A more robust, spicier version of the original, Christian Dior Eau Sauvage Parfum is typical of the "Parfum" flanker that is a greater concentration of the original. Unfortunately, the Parfum loses the freshness of the original but gains a strength that renders it more apt for wearing in cold weather. Perhaps the Parfum and the original EDT can be worn in cooler and warmer months, respectively.
As far as how it differs from the original scent-wise, in addition to being a little thicker and spicier, there's also a vague sort of anise-like sweetness that is a bit of turn off to my nose.
An interesting enhancement but nothing revolutionary, the Parfum should work wonders for fans of the original that were pining for a heavier performer, but it falls short of inspiring me. I'll adhere to the original, questionable performance and all.
7 out of 10
Eau Sauvage Parfum was released at a time when people were shunning traditional citrus notes and moving toward the misguided trend of bergamot. I say misguided because the early bergamots were friendly, gentle affairs that appealed to the masses. Dior acknowledged that bergamot was the new king of top notes and delivered a rich, natural and high-quality interpretation, but one which has lost mass appeal. This bergamot is suffocating, dark grey like the liquid in the bottle, and no freshness in site. Surely there is also some petitgrain adding to the long lasting sourness of this fragrance.
This is no doubt a stablemate of the still excellent Eau Sauvage EDT, but they do not belong to the same situations. This is an attention-getting patriarchal and domineering fragrance. The wearer demands authority, not compliments.
After an hour it softens, like a nasty school headmaster who finally reveals a softer side. Now the impression of myrrh dominates, initially welcomed. But it's lack of development and its long duration will eventually tire the wearer.
I have worn this over a dozen times now and have concluded That it is a good example of why fragrances that are both simple and rich do not appeal in the long run.
Beauty in simplicity.
I actually got the base and middle notes reversed, the myrrh stayed with me for a long time.
I love it, and unlike the classic older brother, NOT a summer scent.
A myrrh BOMB...and its my signature fragrance. The heaviness...the pure chic-ness...and the hyper-masulinity of its nature, is all in your face and unapoligetic. There is nothing about it, I do not like.
A perfume story: Review of Eau Sauvage by Christian Dior © 2016 Frankie Chocolate
(For all you sexy beasts out there.)
Bob and I were discussing perfumes one afternoon and how they often held so much promise but rarely delivered on those promises. Bob is not from around here.
There was a girl I knew in college. She sat in front of me in English class. She would wear these tight sweaters and Obsession every day till it took all my strength not to crash up from the desk, sweep her up in my arms and smooch the living daylights out of her. I bought some for Bomb Bradshaw and I even put on a tight sweater but it didn’t smell the same.
I remember the sexiest smelling girl I ever met, I told him
Do tell, he replied.
She was something different. She was not Michelle Pfeiffer but there was something naturally attractive about her. I just couldn’t put my finger on it.
Oh. That girl? Oh you silly boy. There wasn’t anything natural about that that girl at all.
But she was the most naturally sensual creature I’d ever met.
Was she? All natural too? That would be worth seeing Franswa. Could we take a look?
How we gonna do that? Go back in time?
No. Said Bob. Not even God can do that. Mm well wait a minute. Come to think of it He violated a thousand laws of nature and man when he was here on earth. Walked on water, turned it into wine, fed the 5,000, raised the dead…I misspoke Franswa. If the creator wanted to go back in time he could do it simple as you walking across the street. But he’d never need too.
Why is that?
Because he already knows everything that gonna happen. He’s there 100% in each second of time. He doesn’t have to go back because he’s already there. Or forward. He said I AM not I was. Does that make sense? You and I would go back in time to change history or for a personal do over. He doesn’t have any regrets to go back and fix.
What about the devil?
What about him?
I’ll bet he wishes he could go back and unmake he devil?
First of all he didn’t make the devil. He made Lucifer. He knew Lucifer would go bad before he made him. So God had him sussed before Sunday. He’s really God’s ape. God allows him to do what he’s going to do so God can turn the bad into something good, even amazing.
I don’t think he shouldn’t have made him.
He made Lucifer good as gold. Bright, beautiful and powerful, full of light, joy and happiness. He became the devil when he chose to turn away from the good. One of God’s specialties is taking something terrible and making something good or even great out of it.
Why? To show off?
Just the exact opposite. Man and angel mess up because they are human and angelic. Not perfect. God already knows we are gonna cheese up and has already got a dozen plans in place to redeem our bad and turn it into something good.
I cheese up pretty bad.
Ever murder the prince of life and glory?
No. Not today.
Okay well the devil did. It was a gazillion time worse than anything you will ever do. It was not a good thing. It was the worst of the worst but God turned it around so Christ death on the cross opened up heaven for anyone who would accept the free gift. He took the very worst and transformed it into the very best. He didn’t orchestrate it so he could pull a rabbit out of his hat. He knew it was coming and already had the parts in play so it would work out the way he wanted.
Whoa. Imagine playing chess with this guy! He’d beat you in one move.
Two moves. Fools mate.
Two moves are the least amount of moves used to win a chess match. It’s called Fool’s Mate.
How in the world could you possibly know…
Wikipedia, said Bob. Use it all the time. You should donate a few bucks once year.
Now getting back to answer your question. We we will not go back in time to look up the girl because no one—but God could do that but we don’t have to. I have something wondrous that will help us. He held up a slip of laminated paper.
A library card? That’s your crystal ball? I don’t get it.
Really Franswa you disappoint me. The public library is a fountain, a reservoir, a wealth of untapped information and discovery.
And how will this show me the past?
It’s a special card. I just have to punch in the numbers.
We’re not actually dialing up the local public library are we?
No. We’re not.
He got out a bright pink Mac Notebook with cute baby animals underneath each letter.
Sorry, it’s my niece’s. I was in a hurry and my battery was dead.
Then by all means I proffered.
His fingers flew across baby lambs, ducks and platypuses. Images flashed across the screen till one flickered then stabilized. I saw my best bud Billy Shmagner.
He didn’t have an easy childhood. His stepfather was a mean old farmer who cared more about the new Steiger tractor he lusted after then the stepson he got in the bargain.
Billy was a bottle of pop shaken up with your thumb on the end. He was happy not because he had an easy or good life. He was happy because he consciously chose joy instead of complaining each day. He was fun and goofy and a lot bigger than me. We were both rail thin because the commune even though it took all the money we made somehow didn’t feed us all that well. We had a lot of adventures, carrying sheet rock, almost getting swept off a mountainside and that sort of thing. So many good memories between the bull and the bear. This one was about the hookers.
We were on the streets of anchorage, the seedy part and Billy boy was witnessing to a hooker. I was amazed at the wall of fire God put around this young man as he’d boldly walk up to the working girls and start telling them God loved them. I didn’t want to go any where near these babes because I was a young man and they looked pretty good to me. Billy didn’t care what they looked like. He had God’s heart and he cared for their souls not their mesh stockings.
So we’re walking the mean frozen streets of Alaska’s biggest city and he’s telling hookers God loves them when they don’t think anyone loves them at all and I’m half a block down praying for him. He finished up and I told him I wished had some money cuz I’d really like a 7-up.
If you want one why don’t you just ask God for it?
God is not gonna give me a 7-up.
Cuz he doesn’t want me to have one.
Because they are bad for you and we give all our money to the commune and I ain’t even got a cent for a pair of shoelaces or can of pop.
I think you need more faith Frankster
I need a lot of things. Right now I need a pop.
Billy sighed patiently, looked up to heaven and said, “Dear Jesus would you please get us some pop up in here so Frankie here can grow in his faith.”
Thanks Bill. That was really thirst quenching.
Three minutes later a longhaired free spirit walked down the road and engaged Billster in a conversation about the universe. Billy’s nodding his head trying hard to track with this guy but he’s really out there.
Yeah. Uh huh. Okay freak. I never thought about it that way.
Suddenly the dawn rose in his brain and he said, “I just bought this six pack of 7-up and after one can I don’t even want it any more. Do you want the rest?
Billy must ‘a been from Chicago because he never let on. Just as smooth as silk he said, “Yeah, I guess maybe that would be okay” like he’s doing the guy a solid.
So free spirit floats off into the dim grey afternoon and Billy boy gave me a little smile, held up the five pack and said, “See. You just need a little faith.” He bowed his head and thanked our God on accounta a fiver of 7-up isn’t something desperate like needing a kidney or hair plug transplants but He’s a lavish God and in spite of my unbelief he popped for the pop. He’s done that more than a few times I think.
I slammed two cans down and we’re walking across the street when this girl with dark hair comes outta somewhere and passes us on the right.
I’m in robo evangel mode so I blurt out, “Jesus loves you.” It wasn’t my finest work but I had a short window and the last thing I wanted on judgment day for the Big Guy to roll this tape and freeze frame it here and say, “There. There was the opportunity I set up for you and you breezed past it chugging Mountain Dew. I put her right in your path and you just let her walk on into hell. At this point I don’t want to correct the Almighty and tell him it was 7-up so I hunker down cuz I already know what’s coming next.
I had it all set up so this girl would repent and take over Mother Teresa’s slot and win everyone in Brooklyn to Christ and you couldn’t cough up a hello?
All this flashed through my sugar soaked brain –I’m sure it was my Catholic guilt kicking in too—so as we walked past her so I blurted out Jesus Loves you as a Hail Mary and hoped His tape machine won’t get this incident and if it does Michael the Arc will start humming amazing grace or something.
Her answer was one a condescending adult would give a child. “I’ve never needed God and my life is amazing.“
As she walked past us our nostrils flared and our eyes grew wide. A wave of sensuality and animalistic desire washed over us like Lake Michigan waves across Lake Shore Drive in a summer storm.
We looked at each other and said, “Did you catch that? What was that?”
I watched her walk down the block and felt a pang of regret as she turned a corner.
Bob stopped the vid and asked me, “ What did you see? What did you experience Franswa?
She was mid twenties. Brunette with short waved hair. Chubby cute. Good teeth. Jeans, a top hidden because of her black puffy jacket and scarf. Ok but nothing to make a bishop kick a hole though a stain glass window.
Very good. Now lets have a closer look, said the Bobster.
The sound was turned off. He backed up the vid so we were all walking backwards till he got to the point where she had just answered me and froze it there with her eyes half closed. He hit the frog key on the keyboard and a fragrance came up out of the computer. It brought back memoires.
Is that the smell you smelled Franswa?
That’s it exactly. How’d you do that? That is the most natural sexiest smell that could ever be. I smell that and I want to sweep the girl off her feet and have my way with her. I want perfume that smells like that!
He smiled a little smile and pressed on.
That my little crumb cake was the smell of sex in the afternoon.
I never smelled sex like that.
Mm. I wonder? He hit some more animal keys and then zoomed in on the woman’s back and where she had just passed.
Humming a snatch of Crocodile Rock he changed a filter so the image turned deep red. I squealed and jumped back half over the couch I was sitting in.
Firmly attached to this woman’s back was a grey malnourished demon that snarled at us. From him and her came the odor I’d just found so enticing.
There you go Franswa.
Where I go? Get rid of the demon. Can he see us?
He knows someone is watching him but not whom. Pay him no mind. He’s an imp of no account. But here is the reason you found this girl so irresistible.
This young woman had just come from an afternoon tryst. It had been fierce, prolonged and beyond intense. But it as more than afterglow you were picking up. This wretched creature had been in the room with them. Demons get off on sex probably because they can’t have any so they sometimes enflame people then get their kicks watching them go at it like dogs in heat. Faster faster rover. There’s a bad dog. Faster Rover faster.
So as the young lady fresh from her illicit encounter walked past you she was high from what she though was the best sex in her life. With sex like this who needs God so she gave you a carefree flippant answer. As she walked by the demon—this one’s name is Filth recognized you as belonging to Jesus so he shot out most of the pheromone he had saved up just to get your tongues hanging out. He later showed the tape of you looking with longing as the girl walked around the corner and tried to bring accusations against you but it didn’t stick.
Anyone dowsed with that much electrically charged pheromone and lust would have felt some stirrings. It’s the kind of lust that comes on like a flash flood from hell. It calls to you sweeping away all reason and restraint. It twists in your gut like a dull knife and you want more of the blade. You want all of it. In a half moment you go from Mort Milquetoast to a raving fiend that wants to plumb the depths of depravity and put in six sub basements.
So you see my little lump nut there was nothing natural about that girl at all. She probably even died her hair and what you experienced was only human desire amplified a thousand fold by a devil that should know better.
So it wasn’t real? All natural? Was any of it real?
The girl was real. The pheromones were real.
But that was the sexiest thing I’ve ever smelled. I want to be sexy.
How about just spraying on some Eau Sauvage.
Bergamot, Myrrh, Vetiver? I lifted it from my darkened shelf. An almost squat ribbed oblong bottle with a black belt and knurled cap. It was the sexiest thing I owed. I sprayed on three shots and suddenly I was ten feet tall and bulletproof. Look at me. I’m a sexy beast. Bob laughed and went home. He’s not from around here. The end.