This stuff is just really bad,smells like there is some cat piss in it.Just cannot stand this at all....
08th July, 2015 (last edited: 18th July, 2015)
Deliciously weird stuff!MUSC RAVAGEUR is definitely one of the sexiest unisex perfume i've ever experienced.A unique,oriental and mysterious scent will grab your attention might miss its mark for unisex appeal,this is a winner.it makes for a sensual experience that tingles your intelligence as much as your sweet tooth.sensual and sexy in a classy way. more than two sprays of this will land you in trouble,so be very careful when applying. Sweet, Hot,Provocative,Irresistible,Sophisticated,Rich, Strong and Attractive.
This should definitely give you a shock when you first try the fragrance,after marveling at how unusual this opening is,you'll soon notice cinnamon in the heart.the notes turn sweeter and warm by vanilla and amber.the result for men is a very good evening getter for the ladies.intrigues woman that walk near you and leaves a unique lasting impression and the result for women is a sexy smell that just makes she want to bury her head in his neck and take a deep breath.Yes an absolutely winner in both the men and ladies.perfect for a hot winter night.
Longevity?Lasts and lasts.
I so want this to be the post-coital cinnamon roll that everyone describes. While I might not wear it, I wouldn't mind experiencing it, or keeping it for "special occasions." On me, however, it was a squeaky clean laundry detergent musk with a few fresh spices poking through occasionally. Thoroughly safe, sane and even quite pleasant. But what if other people smell the rutting stench of a dessert-fueled orgy, while I go around thinking I smell of fabric softener? Not sure if I want to risk that. I may try it again, in different weather, to see if it works its magic on me. Right now, however, the secretion-soaked bed sheets have been laundered and the pastry dishes washed up and stacked in the pantry, everything as neat as a pin.
Musc Ravageur is a big ole sex musk with a leer on its face. Luca Turin says it’s more flashy than good, and I’d agree, but then again, I don’t think Musc Ravageur takes itself all that seriously to begin with. It’s a musk with bedroom eyes and an Adam’s apple.
The more I wear it, the more I think of it as the male equivalent of Shalimar. It’s a big-boned oriental at heart, a crude, deconstructed version of the older versions of Shalimar extrait – all rude body musks, thick vanilla, and butter-like tonka. Objectionably rich, and quite pungent in parts.
Even the top notes of Musc Ravageur share a certain barbershoppy feel with Shalimar: in Musc Ravageur, it’s lavender and cloves, and in Shalimar, it’s something like herbes de Provence (thyme?). Perhaps that’s why so many men find the opening challenging – the pungent spices, dirty musk, and sweet vanilla churning their stomachs in a way they can’t handle.
But I’m a Shalimar girl all the way, baby, so this is familiar territory for me. People either hate the opening and love the dry down, or wish that the rough opening would last all the way through – me, I love every part of Musc Ravageur from front to end.
It smells like someone rubbed a vanilla-glazed Cinnabon across the sweaty perineum of a man who hadn’t washed for a few days. Hot, sweet, a bit dirty (in a good way). The combination of the rich, sweet vanilla, tonka, and sandalwood in the base is to die for, no matter where you stand on the exact dirtiness of the musk at the start.
I used to think that it was too loud and too dirty for a lady to be wearing outside the house. But then I realized that the Shalimar extrait I wear is pretty dirty and I wear that out of the house all the time. I think I bought into the hype about this being a disgusting, filthy, old-man kind of smell. Now, I just think it’s a fabulous gourmand musk/oriental that’s both sexy and comfortable. Vulgar? Yeah. Hell yeah! And so what! A bit of vulgarity never hurt nobody.
L de Lolita defined my fear of the gourmand genre. Thick scents of chocolate dessert are coupled with musks and ambers, both of which are known for their fixative properties. Amber 'fixes' the gourmand quality of L de Lolita the way concrete shoes 'set' in a mafia fable before you're thrown in the river.
Wearing L de Lolita could well be a Catholic-school lesson on the sin of gluttony and the threats of eternal hell. The anticipation draws you close, the titilation makes you give in, the satisfaction is the pleasure you've been denied. Then you continue to eat, unable to control yourself, long past the point of nausea and revulsion. Jaques Guerlain gave a seminar on the line between plenty and excess when he took Shalimar close to crème brulée, but then pulled back. The value of gourmand notes is in the suggestion or the temptation, not in the pudding. L de Lolita demonstrates the lesson by failing it and falling into the more-is-better trap.
So if L de Lolita (2006) is a sin against god, does Musc Ravageur (2000) have a more original sin?
I experienced Roucel's trio out of sequence. I first smelled Labdanum 18 (2006), then L de Lolita (2006) and finally Musc Ravageur (2000). I hadn't known that the same perfumer made all three, nor had I known that the two 2006 perfumes were derived from Musc Ravageur. Now I understand who's who, or better, who's the flanker.
Musc Ravageur is the template. The other two variations were made by turning up and down the volume of specific notes of the original. Labdanum 18 skips the aromatic topnotes but overdoses the sweet vanilla and powdery musk. Without the loud aromatic topnotes of Musc Ravageur, Labdanum18 feels listless by comparison, yet is famously le Labo's best seller. If Labdanum was made by subtraction, L de Lolita relies on the addition of chocolate and maple syrup to distinguish itself. The classic vanilla 'oriental' is given the chocolate-steroid treatment and the bergamot topnote of Musc Ravageur is twisted into a candied orange. Piling a maple syrup/imortelle/fenugreek note on top of the chocolate makes L de Lolita a Frankenstein-Gourmand and poster-child for the excesses of gourmand perfumery.
L de Lolita is so egregious that having smelled it a number of times seven years ago it tainted my experience of Musc Ravageur. This week I wore Musc Ravageur for the first time. I wore it three days in a row, haunted by the anticipation of recognition that wouldn't come. While distracted, the flashback to L de Lolita struck me in the gut and having made the connection, there's no turning back.
How might I have experienced Musc Ravageur if I hadn't first been affected by L de Lolita? We all arrive to a perfume with our bags packed, but the recycling of ideas across different lines without marketing the subsequent perfumes as flankers muddies the waters. Maybe I've been damaged by the Lolita perfume association and have made the jump to Nabokov's Lolita. With its effusive barbershop masculine reference and smarmy musky-amber sweetness Musc Ravageur reads like the perfume a stereotypical dirty old man would wear.
(Please don't take my 'kitchen sink' quibble with Musc Ravaguer as a blanket criticism. I'm all for excess in perfumery generally and in Roucel's work specifically. He's used it to great success in Guerlain Insolence, Hermès 24, Faubourg, Missoni by Missoni and Gucci Envy.)