
I almost want to call this one Jaipur l'Homme, because it rolls right off the tongue so sweetly. A name really can make or break the magnificence of the fragrance; names are all too common nowadays in the mainstream world. Surrounded by the Unforgiveables, the Obsessions, the Blacks, Double Blacks, Cool Waters, "For Him"'s, and the Reactions, a name like "Jaipur l'Homme" holds alot of promise. The harder it is to pronounce, the sexier it sounds. Don't believe me? Try telling a girl you're wearing "Angeliques Sous La Pluie" when she's going nuts over your scent, as opposed to saying "Armani Code". Sure, there's a huge difference in price, but that's just Frederic Malles we're talking about, so there's not many comparisons
So, with an exquisite name like Jaipur, let's see if this scent is up to the challenge of defending a unique name with an equally unique fragrance. The first and foremost quality that needs to be recognized is the fact that Jaipur is, plain and simple, vanilla done PROPERLY. It's not deep, provocative, spicy, rich, nor does it contain the oscillation of notes that many others do. It's relatively plain and straightforward; the vanilla is countered with a transparent cinnamon touch, and anchored to reality by amber and clove. These notes don't add their own sparkle or twist in the scent; rather, they work behind the scenes to contain the epic vanilla note, and deliver it in a safe fashion. It's linear, non-aggressive, boasting of a single essence, and the ingredients are too close in notation to add any diversity to the scent -- but you know what? That's what makes this so magnificent.
If fragrances were musical pieces, you'd have your Beethovens, Vivaldis, and maybe some Elton Johns (haha?) of the lot -- and then you'd have this. A straightforward, soothing piece that Buddhist monks could meditate to. Jaipur is the gentle rain, lightly tapping the windows in a melodic, relaxing fashion that never gets old. The vanilla, in itself, is such a beauty, that it would be destroyed if it stood out. It doesn't make sense to wear it to a party, nor does it make sense if you want to stand out or be recognized for how you smell; but, as mentioned above, that's what makes this SO magnificent. It's the coffee-house fragrance; the thing you wear when it's chilly outside, and you're going to a cafe with your friends. For those of you who know vanilla, you can agree that as soon as you walk into a cafe where scones, biscuits, coffee, and tea are served; the potential of Jaipur is going to be unleashed. It's not a violent or heavy fragrance, but given just the right circumstances, it's one of the most pleasing on the nose. It's warm, soft, rich and pure in texture; the vanilla you want envelop your crush when you give her a warm hug and only she gets a whiff of one of the most breathtaking vanilla scents ever composed.
I love this scent, I really do. And it pains me to say what I'm about to say... Jaipur is a heartbreaking let-down. The longevity is terrible, and the sillage is worthless; I can hardly smell it on my own skin after I spray it, and step back to inhale lingering traces of evaporating scent. Nevermind that when you put on your clothes, you had better sprayed at least 6-7 spritzes on various hotspots so that what little scent is noticeable evaporates nicely from your skin. Like Nightflight, by Joop, this scent is very hard to wear in the right occasion... except, with Nightflight, that's a good thing. I want nothing more than to be able to wear Jaipur every single day, but it's simply not possible. It's not strong enough, nor is it smooth enough to be in-your-face without attitude, so finding the right occasion is painfully difficult. It almost makes wearing it not worth it, because it's literally a gamble every time you do.
However, in the midst of all of the downfalls, I still would own this bottle rather than not. I love the soothing quality, and the warm aroma that can be so blissful and welcoming. For the very light waft that you're blessed with every now and then, Jaipur is a reminder to us all that good things come in moderation.