Tabac Original (1959)
by Mäurer & Wirtz

I enjoy traditional "old man" scents. Yet to me, Tabac is a creepy old granny scent.

If you would like to smell of a dirty ashtray that has been dusted with baby powder, then Tabac should work fine. I waited around for the drydown's punchline, but time after time, only caught the scent that provoked images of a well powdered and chain-smoking granny.

I don't dislike many fragrances; however, Tabac is definitely one.

23rd October, 2011.

My Father loved this cologne so later in my life i wanted to remember him so i started to ware this one and it reminds me of him every time i ware it for being an inexpensive cologne it actually smells pretty good not my everyday or signature but a once in a while to smell like Dad
why not.........................

4th October, 2011.

I'm a middle-aged "girlie girl" who only wears men's fragrances. They are distinctive and lovely and they do not make me think of the "bubblegum" for women sold in cosmetic departments everywhere . My favorites, and the ones I turn to most often, are Habit Rouge and Guerlain Vetiver. Based on the reviews for Tabac Original, I purchased a small EDC. It wasn't that much of an investment after all. I love it! Very subtle and soft. The first spritz is not so good but within a few minutes (well worth waiting for by the way) it dries down to loveliness.

I think women should wear more men's fragrances-- they ooze taste, confidence and sophistication. Tabac Original is an easy fragrance for a woman.

20th September, 2011.

Well, it is the Opera ball--and I must say that as far as glamour goes, a white-tie affair such as this does rival anything the world has to offer. But what fragrance to wear? There's the confinement of a box to consider, and lots of dancing. The choice of fragrance is as important as the choice of attire, no doubt about that. Here is a secret you readers shall swear to me that will never be repeated, on basenotes or off, as it's terribly embarrassing. I would NEVER "tell." Since you've read this far, you should know that I welcome openly (and encourage!) any daring man's penchant for smelling like a make-up drawer, any independent woman wishing to waft a scent of motor oil. I'm a fair, and democratic sort, so I will divulge something to you. It goes this way. When I was leaving Europe last time, I flew in and out of Amsterdam Schipol. If you don't know already, this must be the most pleasant airport in Europe: It's gorgeous, fun, impeccably clean, and so well thought out that it's amazing more airports aren't built on this paradigm: It was my first time at Schipol. Previously, I had always avoided it, convinced as I was that the security would be mayhem due to drug-related complexities. Well, none of that: the security was flawless, and one kept one's sense of self-worth throughout--a miracle. Ah! The Pragmatic Dutch. They do have a winning way about them. Regardless, I got there four hours before my take off, and, Lo! came to find that I had precisely four hours to kill. Because everything went so smoothly, I barely noticed any of it. Instead, I had a scrumptious Dutch breakfast, and, full of calf's liver pate and cheese, went shopping. Later, I indulged in an amazingly fresh and delicious plate of smoked and raw fish along with some vodka, and shopped some more (result: I now have a beautiful Hermes watch that I love) Since I was quite drunk by my second shopping spree, and happy as a clam, I went into the spectacular Schipol perfumery, where, starry eyed, it became very quickly apparent that they would stock everything anyone could ever want, my prime motivation being that I had not bathed for four straight days--and knew I needed a good dousing of something in order that I not be thrown off the plane for olfactive security reasons! (The apartment in Amsterdam is a very rustic affair: about the size of my dressing room at home, with a "bathroom" consisting of a closet equipped with a Turkish toilet on the floor, and a shower head in the low ceiling above it--only in Amsterdam would this ingenious melting of bodily functions occur. Needless to say, when in Amsterdam, being a bath tub junkie, I do quite a bit of sponge bathing in the kitchen!!!!!) I hate showers--and only have big claw footed tubs at home--Personally, I think showers should be illegal At any rate--I was fully overwhelmed by choice --so It came to light that I was stumped: "What would be good to spray on liberally, without ending up smelling like a back-packing German tourist?" (that "eau de cologne" smell they always seem to have.) Everything I considered seemed too one way, or too the other. Knowing I was going to be on a plane for hours and hours, it was a delicate choice: As delicate as that which concerns the Opera Ball. I noticed already that all over Amsterdam, in all of the perfumeries, something I hadn't seen in years, nor was remotely familiar with, was everywhere--something typically I wouldn't even consider testing--in France it had largely disappeared and that I only remembered from my youth, thinking: "why would anyone want to smell like a "Tabac?" But here it was again in this perfumery, in all its glory--the hideously cheap "Tabac Original" with its white bottle and 70's brown box. I thought: Interesting. They're selling this, which, from my ultra snob French point of view, would be the choice of some beret-wearing "Papi" in a cafe standing at the zinc bar at 8:00am smoking a cigarette and drinking a glass of cheap red wine before going to work as a janitor. Out of sheer perversion, I had to give it a whiff. I stood there looking at the etalage thinking: do I even want to be seen smelling this??? (no joke) There I was, frozen at length--going: "I'm not sure I even want my fingers touching that bottle!" Finally, in a convulsion, I dared, and, looking both ways, furtively sprayed a mouillette...and then...Surprise! I was perfectly enchanted. Walking around the perfumery waving it under my nose, it just kept smelling better and better--Finally--emboldened by the experience, bravely, I walked over, picked up the bottle, and sprayed my wrists, to then turn immediately away and fairly run out of the store, lest someone were to have seen me do it, just as if I had stolen something. All I could think of was the very real prospect that I would be sick and scrubbing away at the basins of the loo in minutes, perhaps even throwing up: At best, breaking out in a scratchy, itchy red rash...Asked by a stewardess to sponge bathe before boarding; all manner of scenarios were whirling in my overly active imagination.
With 90 minutes left to kill, I went back to the bar and ordered another vodka. I had to drink half of it before bringing my wrist to my nose: "I can't believe I have this on my skin!" I thought. Granted, I was pretty drunk by the time I got around to muster the nerve to actually smell it on me, but when I did, I was immediately in love, and knew I had to go and buy it. It took me another vodka to summon the courage return to the shop on a mission, pick up a box, and walk to the check out lane, thinking: "Pray God they wrap it well so that nobody sees that I have bought "Tabac Original." For 16E, I got a 10oz bottle of "eau de cologne." Before leaving the perfumery, figuring at this point I had no dignity left to lose, I passed by the etalage again and sprayed it all over me: In my hair, in the lining of my jacket, on my jeans: With the abandon of a homeless, dirty wanton I covered myself in it, and ran out of the store. Then, the compliments started rolling in. At the very well thought out gate-specific security check, where the guards get somewhat "up close and personal," I was lucky enough to fall upon a very handsome one who, while patting me down, said: "You smell good!" I caught myself turning beat red, and could only manage a wan "Dankuwell." Two hours later air-borne and on the plane, an American lady, seated behind me, flagged me down as I returned to my seat. She looked at me and smiled, then said, in her twang, "Can I just tell you? You smell delicious!" (there was a twinkle in her eye when the word "delicious" sprang forth) Again, I could only turn red and say "Why, Thank you!" But this wasn't all. Being American, the lady was leaving no stone unturned. "What are you wearing?" To this somewhat invasive question--a delicate one considering I was wearing four days worth of skank and about 30ml of cheap-ass eau de cologne--I began to stammer. "Um....Well....You see I....Oh, now, what was it I put on this morning? You know....I think it was "Mouchoir de Monsieur." "Mooosh-war duh Mon-sheur? I've never heard of that!" "Oh, well, it's very hard to get. Only in Paris, you know!" "That figures! It smells great!" "Ehm......(more redness)....Thank you!" So, there you have it, my filthy secret never to be repeated: I think, for the Opera Ball this year, I shall wear "Tabac Original." This little weapons-grade concoction, the identity of which I would never admit publicly, has people regularly stopping me on the street. In social situations, women go crazy, bat their eyes, sniff my neck. Men, with eyes full of hatred, look enviously at me. Very simply put, It's magic. Surprised?

22nd August, 2011.

Crisp, clean and Masculine. What men should smell like at the breakfast table.

EDIT: Review was for the EDC, EDT has a very coppery tone that does not smell anything like the EDC.

3rd June, 2011. (Last Edited: 12nd June, 2011.)

Like this a lot, cheap to buy but with genuine character that you just cannot ignore.

19th March, 2011.