Every time I try Bandit, I wonder why I don’t love it. I should love it – I love chypres, I love leathers, and I love the idea of a perfume so bad-ass you can almost visualize its resting bitch face.
Maybe it’s because there’s nothing to distract from Bandit’s core brutality. Chypres are bitter, leather is bitter – leather chypres are therefore doubly bitter. Tabac Blond takes you almost to the edge but drifts into a sweet, smoky amber drydown that softens the landing. Habanita covers it up with flowers and face powder. Jolie Madame has the sweet sparkle of violets.
Bandit apologizes for nothing, and covers nothing up. It’s a tough, bitter, raw-edged leather that winds up in ash and sweat. The flowers that are there are putridly creamy in a stomach-turning way, and the civet forces your head into its crotch.
Putting it on is like fighting your way into a tight black leather jacket that crackles with hostility as you try to make it bend. Once on, there is a raw, salty meat smell that crawls up at your nose from the seams of the jacket, as if bits of cow flesh still cling to the underside. I was always disappointed that Lady Gaga’s first fragrance didn’t smell like I imagined her dripping meat dress to smell – but Bandit does.
But that’s not what turns my stomach. What gets me each and every time is the jarring clash between the raw, salted-meat leather notes and the creamy floral side. The florals are calorific, full-fat renderings of themselves – a rubbery tuberose, a petrol-like jasmine – mashed into a cream cheese texture that when it rubs up against the dark, dry leather causes my gorge to rise. The civet plays a key role here, of course, both heightening the pitch of the brutal leather accord and giving the florals a slutty growl.
To my surprise, it’s the smoky ashes of the dreaded galbanum that rescue Bandit for me – cutting through the overly rich florals and brutal, salted leather, the ash weaves in and out and draws my attention to a campfire in the distance, a successful (and much appreciated) piece of misdirection. Every time I get to this part of the dry down, I wonder if it’s worth at least getting a decant.
On the plus side, Bandit is distinctive, bold, and full of character. It is also ageless. In its cleaned-up, reformulated state, the current Bandit EDP is firmly modern in its minimalism. There is nothing in it that pegs it to any one year, let alone a year as far back as 1944. As Teutonically ergonomic as an Olympian swimmer’s waxed chest, it feels like it could have been debuted in the same year as Rien (Etat Libre d’Orange), even though 62 years separate the two.
On the other hand, Bandit is a fragrance whose high proportion of green notes makes it vulnerable to the ravages of time. In two samples I’ve had (vintage and concentration unknown to me), the green elements – the moss, hyacinth, artemisia? – seemed to have wilted like lettuce in strong sun. The resulting vegetal, decaying mulch does nothing for me, not because it is unpleasant per se, but because part of me associates that wilted green note with perfumes I find dated. I won’t name names, but basically anything with coriander, peach, gardenia, and sometimes that 70’s way of treating patchouli.
In the end, though, Bandit is just a curiosity for me, and a placeholder – it smells much better and richer than the brown-grey drudgery of the current Cabochard and less herbally-up-its-own-ass as Miss Balmain, but not nearly as good as Jolie Madame, whose rush of violets makes me smile. Habanita and Tabac Blond are its sisters-in-arms, equally at home with a sneer and a cigarette dangling out of their mouths, but I would take them – any of them – over Bandit. I just don’t have the personality required for such naked aggression.
I love the opening as it greets me with the same green,green,green bitters as Givenchy III, Aliage and Cabochard. Lovely that!!
Then it turns ugly, my stomach turns slightly. I suspect something like Tuberose.
I am drawn through the muck by a light smokiness and land into a rather Linear Dark Leather paralleled by this feathery smoke.
This leather is plastic,severe and yes,"Butchy" and forbidding.
Reminds me of an event in the 80's. I joined a gay friend on an excursion through a Dyke bar. We were the only two men. There were quite a few very beautiful women on the dance floor and the air full of heated Estrogen. I thought I was being careful about my glances. A short, stocky "Bull" walked past giving me a shoulder shove, a hard stare and "That's my Bitch...Bitch". She was scented like Bandit and angry Estrogen.
I mumbled "No I am with him" pointing at my friend.
Friend and his sister thought it was hilarious!!
I could not get out fast enough. Nearly soiled myself.
Bandit remains as such today. I certainly wouldn't wear it and I am not likely to want to have anyone I am with wear it.
Bandit Plastic, Tuberose and Leather. Nooo, Thank-you.
09th June, 2016 (last edited: 22nd June, 2016)
Outstanding unisex, slightly animalic, floral leather, the circa 2000 parfum version.
The floral and the leather are the same smell, as if a zealous tanner made a dark, heavy leather jacket floral and shiny. A thick leather, but soft.
The base isn't a million miles away from the effect in Antaeus, I think they may have a similar patchouli.
06th February, 2016 (last edited: 07th February, 2016)
Bandit has been called the edgiest of "butch leathers," and I suppose it is, but for me it always enters the room with a wink and a healthy capacity for enjoying its calculated effects. Bandit's bitter notes are interwoven with indolic floral airs - glorious discord, fragrant (and flagrant) irony!
Comparing the 2015 EDP with a vintage extrait - which might be too much a case of apples v. oranges, even for Bandit - I find the vintage juice much more bitter, with accords that are smoother but at the same time harder to pin down; nevertheless, the core personality of this reference leather fragrance is intact and alive in its current iteration. Bandit will always be among my favorite leathers, but it is so much more than that: like all noteworthy incarnations, it is greater than the sum of its parts.
Dangerously sensual.BANDIT has the most wonderful scent of sex appeal.There's something very passionate about this perfume that men follow intensive you around every time you wear it.It is a perfume for the mature,unique and impertinent women who knows where she is going. Sultry,Classic,Seductive,Attractive,Intriguing, Leathery and Headstrong Passion.
All about BANDIT is an intoxicating blend of galbanum,bergamot,aldehydes,vetiver,oakmoss,civet, patchouli and especially leather.the dry down has a deep alluring and animalistic that leaves an impression and makes it for women are not afraid of their sensuality and also modern women who feel nostalgic about glamorous eras past.
Totally You can smell leather for a long time.BANDIT is perfect for COLD winter nights with someone you would like to seduce.It is not absolutely Feminine and i found a masculine characteristic in it but if any woman wear it,reminds me a Femme Fatale with hot emotion so i don't recommend it for the faint of heart at all.test it first before buying.
Longevity?Superb on my skin.
The current version of Bandit by Piguet smells something *like* its vintage version, which means a classic aldehydated-leathery chypre, with “humid” and heavy floral notes on a gloomy base of leather, woods, civet, galbanum, patchouli, benzoin, and the usual green-floral breeze: shortly, a feminine "femme fatale" scent like Habanita or Cabochard (which means men can easily wear them as well, as such scents now became more masculine than the masculine ones). But as for (new) Habanita and (new) Cabochard, this current reissue has not the slightest resemblance in terms of quality with its predecessor. It is plain, artificial, inoffensive to all extents: the notes are apparently more or less the same, but their texture, their substance is remarkably different. The new Bandit completely lacks in all the smoky, dark, raw animalicness of the vintage versions, its organic dark shadiness, and the thick richness of each note. And obviously, civet and oak moss are just pale echoes in today's version. The smell “seems” somehow similar, so in a way it may be considered kind of decent as they did not apparently reformulate it that much; they just tamed down what had to be tamed down due to regulations and changes in customers' taste. Comparing Bandit today to its vintage ancestors feels like watching a mediocre photograph of a scene, and be where it has been shot – you miss all the palpable “living” feel. Plain and weak, simply put. No evolution of the notes also, they all just become drier and more rubbery. It’s not a disaster, but as much costly as it may appear, if you truly *like* perfumes go for the vintage.
24th December, 2014 (last edited: 25th December, 2014)