H.O.T. Always (2003)
by Bond No. 9

So freaking sexy, sultry, and HOT! I love it...Not just for MEN!

30th May, 2011.

Well made. To me, this smells slightly like SMN's Melograno, which I love, but it smells SOPHISTICATED and dressy. There is tobacco a slight bit, a bit of leather, and patchouli. This fragrance it outstanding and wearable everyday.

1st May, 2011.

I Sworn to God that I would never have written another review for a Bond N.9 scent...and look at me now! I decided to give H.O.T. Always a chance just because I'm into leather fragrances and wanted to see if I could find at least one perfume from this house that I like. No way! A big and loud Patchouli note positioned on a banal leather accord. Besides what Luca Turin says it totally smells like someone using a bong. Maybe a crystal, handmade one, but still a bong.

If you prefer, let's put it like this. An agè lady from the enlightened "petite bourgeoisie" who doesn't color her hair, dresses with expensive organic cotton / hemp clothes, and love macrobiotic food. The smell of a rich hippy.

16th April, 2011. (Last Edited: 19th April, 2011.)

Fantastic masculine patchouli scent for those special days of the year where you want to make an impact in your life...

Great longevity and sillage...as with most Bond no 9 scents...!!!

Big thumbs up...!

2nd March, 2011.

Imagine if you will that, after much trepidation and changings of the heart, you find yourself making a somewhat sway-footed entrance into a dark and pulsating psychadellic rave. You thought it through, viewing it from both ends of the moral spectrum, and, having finally pulled yourself together, you suck it up and decide to dare: After all, a walk on the wild side, once in a while, can not do too much harm, and lately, you've been so good. Upon furtively entering, you cannot shake the tingly sensation that courses through your body as you unexpectedly come to face a long, dimly lit set of seemingly unending stairs that plunge sharply down, straight into a riot of flashing lights, deafening music, and a cloud of thick, curiously smelling smoke. Frozen there, you hesitate a moment, turn around, and go back outside. Stranded now in the frozen quiet of a piss laden back alley strewn with rubbish, you look up to see towering high above the roofs and chimneys the ornate and gilded twin spires of a massive cathedral, with bronze cruciforms turned verdant atop their soaring peaks. A panic descends on you: Your taxi has long gone, you're alone, in a strange neighborhood, you're shivering with cold, you want to turn back. Gazing up at the awesome medieval structure yawning above, you hear the echo of an ancient prayer bounce back and forth inside your head: "Holy God, Holy Mighty, Holy Immortal, have mercy on me." And again: "Holy God Holy Mighty Holy Immortal, have mercy on me." A kind of confusion overtakes you--you thought through and put on the outfit, you came all the way across town in the dark dead of winter, ready to let loose, and now you're slowly turning to ice, standing alone in a damp and chill back alley losing your nerve as the smell of urine and the bitter cold bite ferociously at your nostrils. Searching out the saving grace of an errant taxi proves useless, so, remembering the lucky cigarette rule, you reach into your pocket to fire one up, hoping a magical ride home will suddenly appear as soon as it is lit, as often in the past this little trick has done you well. flicking open your cigarette case, a small white pill falls out of it, onto the ground, and you stand motionless watching as it slowly absorbs the half frozen slush of piss and filth at your feet. Damn! In a sudden burst of courage, you bend down, pick it up, and slip it under your tongue, fighting the revulsion of its acrid taste and the nauseating implications of its unexpectedly dank and germ-ridden provenance.
As it dissolves, filling your mouth with a metallic taste, your heart begins to pound wildly from deep within your breast, as the shock of knowing there will henceforth be no turning back sets in. You light that cigarette, if only to alter the vile, acrid taste fast filling your mouth. One puff. Two puffs. You look at it, then flick it away in disgust.
You're going in. The welcome warmth of indoors feels like the embrace of a lover; the steep descent of the stairwell now beckons with heat, light, and fragrant vapors amid swirling beats that pummel and pound through the frozen muscles in your neck, on your face, and through your head like comforting jets of warmth. The air becomes hotter as you descend, each step bringing you closer to the strobing lights and the swirling smoke. Down. Down. Down and you're inside the pulsating music, fear and trepidation forgotten. You step into a grassy confusion of sweating flesh, a forest of sound, feeling limbs like roots encircle your arms, slide around your neck, all joining together to pull you into a phantasmagorical tidal wave of sensation, with all your senses engaged: Your feet feel as though they are walking bare upon a lush carpet of temperate grass, while your hands seem to be exploring, digging through damp depths of soil and earth; your mouth opens to welcome probing tongues, all warm, slick, and furry with minute bristles and delicious pricks. Lift off, and the universe unravels before you. one last look over your shoulder and you have no regrets, no desire to turn back.
Your floating now, through the writhing rhythm of an orgiastic parade of hot, sweating bodies, consumed by the fires of moist, molten flesh, melting, clinging and clamped onto you, alive and deeply breathing in camphorous air forcefully exhaled from the lungs of others, then passed on by you, around and around, over and over, the same vapors grow heavier and heavier with smoke, until your mouth and nose seem to avidly suck in a kind of powder, then syphon in liquid, until you find yourself immersed in a transparent gel where everything slowly plays in to slow mo, and harsh strobing lights previously flashing in vibrant shades now softly twinkle in all the delicate hues of heaven: You're flying now, mysteriously held up by fingers that feel like feathers through pastel clouds of shimmery, gossamer haze. The startlingly novel sensation of just one half gulp of cold, fresh air amid a sudden wallop of hissing silence finds you inexplicably standing again, on earthbound feet, your eyes clamped shut, your arms wrapped around a massive, towering human frame, itself draped in the soft, protective
warmth of a cloak. You open your eyes to find you're being held in the steadfast embrace of a man, all bundled up with scarf, and gloves, your bare hands buried deep inside the pockets of his coat. Looking up you find a pair of piercing blue eyes gazing down at you through the dawning light, and that unmistakeable smile that will form on the lips of a lover newly found. Inside the pocket, where your hand has sought refuge from the cold, you feel a smooth object, mysteriously shaped. Pulling it out, it falls to the ground, into the freshly fallen white powder of virgin snow: A crystal star. Bending down to pick it up you examine it closely, reading the words chiseled there on: H.O.T. ALWAYS.

31st December, 2010.

For those who can't score a bottle of the vintage version of Givenchy Gentleman, this is a good alternative. The similarities are many and obvious: it's a very strong patchouli fragrance with a dirty, sweaty civet base. The only real difference I detect is that HOT Always is a bit rougher around the edges than Gentleman. Whereas Gentleman's patchouli and civet accord was seamless and smooth but spicy, HOT is rugged and the notes do not blend as seamlessly as in Gentleman.

Nonetheless, this is bold, daring stuff. You'll be pumping out major clouds of sillage all day with this if you apply liberally, and the smell will not go away. In spite of Bond No. 9's unisex image, HOT Always is a macho, almost brash, fragrance. It takes some guts to wear a fragrance with as much in your face patchouli as this.

I plan on getting a bottle of this as soon as my bottle of vintage Gentleman runs out. This is excellent stuff.

MY RATING: 8/10

26th July, 2010.