party once and it kept me sane through 3 hours of madness:-)
I get a lot of citrus, although it´s not one of the notes. For being a chypre, a pretty uplifting and invigorating scent
@mom_with_needles
Green Madness) by Anna Zworykina is about hay stacks and citrus, and is a fougère in the most natural meaning of the way. At the heart of the matter lays lavender absolute: as velvety as it is herbaceous; as earthy as it is ethereal, reminiscent of the last days of summer, where the hay is at its driest, and the sun a tad gentler. An evening stroll in the fields of vegetal death might reveal some hidden life: a wild carnation here, or the regal flowering bulb of sea squills (Drimia maritimia) there, proclaiming the arrival of autumn and the death of summer...
And all of a sudden, the burden of the heat began to lift brings relief mingled with sorrow: the bittersweet farewell to summer's perceived freedom (in reality it keeps me sealed indoors even better than the rainy season). And that's how nostalgia is born.
Fougère has a strange tendency to bring on soft memories, yet has strong masculine nature: strong arms rolling bales of hay, working the fields, the freedom and the abundance of sweetness on a balmy summer night. Green Madness has all of that, and also remains a tad quirky, working unusual cognac notes into the heart, yuzu and tarragon into the otherwise lime-centred head notes, and putting accent on woods along the mossy base. It's may not look like a classical fougère because of the absence of niether coumarin-dominated note at the base nor lavender and linalool notes in the top; but it sure has the overall feel of a fougère, even if unintentionally (the perfumer-creator categorizes it as a "chypre" but I beg to differ). Technically, I can explain it by the presence of coumarin in both lime and lavender absolute. Also, the Himalayan cedarwood has an affinity with rosewood's linalool-rich personality. As with impressionism, it's the overall picture that matters, not the exact details. There are several other brush strokes of unrelated colours - yet if you step back you'll see that it is, after all, a bale of hay.
Ayala Moriel