Velvet Vendetta by Sarah Baker: a vanilla that bites back

If vanilla had a criminal record, it would smell like Velvet Vendetta. From the first spray I felt that delicious jolt when a fragrance refuses to behave. Sarah Baker lets Margaux Le Paih-Guérin steer the reins here, and the ride is unapologetically grown-up: less frosting, more firelight and lacquered leather.

On my skin the opening feels sun-scorched and slightly bitter, like vanilla pods dragged across a wooden bar. There is a curl of smoke that never overwhelms, more embers than bonfire, giving the sweetness grit. The heart softens into a suede glow, the kind of texture you want to stroke, with a resinous hum that reads weathered rather than antique. The vanilla is the star, but it is no ingenue. It is salted, singed, and dusted with something that hints at tobacco pouches and old books.

A few practical notes for the fellow obsessives:

• Projection: confident in the first hour, then a gauzy aura that sits a polite arm’s length.
• Longevity: 8 to 10 hours on me, the final act a plush skin-scent that lingers on cuffs the next day.
• Seasonality: autumn through spring, though I would absolutely wear it for a sultry evening in July. Rule breakers welcome.
• Gender: squarely unisex. On a man it reads smoked bourbon vanilla. On me it leans dark-feminine with a suede ribbon.

What I love most is the tension. Velvet Vendetta is polished but not polite, sensual without any syrup. You can smell the hand of Margaux Le Paih-Guérin in the way the facets lock together cleanly, yet the overall effect feels delightfully feral. This is vanilla that knows its worth and keeps the receipt.

If you crave a fragrance that turns the cliché of “cozy vanilla” inside out, this is your troublemaker. Velvet Vendetta doesn’t shout. It smolders, and then it smirks when you lean in closer. In a market drowning in sugar, Sarah Baker just handed us a sweet note sharpened like a blade.