OMG I thought this had been discontinued because I hadn't seen it in years, but apparently it's just gotten a little less expensive.
I liked the female version so much I tried the male and liked it even more, so I bought it for my (ex)husband and I think I wore 3/4 of the bottle myself.
It has a beautiful amber scent and the woody complexity of cognac is also strongly present. The cardiman also manages to make it's presence known the whole time. It is definitely a sweet and spicy scent and I think it's wonderful
That is been my holiday party cologne pre-Pure Malt. There is something to be said about something to be a mainstay perennially for a decade, for me.
The scent is warm and boozy— specifically pepper, cinnamon, and rum— and there is a metallic note that I am not sure what it is specifically.
There is a syrupy note that I am going to assume is the fig accord, and a really synthetic sandalwood note follows it up. Despite the syrupy note, this is a pretty transparent and thin fragrance.
Honestly, I really love this stuff in cold weather, I just wish it was a little higher quality and performed better.
It's understandable that Fremont combined fig leaf, cinnamon, rum, cardamom, and amber, but Claiborne's copper-penny budget obviously didn't allow him to achieve anything extraordinary. This is a common, sweet, cheap-smelling non-entity especially marred by inexpensive woody materials (maybe norlimbanol and javanol) present in much other cheap, crappy aughty men's juice.
Inexpensive it is. Smells 10 times better than most overpriced colognes of similar genre. Well balanced.
It smells more like Santa Claus's breath. Come on, now. You KNOW he's been hitting the hard-stuff on the most hellish-night of the year, right? Then, the fat jolly man decides to eat so much gingerbread and cinnamon candies that his armpits smell like a holly-jolly Christmas. Midway over North America, Santa leans over the side of the sleigh and pukes, showering the wide-eyed kiddies below in his half-digested food. The bitterness of the vomit subsides and all that's left is sickly-sweetness.