Dune (1991)
by Christian Dior

Dune is to orientals what Apes L'Ondee is to florals. It is a contradition within itself. Dune is a thin, dry, arid perfume (vetiver?) not unlike the desert that the name implies. Yet, at the same time, it is warm like the sun on that desert (amber!). I have been searching all winter to find an ambery scent that is not as heavy as Shalimar (a favorite), but one that radiates warmth. How could I have forgotten Dune? Turin and Sanchez call it "the bleakest beauty in all of perfumery". They are so right!

I don't find this to be "bleakly beautiful" at all! I find it to be a warm, woody oriental, sweet but not cloying or syrupy, spicy but not overwhelming. Wonderful! I was surprised to find it at Shopper's Drug Mart (I guess they're a Christian Dior-approved vendor!) ;)

Warning: quite strong, don't overdo it!

Dior created a one-of-a-kind with Dune. It's interesting to read others find it harsh or heavy, and I might agree but there is something so mysterious about it that I want to wear it in the heat of summer. It has the "desert essence" in its notes. The rosewood, mandarin orange, ylang ylang, amber and vanilla transport me to another mystical world and it seems to welcome the heat to give it a multi- dimensional headiness. I too will always keep this one in my drawer for the summertime and evenings out or just an afternoon gathering of friends. It brings me confidence and allure.

Wearing Dune transports me to a windswept beach at dusk. I imagine myself standing alone, looking out over the surf toward the darkening sky, with the sunset behind me. Dune has all the melancholy beauty of such a moment--melancholy, but also warm and comforting. I'm not sure exactly what it is in this fresh, woody oriental that makes me think of the beach (something saline?), but the image always occures to me, even with the smallest whiff.

Dune begins with anisic,bitter notes on top of honey. If you can imagine bitter honey, this is it. The dry-down is ambery and resinous, with good staying power and sillage throughout. A classic.

Dune is based on a powdery woody amber with a fuzzy texture, flat character, and preternatural potency. It’s an ingredient I detest, and one which has become near ubiquitous in men’s fragrances since about the mid-1990s. (See Guerlain Homme, Cartier Roadster, and Lolita Lempicka au Masculin.) Remarkably, Dior manages to make it tolerable for me in this scent by cutting it with a sharp, steely galbanum note and some very tart citrus. Dune is a fine reminder that an ingredient may not be inherently objectionable, but rather that its impact will depend upon its treatment and context.

As Dune develops it goes the way of a dark, resinous oriental, with patchouli unseating the citrus and galbanum, while providing similar relief from the potentially oppressive powdery amber. Between the patchouli, some indolic white florals, and a faintly urine-inflected honey note, Dune also projects an understated but insistent animalic stink which I find highly advantageous to the overall composition. In fact, Dune becomes more and more animalic as it ages on me, eventually morphing into a sensuous, appealingly foetid musk and resin skin scent. Nice stuff all around, and a very pleasant surprise!

This was the first "grown-up" fragrance I ever wore.  I bought myself a mini when I was 12 and LOVED it.  Maybe it was sandalwood I perceived; maybe it was the amber; whatever I smelled in it was dramatic and complex, and to my adolescent nose, was unlike anything I had ever smelled before.  I was aware of its power, though, and stopped wearing it by high school, feeling I was too young to be wearing high-end fragrance.  I adopted the scented lotion.  Now I'm almost 30 and recently, purely by chance, came across a tester and remembered, excited to once again experience the fragrance that captivated me so as a girl. I sniffed the atomizer and could not bring myself to apply such a synthetic, incense-y, altogether nose-hair curling potion to my skin. Blech. What a difference 18 years make.