Reviews of No. 88 (1981)
by Czech & Speake

I smell patchouli and roses. Has a strange urine-like note right there in the beginning but it's easily ignored. Though, the rest of it is dark, woody and surprisingly masculine. The rose smooths everything. More of a night-out scent. It's good but not my style at all.

After all the hype, I was left feeling very disappointed. The opening notes are amazing but it all went quickly downhill from there. The composition has a classic barbershop feel to it but it lacks the longevity and sillage that everyone's been raving about. There's also something quintessentially English (or even old-fashioned) about it that simply doesn’t appeal to me. As a result, I found it impossible to find an emotional connection with No. 88 - maybe it’s the Victorian / colonial undertones that runs through the very heart of this creation but, then again, it could be because it’s too timid and apologetic for my tastes.

Personally, I prefer something stronger, more contemporary and with a greater sexual edge than No. 88, and I’ve managed to find all of these characteristics (and more) in Montale’s Black Aoud. They may not be exactly the same creations but they definitely work on a very similar premise.

Very Nicely made scent, but not quite my thing. I've worn this scent a few times, from a decant, and on my body it seems very floral and feminine, with a very slight musk to it. I believe this scent has a wonderful smell to it, but it makes me feel like I'm wearing feminine Men's cologne, or a masculine perfume, rather than actually wearing a Men's cologne.

I have the same sort of respect for this fragrance that a school boy has for the bully that kicks his ass every day.

High quality scent but not my cup of tea. Smells like roses in the morning after a long rainy night. It might be perfect for you if you like the smell of roses, but for me it lacks the sweetness that I crave in fragrances. It lasts long for a fresh scent due to its high oil content. Oh, and in case you're wondering, it's not a chick magnet or something you would typically wear to a club IMO.

The Baron de Charlus once told me: 'I recall the time when I was a house guest at the country estate of Ozzie Osborne (or Osbert as I insisted on calling him for reasons of decorum). He gave us each a bottle of Czech & Speake No. 88.
"De Charlus, you old c***," croaked the poete maudit of rock music turned national treasure, "what the f*** do you think of this f****** fragrance? Is it good shit, bad shit, or indifferent?" "My dear Osbert," I responded, "what we have here is poetry of the coffin laced with infinite solitude and emptiness. It would not be erroneous to describe it as embodying a metaphysical menace. You have to admire its evocative qualities, this strange, left-handed cousin of Messe de Minuit, itself a fairly odd and deathly scent. Personally I would shudder to wear either. I also feel that it is totally inappropriate for your good self. Given your curious combination of histrionics, vagueness and blokeishness, I feel you would be far better suited by a combination of Joop, Latitude Longitude and Marbert Man. Then you would smell like a proper f****** c***."
My host, I fear, was distinctly unimpressed by judgement and proceeded to unleash on me his whole menagerie: wife, cats, dogs, children, musicians and bats out of hell.'