Wild Fern (1877)
by Geo F Trumper

Quite similar to Penhaligon’s English Fern, but smoother and in my judgment easier to wear. A good option for those who would like to look at clean scents from a different perspective than the typical modern-feeling clean scents.

A soapy shampoo. Bitter and green. Just clean clean clean before fresh was the new style of fragrance.

Fiercely bitter and unapologetically green, Wild Fern demands to be noticed. Unlike some others I don't get any sweetness or fragrant herbs, I also don't get the impression of the countryside (in the sense of rolling meadows). I know it sounds very specific but I have the image of being in a hillside forest that sees a lot of rainfall. Wild Fern also has quite a soapiness to it, and whilst it's densely green if I hold my nose close to my skin for long enough there is a freshness that comes through, not lemon but something equally bright and tart. So finally I have to say I like Wild Fern, I like it a lot.

In the battle between English Fern by Penhaligon and Wild Fern by Geo. T., I finally and reluctantly decided on the Trumper, although it was close. I love the smell of fern in a man's fragrance, it is so fresh and unique. Department store colognes DO NOT include this scent. The problem is that neither of these lasts very long. Still they are terrific, and in this race, it's the sweet, natural smelling Trumper's Wild Fern by a nose.

Joe

Sometimes simplicity can wear a beautiful face, if only for a moment. Such is the case with Wild Fern. I can't say I'm a sucker for green notes, green clothes, leprechauns, martians, or baby poop, but this one speaks softly and carries a big stick... of basil. WF embodies the color so well I couldn't see Kermit the Frog wearing anything else. Fougere? duh... how can anything with both oakmoss and mossy in the notes be considered anything else? Starts off with a brilliant opening of basil, basil, some thyme, some moss, some more basil, and a bit of freshly cut grass. You would think that with an opening like that it would be extremely dry and astringent, but there is abundant moisture, almost as if you threw the whole herbal lot in the rain for an hour before digging in. As everything settles and the alcohol evaporates it does, as mentioned before, take on a heady lye note. Not quite Irish Spring but relatively close in its sudsy thick heart. Basil is still very much at the forefront, but it is a dry and viscous basil paste, a bit like dried herbal pectin or two day old cement. The closest representation I can come up with would be to lather yourself with a glycerine bar spiked with the herb, then let it dry on you as you sit naked out in the springtime sun. It has long since lost its "refreshing" factor, and although the melody of the top has faded there is still a bit of high percussion keeping the pulse moving. As the drydown completes there isn't really much left of the sparkling topnotes... It has actually become quite boring. This isn't to say that the fragrance has completely abdicated, it has just become content to "be there"... sitting quietly in the corner, minding its own business, and perfectly happy to be unnoticed and alone. I would ardently throw a thumbs up if the first hour was representative of the entire composition, but the joyful smiles of the opening quickly turn into the bored faces of the commuting workforce. Their clothes are still nice and pressed, but their energy left as soon as the exited the house, and probably won't return until they get home. Wild Fern I just wish you would have called in to work and stayed here with me.

Although I think it's fair to expect a fragrance review to be as formally objective and specific as possible, there are times when the evocative nature of scent so overpowers us that we are pushed into the subjective. I wanted to like "Wild Fern," just as I wanted to like Penhaligon's "English Fern," but both are a challenge. This one especially is too reminiscent of certain fathers of another time--very clean, spicier than the more intensely green Penhaligon's, but ultimately a barbershop cliché. That quality can hold a retro appeal for some, and in fact I can imagine this being charming for a teen or young 20-something. But for me it evokes dark memories.