Fragrance Reviews by nthny

I enjoy amber fragrances very much and to me, Ambre Soie is very different from any I've tried so far. On me, Ambre Soie starts off deliciously gourmand, with an almost boozy oatmeal cookie effect, complete with raisins, cinnamon and a hint of anise and clove. The spices in Ambre Soie are rendered so seemlessly, so dense and finely ground into a luxuriously silky "powder", that they create an indistinguishable bond with the amber so as to make it impossible for me to discern one from the other. Linear, lasts several hours, and I assume based on compliments received that it projects fairly well. I received this during the whole discount store Armani Prive sale madness and for that reason, I occasionally overlook it, but it is really an incredibly gorgeous, luxuriously textured fragrance.

Aomassai didn't impress me initially. I originally found the caramel opening lacking in richness, as if caramel syrup were cut 50/50 with water, a very strange sensation. But I came to appreciate the way this less intense sweetness melds so seamlessly with a grassy accord which I can't say is the straight up vetiver note I've come to know. No, this really smells like grass, but again, smoothed out, almost watered down -- a painting in water colors. Toasted hazelnuts, watery grass and watered down caramel whose warm, burnt notes come into focus later on in the development, soft spice, silky woods: The result is a very intriguing, modern, somehow sophisticated and chic combination. This grassy accord, I just can't get enough of how oddly satisfying it is juxtaposed, or I should technically say, woven into, these softly sweet gourmand notes.

I also thought of Mechant Loup while trying to get at the heart of this fragrance. Though they don't smell alike, I think Mechant Loup is an easy fragrance to draw a parallel with to a certain degree because they have a similar "weight" (come to think of it, Aomassai has a very L'Artisan sensibility while retaining commendable lasting power) and they both have gourmand notes and a gourmand feel but intriguingly, they are initially not warm fragrances, but rather, almost cool, wistful, melancholic, evocative of something outside their sweet notes. I know I'm falling prey to the perfumer's description of his own scent but when I wear this, I do feel transported somehow to a vast, open African plane, sitting in the tall grass, the wind carrying something sweet, burnt, cooking above a distant fire. I'm sold. Aomassai is not only a wonderful work of art but also an incredibly satisfying, wearable and versatile fragrance.

I find Kyoto to be complex, dark, and even mysterious. It nearly gives me a chill in the way it makes me feel as if I'm in an unknown place, like the sensation (not the smell necessarily) of walking alone in the woods, almost Twin Peaks-like in tone.

My first thought when I sniffed Kyoto, apart from the very evident cedar impression, was that there was a coffee note in it -- a dark, somewhat sour, stale coffee note which may have been Duchaufour's way of muting the cedar creating an aged, antique quality. It starts off unassuming on the skin, soft, wispy, etherial, and I can understand why some describe it this way, but at least on my skin, as it begins to dry, the fragrance intensifies. The coffee and woods envelop an accord I can only describe as faintly reminiscent of mosquito repellent (perhaps a result of the cypress oil, teak wood accord or vetiver somehow, I'm just not sure). I haven't seen this mentioned here but the reviews on MUA and elsewhere mention the sensation and one reviewer names citronella which I think is a pretty good description. It's sour, but not off-putting. For me it only adds to the mysteriously calm, meditative aura of Kyoto. And honestly, this is where Kyoto reposes, maintaining this balancing act throughout its duration. Reading the other notes, including immoretelle (everlasting flower) and vetiver, I can imagine the parts they play in the fragrance but they are not evident alone in the composition to me.

I went to Comme des Garcons to pick one Series 3 fragrance and I was almost certain it was going to be Zagorsk based on previous sampling. After some testing, and now with Kyoto on my mind, I decided on the woody, spicy Jaisalmer, but still needed time to be sure. Walking around that day and into the night with all five fragrances on my arms, I was haunted by Kyoto's presence and decided I needed even more time. A week later I conducted the same experiment, left the store and as soon as I walked outside Kyoto gripped me again, transporting me to that strange, quiet, lonely, meditative place, and after about a block I turned around and purchased it without a second thought. I may experience it differently than others but I find Kyoto to be a fascinating three-dimensional fragrance journey.

My initial impression of Patchouli Leaves actually annoys me in retrospect. I asked myself, "who would pay $200 for patchouli oil that I can buy for $10 at that "decorative glass pipes" shop downtown?" Please... I roll my eyes at myself. This is an intoxicating, bewitching fragrance, and I would feel very confident in recommending Patchouli Leaves to someone looking for the ultimate patchouli fragrance. While patchouli is what it's all about here, it is combined so artfully and seamlessly with its supporting notes (especially amber) that it remains interesting to the end, without becoming overly complicated or bogged down.

I am happy I received a decant of this in a glass vial so that I am able to see how deep, dark, brown, oily and intense the fragrance looks, because that's how it smells, too. Opening with that big, round, enveloping, oily, earthy patchouli that we all know, it slowly morphs into something much more interesting, much more delectable. Experiencing the amber and vanilla interact with the patchouli in this fragrance is like viewing two opposing colors on opposite sides of a spectrum which bleed into each other as the colors mesh in the center. We start with patchouli and end with a slightly vanillic amber and are able to experience every beautiful moment of the transformation in between, like watching a cell divide. To all of this add the resinous qualities brought by cistus... yum! I notice the fragrance literally, all day. And while the little metamorphosis to which I referred earlier is most noticeable up close (as is the cistus) I can detect these changes throughout the day without having to actively sniff my arms. That is great!

I love patchouli so this fragrance REALLY does it for me. If you are an amber and/or patchouli lover, Patchouli Leaves is not to be missed.

Blue Amber starts with something that turned me off (and still sort of does) which teeters between astringent and chemical. I read a review at MUA and a reviewer mentioned glue... I can't say glue exactly but it's something in that direction. With reviews mentioning plastic, chemical, and glue, there must be something going on, and having read other's thoughts on that sensation, I felt less insane in having experienced that myself. Thankfully, for me personally, that little phase doesn't last too long. And furthermore, it's only experienced up close: Blue Amber, without my nose glued to my wrist, starts billowing golden curling tendrils of itself immediately which are devoid of this astringency I mentioned.

I'm thankful I allowed this to really develop because after the first couple of hourse, this continues to develop, become more exquisitely rich yet dry until it reposes in it's golden brown phase. After that, it continues to works its golden ambery magic, but without changing too much. And herein lies the beauty of Blue Amber, my friends. The golden cloud of amber that floats around you throughout the day, that which about others have written here and elsewhere, is an undeniable feature of this gorgeous fragrance. It is an envelopingly warm, light golden brown amber, whose vanillic, warm, dry sugaryness intensifies as it develops while never becoming syrupy or heavy. For texture purposes only, think perhaps of warm, slightly crisp sugar cookies.

I sincerely encourage anyone who tries Blue Amber to give it several hours on skin before making a judgment. Any discord you may experience at the opening, I assure you, will dissipate and you'll be left with an amber, though simple and uncomplicated, to die for. I'd like to add that on me, this was extremely powerful and tenacious. I could imagine a 50 mL lasting forever. I am aware of it all day. A tad tricky up front, with a gorgeous dry down which is well worth the wait. I can't recommend this more to those looking for a warm, uncomplicated, enveloping high quality amber.

Patchouli is a favorite ingredient of mine without a doubt, but I don't consider this a patchouli fragrance necessarily. That is, I guess, by the name, it would be hard for someone to imagine what this fragrance will be like. Patchouli as an ingredient brings many other fragrances to mind such as Borneo 1834, Givenchy Gentleman, Patchouli Leaves, or Real Patchouly among others. But I don't see Luxe: Patchouli belonging in that group... Where I do see it belonging is with the immortelle fragrances which I love so much including Sables, Eau Noir, and I suppose I'll include the over the top and slightly messy Fougere Bengale. Ok, so in this case the sensation is fenugreek and not immortelle, but the sensation is similar -- the golden, richness that is like being surrounded by a thick syrup, dark ambery golden brown in color, and very very warm but with fenugreek, the sensation is more on the side of sweet hay.

So yes, the patchouli is there, always. But it so well blended that it adds a hue to every other ingredient rather than sitting on top of the composition supported by the other notes. To my nose, the fenugreek sensation (that syrup mixed with curry and hay, sprinkled with a .05 mm layer, just the smallest hint of a dusting of anise) is the star, and it paints a picture in my mind of a flowing river of golden syrup with ribbons of purple and green silk (the green is the leafy patchouli sensation, the purple, the curried anise impression). The great thing about this is that it's all countered by some real grit... a wonderful earthy, woody, herbal texture that ends up being enveloped by the dense, dark, syrupy sweet curried elements of the fragrance and brings it into perfect balance.

The luxe nature of Luxe: Patchouli comes from the opulence of textures and sensations. There isn't a bright, whimsical, crisp or lightly textured moment in the fragrance journey, which incidentally lasts a full day. That said, there is nothing unbalanced, aloof, or over-the-top about it either. It's a baroque painting: dark, rich hues of brown, gold, dark, earthy greens, rich dark reds and purples and so in a way, that to me explains this uber luxurious feel. It's tone is gothic yet modern.

A funny story about Dzing! that will eventually turn into a review: I took my L'Artisan samples to my sister's house so we could share them and my nephews were there bouncing off the walls and being silly in general but those children LOVE smelling things... so my sister and I began opening the samples and dabbing, etc, and of course the kids came over and I put Dzing! on my oldest nephew (age six) and explained that it was meant to smell of the circus. My sister, "OH MY GOSH IT DOESSS!!! EWWW! (while laughing)." My nephew, "I SMELL LIKE A HORSE!! I SMELL LIKE A HORSE!!" and then he chased my younger nephew (age three) around forcing him to smell his horse-smelling hand. It all went downhill from there but I digress...

What I personally think Dzing! smells like is the smell of those giant metal permanent markers with the big black wedge tip at the top, mixed with vanilla. It also occurred to me that it is, especially after having it on skin for a while, reminiscent of Bulgari Black but softer and more refined. There's something rubbery and leathery about Dzing! and that's where I think the imagery of animal arises but it's softened so delicately with vanilla that it's hard to call this a monster of an animalic perfume. That said, I'd challenge anyone to have Dzing! in his or her memory banks and pass a horse-drawn carriage and stables and NOT see from where Olivia Jacobetti drew her inspiration. While it doesn't smell exactly like a horse or its living quarters, the idea is there and it would take a real fragrance curmudgeon to not give in to that imagery at least a little bit.

The L'Artisan carded sample says, "A fragrance soft and fierce... Very wild very sweet!" and I think that's a nice way of describing Dzing!, although I don't think there's anything "very" about the fragrance. It's actually kind of mild in its intrigue and uniqueness, perfectly at home in the L'Artisan house of fragrances that rarely, if ever, speak indoors with their outdoor voices.

If anyone has read my reviews before they know I don't generally take them lightly, but... this smells like green Palmolive. As a matter of fact, it doesn't smell exactly like Palmolive, but rather, it smells like Palmolive if it were made into an Eau d'Parfum. And to be even more accurate, it smells like my hands do AFTER I've washed the dishes with Palmolive, not exactly the dish soap itself. I'm sure I'll not be winning any points in the "most reliable reviews" category with this one but I have tried for two weeks to shake this sensation and every time I wear it I'm like, "yeah... that's Palmolive." When I bury my nose to my skin I'm able to detect the other ingredients, especially the soft heliotrope, but any poetic waxings that the fragrance might whisper to me are covered in a green, viscous gel. But since Palmolive doesn't smell BAD and because I'm sure I'm missing something here, neutral it is.

Osmanthe Yunnan is one of those "just right" fragrances that seem to press all the right buttons without doing anything particularly exceptional. Though not shocking, dried apricot (I say dried because that's the image I receive when wearing this) as a fragrance note is pretty different and I can't imagine this being immediately desirable to the masses. There's something muted, very "alto voiced" about Osmanthe Yunnan that a) brings it into unisex territory and b) gives it an edge of sophistication and a grown up sense of balance.

When I experienced this for the first time, I was instantly reminded of the unlikely smell of carving out the inside of a pumpkin on Halloween. Something about the way the citrus, used to add just a hint of juicy brightness, interacts with the apricot and floral elements painted this picture in my mind. I am not able to detect any milky notes in this as many others are and that is only to say that if one were looking for a milky impression in this I'm not sure how pronounced it is. While Osmanthe Yunnan, on me, has never changed very much in its evolution on my skin, I become more aware of the tea note which teeters between dried tea leaves and gently sweet hay as the fragrance develops, and this element of the fragrance is really satisfying and pleasantly different. Overall Osmanthe Yunnan is an unlikely citrus/apricot floral fragrance pitched about two octaves lower than the fruity florals we've been accustomed to, with a easy, relaxed vibe perfect for a breezy summer day.

After two yeas of buying decants of this wonderful fragrance, I continued to ask myself if I really wanted to invest in a full bottle and now looking back I ask myself why I waited so long. It has been one of my most satisfying and versatile purchases to date, noting of course, I do live in a tropical climate where even the lightest of fragrances can seem cloying. In Virgin Island Water, I smell blissfully green, juicy, tart, real limes so accurately rendered it is as if one cut open the fruit and applied the juice directly to my skin, combined with a soft coconut note, a sugary sweetness so subtle and realistic it's as if one cracked open the cane and let the juice trickle into the bottle, all enveloped by a hint of velvety rum.

I should note that the lime goes away too soon for me (though for a bright, highly pitched yet natural lime note such as this one, it's a commendable effort!), and although beautiful, the coconut, rum, and sugar cane that one is left with can be a little uninspiring. The lime in the opening is like a drug - you just can't get enough and end up having to reapply to chase the lime high, so to speak. One more thing: as you look at the more beautifully sculpted smaller 2.5 ounce version and contemplate as I did whether or not to pay the relatively small amount more for twice the amount of fragrance, and you say to yourself, "but the smaller bottle is so much nicer to look at" I'll advise, go for the four ounce bottle. It's a no brainer of a better value and I bet you'll end up spraying quite liberally as I do.

Consider me taken aback by how beautifully Ellena has captured the sensation of breathing in the fragrance of a fresh lily. The purity, the innocence, the slight tang, the soft outer edge -- it's all there behind a breath of soft vanilla. The slight fresh sourness (there are moments when it reminds me of the fragrance of a giant white magnolia) in Vanille Gallante brings another Ellena creation instantly to mind: Un Jardin Apres La Mousson yet their relationship is extremely distant. While UJALM is initially overwhelming, sour, aquatic, and melony, Vanille Gallante is a kiss of freshness, of dewy lily petals on a crisp spring morning. In a word, lovely.

Each of the star ingredients in Encens et Lavande are associated with creating calm or center to one degree or another and the pairing of the two is a wonderful effect. Extremely simple, exquisitely balanced, this fragrance seems to create its own space, one of contemplation and relaxation, and every time I wear it I'm inspired to breathe deeply and just chill out.

Allow me to reiterate the notes in my own review: currants, white honey, candied Turkish rose, Egyptian jasmine, smoked leather, beeswax, Balkan tobacco, Peru balsam, patchouli, tonka bean, styrax, juniper, and vanilla. I had to do that because when I look at those notes it is like reading poetry to me.

I can only describe Fumerie Turque as it occurs to me and what I sense is a very tightly constructed, compact and dense incense fragrance. Not incense as a note of course, but rather, a composition which might yield the perfume used to scent incense meant to be burned. For me the impression of Fumerie Turque is that of an ever so slightly smoked sweet amber mixed with an earthy, leathery, tobacco accord. A beautiful and contemplative fragrance.

Santal de Mysore opens with an aggressive sweetness, but if one can hold on for a few moments, it rewards its wearer by transforming beautifully into a delicious, luxurious, undulating blanket of textures and sensations. The combination of creamy sandalwood densely packed with dry Indian spices enveloped by a layer of rich sweetness that in my mind's eye takes on an almost glowing, hot red hue is enough to put this guy "a swoonin'." A fantastic example of the Lutens esthetic.

This is a delightful little fragrance by Olivia Giacobetti. If you can imagine what saffron, rose, and vanilla blended in perfect harmony smells like, you can imagine the impression given by Safran Troublant. I ALMOST want to say I smell cinnamon as well... just the littlest tiniest hint which gives this a little tiny prickle in the nose, especially when I breathe warm air on it. The only problem I have with it is that I have to work very hard to smell it, even when I smell it up close. As the fragrance develops and as the star ingredients meld together, the floral nature subsides quite a bit and it becomes an extremely soft, gently spicy gourmand.

L'Artisan isn't playing around with the name here. There's a "flour in a barrel at the health food store" impression from first whiff that has put a smile on the face of everyone I've shoved this in front of. This is followed by what I originally deemed a peanut butter note but with further applications realized reminded me much more specifically of Halvah bars which are made of extremely finely ground sesame seeds and sugar. I don't know why but I have a feeling if I owned this I'd wear it all the time. It's just good mood inducing fragrance ingenuity and I love it. I think the inclusion of iris gives it an alluring and somewhat luxurious edge as well. The most amazing part is that the weight of the fragrance seems to be that of flour. It's weightless but present. Yum!

I really like Rose 31! It starts with what I perceive as a mouth watering, juicy rose accord followed by a spoonfull of incense, wood, and pepper that reminds me of the same combination's impressions in fragrances like CdG 2MAN and Escentric Molecules Escentric 01, though its use here is much more sparing and certainly not as aggressive as it is in the CdG. While cumin can often come across as unwashed or sweaty (as can gaiac wood and cedar wood notes on my skin as well) the ratio of cumin to rose creates a rather tame cumin impression which to my nose really contributes more to the woody, incense-y gaiac/cedar/cistus spoonful impression rather than creating its own impact.

This is an extremely versatile fragrance, one that puts a smile on my face. Though some find it dark, animalic and a little dirty, I don't experience it that way so much. It seems casual -- a fragrance one might reach for several times a week. It's interesting, certainly, but in no way challenging or persnickety. Rose 31 bursts to life in warm weather, highlighting the spicy, woody, tiny bit dirty sly grin elements as well. Many many thumbs up.

At first I wasn't too sure about En Passant, and I'm still not in love with it, but I now really appreciate it for what it is. The first time I smelled it the lilac reminded me of air freshener (don't hate me!) and I realized I must have been in a bad mood and decided to test it again another day. I'm glad I did because it doesn't remind me of air freshener so much anymore and now, right from the beginning I get the impression of dewy lilacs nestled on a plate next to a pile of powdery wedding cookies (a.k.a. snowball cookies - the round, buttery, almondy/nutty ones covered in powdered sugar). There really is an innocence, a simplicity, an alabaster-skinned, rosy-cheeked impression about En Passant. And it's no joke: there really is a doughy note in the fragrance, and it combines with the lilac and cucumber to create this ultra gentle, soft, angel's breath sort of feel. I couldn't decide whether it was beautiful or pretty and so I thus dub it: beautifully pretty.

Patchouli 24 is in a personal category of fragrances I like to call a "niche mess" and more often than not, I'm head over heals for everything I put into this category. Patchouli 24 is no exception. I can divide my Patchouli 24 experience into two very distinct parts. In the opening I'm treated to that "whoah, slow down there fella!" thing where all the notes come at me in a brawl of sensations and textures. There's heaps of smoke, tar, the smell of old dry things like leather or jerky, and vanilla to ground and soften what COULD be a very ugly experience. On the contrary, this is absolutely fantastic and that very vanilla seems to bind and lubricate everything dry and severe about this fragrance, so that when all is said and done, I actually consider Patchouli 24 to be one of my number one comfort scents, and instead of dry, I sense it as being very rich, if one could imagine thick vanilla tar in a molten, liquid form.

The second part of my experience with Patchouli 24 is the cozy part for me. Not long after I apply it, everything starts to chill out and I envision a log cabin in the woods. If I might elaborate, this really does paint a pretty specific image in my mind... the air outside is pointedly cold and crisp, the sky radiantly blue, the scent of fireplace hangs in the air all around, and you take a whiff of your clean, slightly fabric softened (not the fresh smelling kind, the snuggly soft kind) flannel shirt, and you just wanna curl up in a thick quilt blanket on a big, old, worn leather arm chair and soak it all in. The end of Patchouli 24 smells like that to me. There's something unmistakably gentle and soft in this fragrance that really makes this shift in sensations a brilliant achievement. Love...it! Love it!

This is a truly beautiful fragrance and I am taken by the masterful blending of ingredients and balance of textures. I'm glad Odysseusm mentioned "gentle spice and wood" and their absence in the listed ingredients, because I, too, feel this to be a woody/spicy fragrance at its heart, and after reading the sample card I wondered how that impression was achieved without wood or spice. I can only imagine there must be more to the story than Bois 1920 is letting on because my nose is constantly grabbing on to new sensations throughout its journey with 1920 Extreme: for a moment my nose hooks onto citrus, and then... anise seed? no no, maybe geranium, bergamot and vanilla? what is that spice, and did I just get a hint of a woody amber note? The beauty of 1920 Extreme is that no note protrudes (though one senses an array of textures), there is no clamor, there is just a touch of sweetness, and it all amounts to a strangely arresting combination of soft and rugged masculinity. This is one of the most attractive fragrances I've smelled in a long time, one that I loved the the first time I experienced it, and one I continue to love and enjoy the more I wear it.

I enjoy this fragrance immensely, from start to finish. Right away, several different textures, weights, and sensations clamor to find their place, the major players being dry, sharp lavender and other pungent herbs (sage?), and sweet, spicy, curried helichrysum. As the sharp dryness of the lavender subsides a bit, I notice an anise impression that's not terribly strong on me, doesn't take over as it can do, and adds a perfect balance to the dustiness of the herbs and powdered curry of immortelle. I find the cologne concentration of this really a remarkable facet of its success because if Eau Noir were an Eau d'Parfum, I could imagine it having the impression of "too much of everything" and becoming a perfumey, syrupy mess (how I might feel about Parfum d'Empire Fougere Bengale if I didn't like it so darn much!). But with Eau Noir, there's a sense of place for each of its notes and accords, and while we are exposed to many foody ingredients, there's something about this sense of balance that keeps me from the fear of smelling like a plate of Indian food. Or like coffee, or licorice, or like pancake syrup (and come to think of it, those thoughts don't bother me in the least). Its dryness (mostly toward the beginning) doesn't grate and its sweetness (in the middle and toward the end) doesn't cloy: the balance of impressions experienced in Eau Noir is incredible to me. When a lot of the clamor that is experienced at the beginning settles down, I see where Eau Noir wants to repose and it is in a perfect marriage of sweet spice and herbal harmony.

I kind of like the way Vetiver des Sables opens: and that would be, unlike any other vetiver fragrance I've experienced. In just a few short moments, though, my smile turns upside down. The vetiver quickly loses any semblance of the note I've come to know (and love) and becomes buried in a sharp, bright, somewhat shrill metallic fragrance that dries down to a light herbal aquatic. Having said that, I can see how this could be appealing to some vetiver lovers, or perhaps a Montale that would appeal to Bond No. 9 or Creed Millesimme aficionados, but it is just too sharp for my nose. Obviously, some of this shrillness subsides and Vetiver des Sables takes on a comfortable, casual summertime air, but for some reason I find it somewhat disagreeable and more than somewhat derivative. It's successful as a light, summery, grassy/seaside masculine, but I suppose my disappointment stems from the fact that I was expecting something darker and earthier from Montale. So I guess I'm more to blame than Pierre Montale.

Black Aoud is a stunningly opulent perfume which balances a certain amount of harsh vulgarity with a profound sensuality. From the coarse, sharp, gnarly opening, it grips the wearer with thorny tendrils of woody, resinous, earthiness which envelop a pulsing heart of deep red rose, a rose boiling in rich brew of contrastingly arresting notes, velvety, rich rose which becomes somewhat sour and balsamic when combined with aoud, patchouli. I imagine these tendrils reaching out to those around me as I walk past, casting a mysterious wake. I can't simply apply this fragrance and go. I very literally must stand for a moment and ponder it. It stays with me all day, and I am nearly constantly aware of it for the first few hours. That said, it never interferes, never becomes annoying or too much. The next morning I am greeted by an incredibly soft, gentle, earthy patchouli note that is one of my favorite parts of the whole experience. A-ma-zing, if that's the kind of fragrance you are looking for.

This is a fragrance that was better than I imagined it would be, and I'd built it up in my mind for months before actually getting to try it. Like salt water dried on sun drenched skin? Absolutely! While Sel de Vetiver is really all about vetiver and the sensation of salt, I would actually venture to recommend it to those seaking a seaside reminiscent fragrance as it certainly evokes that for me, but in a far less obvious way than most fragrances with that specific intent. The first stage in the game is noticing how a grapefruit note works in the fragrance as a perfumer's brush stroke, avoiding the spotlight in order to add a shimmer to the fresher, greener aspects of vetiver and produce that mouthwatering tang that I often experience in a good vetiver fragrance. Sel de Vetiver's biggest surprise on me was that for the greater part of its evolution, it intensified on my skin. The vetiver and salt sensation became sharper, more focused, and more delicious, MORE mouthwatering, to the point where the fragrance actually smells of crisp, clean sea water, and the greenness of the vetiver actually seems to take on a sea kelp imagery in my mind. This fragrance is an absolute joy to wear and it does not leave one wanting for more intensity and longevity. Though when all is said and done this is a rather "simple" fragrance, I can't say enough good things about it. Superb!

When I was at Aedes, I heard customers fawning over Escentric 01. "Oh yes, you really can't smell it ON you that much but people compliment me on this all the time." And that seems to be what I hear and read most about this fragrance. Naturally I had to know what this olfactory phenomenon was all about so I ordered a sample. Now, I generally don't like to play the "this smells like" game, but my nose went through a scrolling list of fragrances of which Escentric 01 reminded me. The opening wizz of tart, delicious, green yet slightly chemical lime/lime peel reminded me VERY STRONGLY of Eau d'Cartier Concentree. This association was intensified when the nondescript hazy woody notes came through, but just as that scent association faded, another came to the fore... Dolce & Gabanna Light Blue for women, and distantly of Black XS for men which has that similar fuzzy sweet wood sensation. Those hazy, scratchy, somewhat generic woody notes are utilized here subtly, and they seem like the generic light, hazy, fuzzy, scratchy, blond wood smell employed in many of todays department store "fresh/woody" fragrances. Burying my nose in, I faintly experience a sort of cool, pointed, peppery, fresh frankincense smell that seems to add that "je ne sai quoi" to Escentric 01 transforming it from something ho hum to something kind of special. I reminded those around me all day that I was wearing a "magic perfume that wafts genius bursts of freshness and delight all day" and no one seemed to notice it. I did dab generously, and did not spray... so perhaps in order to experience this halo, this aura, the mystery that is Escentric 01, one needs to spray it on. Honestly, I feel this could be something special but because I'm not able to mist it on my body and clothes, I'm not getting the full effect. At any rate, via my mode of application, this turned out to be a nice, pretty, tame, sweet and sour fresh lime, effervescent light woody scent with a little prickly pepper to add interest. If one were to sample this, I highly recommend ordering a spray decant. I want to give it a neutral but must give a thumbs up. There's something about this that seems "just right." It's balanced, gentle, it smells very good, and it's unique.

Luxury luxury luxury luxury luxury. It is not always conventionally pretty. But, in the same way that pears and bleu cheese, melons and prosciutto, and fish eggs and creme fraiche go together perversely well, so does vetiver and everything Sheldrake put into Vetiver Oriental. It conceptually doesn't smell "good" like a rose smells good or like vetiver itself smells good or like and apple smells good. No, it's smells... better than good... it smells exquisite. It's so odd in that funny way in which a royal family could be purveyors of good taste in all their gaudiness, or a Jaguar, though (once) infamous for its horrible reliability, maintains its luxury edge based on the sweet smell of its hides and wood varnish, and secondarily, its smooth ride. I don't know why but this fragrance does so many things so very very well, and it inspires all this confusing prose in me. There isn't an obvious moment in the journey, and the contrasts are so well balanced that I get excited every time I wear it. I first tried it 6 months ago and have been VERY eager to own a small amount in order to experience it at will. The vetiver hides itself in a warm, rich, nutty cloak, and peeks out, never losing itself, always present, but never really starring. To be sure, this is not the sweet nuttiness of Vetiver Tonka. While I love that, this is much more unique, much less conventional, much more quirky, far more odd. I just can't describe the following sensation but I see old libraries, a harking back to tradition, cigar rooms, stodgy people, but with gobs of funky, quirky class, similar to the feeling I get when I wear Annick Goutal Sables.

I can't imagine it garnering many compliments but for some reason I'd feel so happy and weird wearing it. There's something leathery and unrefined about its refinement and I just love it. Love it love it love it. I've given this fragrance a great deal of thought and I'd like to say that this iris note gives way to that chocolate one and hands off this to that, but it doesn't play out that way for me. I do notice the vetiver and the sandalwood as particularly key players, there is a great deal of richness here, never pillowy, always resinous but creamy. It's hard to call it a vetiver fragrance, honestly. It's a creamy woody fragrance with a good amount of vetiver. It's also not particularly spicy on me, so I don't know how oriental it is. But whatever. It's just one of the most satisfyingly unique, anti-trendy fragrances I've had the pleasure of smelling, well, ever.

I'm jealous of those who experience discernible spices in this because that is what I was expecting, and sort of hoping for. But from start to finish, Chergui is silky and smooth on me, rich, enveloping, and initially a bit powdery. Though not at all the experience I'd set myself up for, Chergui has done anything but dissappoint me. Though the fragrance itself is a dark rich brown, I see it in my mind's eye as more of a light cream/tan. There's something luxuriously rich in Chergui, like the sensation of milky tea with honey and vanilla, and this dense, creamy sweetness is the element that intensifies the most on me as I wear it. It is one of those non-gourmand delights which make my mouth water without necessarily conjuring images of dessert. I think the dry sweetness of hay and tobacco mixed with the luscious creaminess of iris and amber is very alluring but has me wondering what this has to do with hot spicy wind gusts. Whatever the case, Chergui, gently intense, rich without being stifling, threw me for a loop. It is fantastically delicious but perhaps not in the way you might have been expecting.

I have to say, I've never had to work so hard to understand a fragrance before. I've read reviews of Chene here and on various blogs and had a very specific expectation which had been building for nearly a year. Now that I've been able to experience it, it's taken me a week of concentrated effort to figure out how to conform my experience of Chene into what Sheldrake and Lutens were telling me I was supposed to be seeing. I'll begin by saying that now I see freshly sawed wood and sap when I smell this, without a pause, without skipping the slightest beat. But the first time I smelled Chene I was shocked to smell sour fruit candy notes billowing off my skin for at least the first half hour of wear. Truth be told, that is ALL I could smell the FIRST time I wore it. I wanted to smell wooded paths, pine needles under foot, or be transported to a wood shop or even an antiques store like my fellow basenoters but I couldn't get past this purple/maroon/red nondescript fruit candy smell. I lent my wrist to family members who would respond with "very woody!" and slump shouldered, I wondered why I wasn't getting it.

I honestly can't tell you what happened but one day, it just clicked: the candy turned into the smell of sap: the smell of walking into a room where wood is being cut by a circular saw, the hot blade radiating the scent of sawdust and resins and sap into the air. There is a great moment in Chene where the image of the freshly cut wooden plank and heated sap comes into complete focus and it is a really fantastic effect, though it takes me a while to get there each time I wear it. I guess I've just never experienced a woody fragrance quite like this before. They've all been less sweet, less "freshly cut" and less sappy, I suppose, thus the reason my nose and brain were groping for words to describe what they were experiencing -- the reason for why they were telling me fruity candy. The great thing about Chene is that it seems so fixed in its intent, but my interpretation of it shifts as I wear it... newly cut wood, old wooden furniture, a walk in a pine forest -- it's all conjured by this fascinating fragrance which I'd actually not want to wear, but am happy to have a little bit of to sniff from time to time.

Thank goodness for the edit feature because about a year ago, this happened (cue chimes):
I thought I liked pretty much everything Jeah-Claude Ellena composed, but this... I don't like to be overly simplistic but perhaps honesty is the best policy... My olfactory memories are lighting up "cumin and Secret Deodorant." I swear it. There is an armpit note to be sure, but how perfect that Ellena thought to counter it with the smell of a woman's deodorant! Cutting, biting, yet wrapped in a powdery pillow...
Despite what some say, this is no where in the same gallaxy as Terre d'Hermes. Please please please don't believe these rumors. I'm wearing them both right now, and the GENIUS Td'H has my eyes rolling into my head (in the good way), nose glued to wrist, the Cartier, running to the sink to wash it off. I tried these both because I wanted to purchase the Hermes but having read here that there are similarities, I wanted to compare before buying. Nada que ver! Not at all! This seems like a fragrance that had its day once, but now seems irrelevant.

STUPIIIID! Well, not really, but let's just say my nose has evolved in a year, so that now:

I just paid full price for a 100 ML bottle of it because it's been haunting my dreams ever since I smelled it on a friend who came to stay with me for a few days. He sprayed it on and immediately I thought (and let's remember that this is just what my brain came up with intuitively and on the spot without a second of analysis) "That smells like a braver, thicker, more masculine Bulgari Eau Parfumee au The Vert and immediately demanded he let me guess what it was. After several failed attempts I was TOTALLY taken aback when he said Declaration. "But, that doesn't smell like armpit and Secret!" So I gave it another really good go in VERY hot weather and let's just say I've been unable to get it out of my mind. I wrote that first review at the very outset of this fragrance obsessing journey and really, I think I wasn't ready conceptually for Declaration. I wasn't able to translate its eccentricity into the beauty that I now see. The sharpness of the bitter orange that once set my nose to crinkle now excites my senses and begs eager sniffing. The armpit has literally disappeared and now all I smell are very tasteful, yet very present dry woods combined with an inescapable mental link to the Bulgari Green Tea (which I do love). After having now experienced the Bigarades of Malle and Rose 31, Eau d'Hermes, Kingdom, and really wrapped my nose around some fascinating compositions in the niche world, I am now ready to say that Declaration is brilliant. It really is, take my word for it... I would NNEEVVVEEERRR post a hasty review (don't see above) ;)

p.s. It was a tough decision but after much deliberation I chose Declaration over L'Essence. Both are spectacular, but the original challenged me a bit more and I liked that.

This starts rather deliciously confusing with a sour fruit/ peanut butter coconut smelling blast. I first wore this in the summer in Colorado, when it was rainy, cloudy, crisp, and cool one day, and hot and dry the next, I couldn't help but feel that B*Men was the perfect scent for those days, because B*Men is a shape shifter of sorts. Hot weather will enhance the dry, dusty, red sand impression given by the amber and spices, while cool weather brings out the sensation I receive later on in its development of pine needles, wet leaves and wet earth, as if walking through a forest at dusk just after a cold rain storm. Infused into every step of B*Men's development is a rich gourmand sweetness. This fragrance is not only fascinating, but delicious, warm, and comfortable.

After reading Chandler Burr's descriptions of this (something about a creamy cement wall, spices on one side and a pastry shop on the other and in a separate article, "a field of spices in a forest of saplings growing under a fresh, clean, blue Indian sky") NATURALLY I had to experience this. It has quickly skyrocketed to the top of my favorites list and it will always be one of those fragrances that remind me that it is not always necessary to look towards the niche houses to find fascinating, beautiful, and extremely satisfying works of fragrance art.

This is a wonderful fragrance that, rare these days, is specifically for a man. That said, it is completely unique, and the color of the fragrance reminds me of the color of the smell... clear, crisp and clean (but not in a citrus/soapy/aquatic way).. Only as a point of reference, I'll say it reminds me of the smell of celery and a gin martini but woods, pointy pepper, and musk mixed in for a suble sweetness that waits for the initial clarity to dry away. It is very weak on my skin. I have to bury my nose to smell a hint of it after 30 minutes let alone an hour, BUT I don't like the extreme version: I find it enhances the sour notes in this too much. I'd rather just reapply.

This really stands out as something completely different though it shares components (coffee vanilla chocolate tonka bean) with so many other gormand offerings. It is daring and never ceases to garner compliments. The initial blast is very confusing, I'll give you that (for a second I almost smell pinesol probably due to the lavender/mint combo) but those initial notes dry down quickly to reveal a warm rich fragrance that is very intimate. I can't imagine not having it in my collection simply as an alternative to the norm and because it deserves to be part of any collector's stash. Does NOT combine well with the saltiness of sweat so it does NOT work on warm days or in a steamy club situation but rather a crisp fall or winter sweater day or cafe night, for walking through the city with a Starbucks in hand in the cold. I generally am a fan of finely crafted, unique fragrances, and this may be rather pedestrian in that regard. But for the 100% unique warmth it conjurs, it is definitely a worthy fragrance.

Many men's orientals these days dry down to a powdery vanilla (which I love) but this one has clarity, yet remains very deep and interesting. It's woodsy (a criss-crossing of sweet light and dark woods), it's spicey (a great lasting cinnamon), it's sweet in a very tasteful way. But it's NOT confusing, and IS full of interesting twists and turns on the skin. At times it smells like a masculine potpourri satchel, with so many wood variations and spices. Not groundbreaking, and what you'd probably imagine if someone said, "a tasteful, spicey, woodsy oriental."

I guess everyone has that one scent in their collection... you know the one... it goes from top shelf to back of the drawer because you can never really be sure of it. Well, Bulgari Black is that one for me: I suppose that's mostly because it, to me, only belongs in certain settings. One, it must be cool to cold outside, and two, it must be dark out. This would not work on a warm breezy summer evening, and would not work on a crisp spring day. Black says it ALL here, especially with the black tire punch from the very first inhale. Mixed with vanilla, and that slightly sour black tea note, this is very intriguing.

The only thing I'd change on this one is, tone down the vanilla, and dry out the sweet. That would make this more modern and more versatile. Bulgari Black Dry... the name needs work but I'd love to see it happen.

I did appreciate Platinum Egoiste at one time and actually owned a bottled, but I realized that it was not only continuously off-putting to those around me, but just projected "me" too loudly. It said things about me I didn't agree with. If you enjoy the bright greenness of this fragrance but want more subtlely and refinement, I might suggest Creed's Green Valley. To me, Platinum recalls Green Valley with the fine rare imported oils of Gilette Shaving Gel mixed in. No, it's not that bad, but the first burst is unfortunately very gym locker room, the sharpness of "masculine" freshness and cleanliness on steroids.

H.M. starts out very lemony, very bright, slightly zesty, and calms to a more lemon drop sugaryness in about a half hour after which the florals are revieled. They do not replace the lemon (nor does the lemon completely disappear on my skin), rather, soften it, refine it. The drydown is elegant in an almost feminine way... sweet, delicate, yet still bright like the color of lemon yellow or of blond woods. To me this is light and fresh, with the more gormand/gracefully transparent wood notes mixing so seemlessly with the lemon lavender and moss, giving it an ever so gentle nudge toward masculine. It's really very beautiful.

There is a reason this fragrance is so successful... It really is that good. Think green teas and fresh green notes with slight berry elements calming to a base of freshness, pleasant green sweetness, combined with patchouli and musk.

A lovely breath of fresh air, a fresh breeze through leaves and tree branches and bushes. If a babbling brook scene had a scent this could be it. It's transparent but present, beginning with a combination of twiggy fig and bright citrus, and after about an hour the fragrance dries down to, according to my nose, a very soft cedar, fresh and dry leaf combination.

Another beautifully natural composition for Hermes by Ellena.

Ever since I smelled a young guy at a smoky Irish Pub wearing the most head tilting, interesting, mossy, earthy, smoky, spicy, coniferous fragrance, I've been trying to find it. It could have been Quorum. At first Quorum smells like ones' fingers after mashing pine needles and bark between them. It's really spicy (with cumin) and woody but in a way VERY natural and of the earth and starts off with a clean soap note. I found it at a discount store for $9 so I bought it if for no other reason than to simply study and understand it. Loud and refined, I think this more gentlemanly scent on a younger man could be a fascinating and effective contrast.

I don't know where to begin with this sinister, earthy, gnarly, rich, dark, gorgeous fragrance. Every time I smell it on me I notice something new, something even more spectacular. I generally enjoy dark, richer fragrances so no surprise that this is for me, but this is intensely fascinating. My sister had orchids in her house and I remember walking past them and noticing a funny, hollow clarity as they began to wilt, and I smell that RIGHT at the beginning here. There is a sense of earthy decay that is MIND BLOWINGLY intriguing, mixed with the richer vanillic base.

It starts of earthy, rooty, sweet (I don't smell fruit), with this hollow fresh cut white flower smell (like the smell of a flower in refrigeration), or is it the smell of a flower on its way to the garbage? I can't be sure but it's REALLY fascinating. My only problem with this is the drydown. It is an unfortunately simple, uninspired vanilla. I only wish that the shoulder grabbing, truffled earthy opening would last longer. But that part, however long it lasts makes this totally worth it.

Ink really does have a smell. Just color a big circle with a simple Bic pen and smell the paper -- it’s there as plain as day, oddly sweet. That’s not Sumi ink, but it does prove that the idea of creating a fragrance based on a scent such as ink is not completely absurd nor impossible. I asked my Japanese friend who is very familiar with Sumi ink to take a whiff of 2 and she said that the idea of it was presented very clearly to her.

What fascinates me about CdG 2 is that it hints at ink in the way that something more obvious such as Donna Karan’s Be Delicious hints at apple. It’s not at downright imitation of the scent but through a creative use of ingredients, the picture is painted. It’s actually gourmandly delicious smelling in its sweet spicey citrus floral amberyness, with patchouli to add a touch of earth. The woods add moments of resinous texture, and it even passes through a point on my skin of smelling lusciously "perfumey." It’s so unique and so fascinating because it seems to fit whichever abstract fragrance box you want to place it in. But to get “unique” you really have to keep telling yourself that it is, and really get in there from the beginning and start sniffing before the air carries away the weirdness, because it’s not as odd as I thought it would be. It’s completely wearable (much moreso than 3 or the odeurs in my opinion). The reason I was taken aback by 2 is because I was under the impression it was unisex and this smells decidedly feminine to me if you'd allow me to characterize a fragrance as such. At any rate, that wouldn’t stop me from wearing it and feeling extra cool knowing I’ve got the fragrance modern artwork Comme des Garcons 2 on, and forcing everyone to smell my sumi ink uniqueness.

After reading about this a hundred times I was finally able to experience it first hand and it's no joke: This is the smell of Catholic Church incense. I just played the opera Tosca and there's a scene where the alter boys come out and swing incense around the stage and I actually wore Avignon to the last concert, and sniffing the smoky air and then my arm, I notice little to no difference in the scent experience. It's a hot, dry smell, and there is nothing of the Catholic Mass incense experience that Avignon is not. And the genius of Avignon exists in its ability to create a fragrance texture that until now I'd not experienced: dry and scratchy. It's so remarkable that these scent molecules can paint such a realistic picture, leaving me almost parched, that I'm left perplexed and awestruck each and every time I experience it. I used to confuse the idea of incense with Nag Champa, the colorfully sweet incense of India, but Avignon is the opposite of sweet. It's a somber woody incense, gray, and perhaps a little wistful -- a little lonely, and dry as a bone, like walking into a hot wooden sauna before water has been sprinkled onto the rocks. It's VERY realistic, not particularly beautiful, a little brutish, rather austere, yet not completely unapproachable. This is a very special fragrance indeed.

I grew up in Florida and the beach and taking day trips in the boat really hold a special place in my heart. I received my sample of Acqua di Sale there, in Florida, and I had a chance to wear it in the setting. My mom and I sampled this together, and we both really crinkled our noses. Phew! It's more than a little off putting in the OPENING, with a strong Noxema-esque quality. I sense a melange of REALLY SOUR citrus coming together with sea weed to create this pungency, like extracting the bitterest part of the opening of a lemon/lime peel (just the sensation, not the actual fragrance note). It is so bitter at points, it actually makes my mouth water. After about an hour, when a lot of that pungency dissipates, it's not completely unlike imagining sticking your head over the side of a boat on a REALLY SUNNY DAY and dunking your head under, mouth open, and getting a little up your nose too.

So, in Florida I really didn't enjoy it. But now that I've returned home, it takes me right back to riding in the boat with my dad and the dogs: The smell of drying salt water on the dogs' fur, the smell of acidic slightly poluted Gulf of Mexico water. It's the smell of untying boat line from the dock, it's the smell of this scene: huge white boats, sails reaching toward the sky, barnacles, big blue sky and pillowy white clouds, sea gulls, salt and sun soaked beach furniture, warping boards of wood, the sun directly overhead putting a smile on everyone's face. Now that I've worn it several times, away from the beach, I'm sold.. it's a fantastically evocative fragrance.

Good God this is what it's all about. Amber Absolute is a fragrance which humbles the eager fragrance lover in me: it makes me pause and realize the true artistry involved in creating these wearable masterpieces. It opens with a thick, rich, mapley, buttery impression which is fantastically countered with a large dose of peppery incense. Eventually the rich sweetness gives way to sumptous woods and more incense.

Amber Absolute brings me to a dark underground crypt, a stone passageway lit with black wrought iron lanterns, the only light coming from the eerie glow of the dancing red and orange flames cast againt the walls. It's melancholic but warm, hence the imagery of the glow of a fire in a pitch black room. It's a gorgeous study of the contrast between the richness and luxuriousness of sweet and resinous amber, vanilla, and labdanum and the burning pepper and wood scent of incense. In a word, Amber Absolute is breathtaking.

I've worn this several times and it's taken me a long time to finally feel comfortable writing a cohesive review. Noir Epices is a big, beautiful, voluptuous perfume (and when I first smelled it, that was the word that flashed into my head... "perfume!"). It has taught me a totally new way to enjoy citrus in a fragrance. Once again, expectation faced reality in a battle in my mind because before experiencing Noir Epices first hand, I imagined something along the lines of a spicy, peppery, smoldering woody incense or even, something more in the direction of Comme des Garcons Original, and this is nothing like either of those.

The orange in Noir Epices is so facinating because at first, I would NEVER have guessed this was orange, but rather an aldehydic burst opening a luxurious chypre from a more opulent time. But now that I know it's a star ingredient, it's there in full glory. At the opening, this orange feels like a golden oil, and the spices are encapsulated, hovering inside, enshrouded in a luxuriously thick, rosey, citrus suspension. Soon the oil begins to "melt" and the spices are left exposed, prickling the nose more as the dense citrus opening subsides, giving the finely ground spices a more starring role (I actually sneezed a pepper sneeze when smelling this: I FEEL these spices poking the inside of my nose!). But they are so beautifully woven into the citrus/floral mix, it's REALLY difficult for me to see where citrus/floral ends and spice begins. This to me, is as feminine as a fragrance can get... but it is a dark femininity, sharp at times, like brightness seen through amber colored tinted lenses, always maintaining an air of mystery and opulence. It is exquisite.

I've given French Lover a lot of thought, I've tried to understand why this final product was chosen by Frederic Malle to be included in his collection. With the Malle line, as well as with Comme des Garcons, Parfum d'Empire, and others, I like to read what about the design concept and understand the intent. In the case of French Lover, learning that the collaborators wanted to create the odor of a man, something clicked. There's that man odor that sometimes smells cumin like, there's that clean, salty odor, and then there's that green, just rolled in the grass outdoors odor, and French Lover exemplifies the latter to me.

It opens, and IMMEDIATELY I'm reminded of a seaweed salad complete with the sesame seed oil on top. There's something resinous and woody buried in the background, but I must say, this is ALL about plants and herbs and the word vegetal is SO fitting here! All of that with a woody GROWL, an incense grumble. Suddenly you smell it, the vetiver... that sour but addictive scent. This is GREEEEEN but a dark green, resinous green, harsh, and maybe a little dank (patchouli and moss). I think this is so oddly received because we expect something that smells manly, maybe something along the lines of Tom Ford for Men (and/or Extreme), but we get this big dry but moist dark green vegetal creature. Now, if this is hard to digest, just imagine how this might smell to someone who doesn't know you're wearing a fragrance... you pass by and waft this ultra natural earthy vegetal scent combined with your own odor. THAT is sexy. Hence: French Lover :)

Bigarade Concentree totally threw me for a loop, as they say. It was not at ALL what I was expecting, which was Terre d'Hermes' (which I love) more fascinating older brother. And the surprise here is, that after hearing and reading so many comparisons, I find that it's something completely different altogether. It is a heavy, dense, weighty, rich orange, deepened with that cedar element which may or may not be responsible for creating the cumin note which is present here without any doubt. The heaviness I experience in Bigarade Concentree expresses that deep oiliness that one senses upon inhaling a freshly ripped open orange PEEL, the sour, soft white strings and all. There is definitely something dirty here, a rounded, indolic aura with that cumin sensation grinning a dirty little smile in the background. And, call me crazy if you wish, but I also get, very clearly, the smell of the white rubber in tennis balls and/or the sour smell of new sneakers. I know this is going to confuse the situation if someone were to actually USE this review in his or her decision to try this fragrance, but it's there, I swear it!

So athletic equipment aside, Bigarade Concentree surprised me in two ways: with its weight and the relatively dark way the bitter orange is expressed here, think orange-brown. I suppose it's the high concentration of perfume oils but this does not sit on the skin lightly. It's a round, heavy orange scent that can't be described well with words: One just has to experience it first hand. If you are expecting something similar to Terre d'Hermes, you will not find it here (TdH a mere translucent veil compared to this). If you've smelled Eau d'Hermes, it's more in that direction, though I find EdH more effervescent than Bigarade Concentree. How can a citrus fragrance be so dense? Smell it and you'll see... A beautiful, artistic expression - an abstract vision of bigarade concept, but rather than taking that first sniff and saying, "OH GOD I NEED TO HAVE THIS", I simple sniffed, thought, "huh.. interesting" and kept trying to love it but after a month it's still all respect but no love.

Ambre Narguile is good enough to eat. It is a very gourmand fragrance with cinnamon really reinforcing this impression. Like a cinnamon syrup one might top vanilla ice cream with... yes that's it! I was trying to think of what kind of food impression it was giving me and this is it, though the texture and weight are not at at all syrupy. As it develops my food impression changes to something more of the moist holiday spice cake variety, but in its entire progression I never lose this gourmand impression.

It's hard to go into great detail about Ambre Narguile because it's not very complex and I guess that's part of its charm: it's rich and delicious, by in a simple way.

I'm smitten with Vetiver Tonka... To me it's so simple and playful, and you can't take it too seriously which is a good thing! I enjoy vetiver in all its carnations, beit smoky, citrusy, and/or dirty, and Vetiver Tonka gives me a whole new facet to love: gourmand vetiver! With neroli in the top aiding in creating that tang I can literally feel on my tongue (literally), to the tonka and hazelnut combo which creates an entirely different mouthwatering sensation, these two aspects stand side-by-side in my "vision" of the fragrance, not exactly blended to create a separate entity, but working together from start to finish, distinguishable one from the other the whole time, always retaining that sour quality that is simply "delicious." The side benefit of this great fragrance is I don't think one could be in a bad mood wearing it... it's so cheerful but not ridiculous or immature. Good job, JC! :)

Egoiste is stunningly beautiful, rich, and tenacious. In an effort to convey with words the texture of it (because it is fascinating), the best one I can come up with is oily, thick lamp oil. When sprayed, it "rests" on the top of my skin as though I've applied some sort of amazing smelling suspension, my skin drenched in it, can only absorb so much and the rest is left on the surface to radiate into the air. This is my impression of the effect of course, because it's not literally oily. It's as though the ingredients were folded carefully into a thick, smooth emulsion, nothing stands out, everything perfectly blended, the sandalwood and vanilla taking the main stage from beginning to end. I love the way the higher pitched ingredients give this an almost off-putting old dresser closet wood impression at the opening. There's something discordant there but it's addictive and delicious, as is the entire Egoiste experience. I didn't appreciate this when I first smelled it at age 20 and I don't think I should have been expected to, but now, 10 years later, I see the rich, dense sandalwood beauty that Egoiste is.

When I smell this I want to DUMP it on my body, swim in it, bathe in it... I HEART this fragrance. It is a crisp with the natural sweetness of a cut-open orange, yet PERFECTLY bitter citrus. I mean seriously, ladies and gentleman you could put this on ice and serve it as a cool, refreshing summer beverage. Incidentally, I have a splash bottle and spread a palm full of it on my chest, neck, inner elbow area and wrists making sure to get some on my shirt, too. And it rewards me by reminding me of itself for hours, without ever being offensive.

This is the definition of softness... Not downy softness or pillow soft, but the creamy softness of a thick, white flower petal; the softest skin imaginable. To dumb this review up a bit, it reminds me of the flavor of a milk and almond infused fruit flavored TUMS in its pastel fruited (I say this tentatively as it does not give the impression in any way of "fruit") opening. But really digging my nose in I get an Iris and honey, plain as day, rounded without the hint of a sharp edge. It's like white paint... dense and creamy smooth.

The most fascinating part of this is that it seems as light as snow, I suppose, but dense enough to sink your teeth into, if that's possible to imagine, and is very long lasting. There is just NO hint of alcohol edge here, just simple, utter creamy softness.

It's all true... all that you've read and heard, and that's why I love M7 so much. You really will smell Band-Aids. You really will smell red cough syrup. You will smell resinous precious oud and rich amber which starts heavy and dries down to a marshmallow softness. You will smell the hint of a pine forest and tree bark. This smells like NOTHING I've experienced before.

Yes, this is what I've been waiting for. Five years after its launch I'm smelling it for the first time and it wipes nearly EVERYTHING off the 2007 department store counters with its unique, sensual, medicinal, rich, complex, luxurious beauty. I'm simply smitten. Every time I raise my wrist to my nose my pulse quickens just a little. I'd pay three times the amount I paid for this. Based on the attention it has garnered I bought this blind, spotting it dusty, in its wrapper, in a back, back corner of a sale shelf in a fragrance shop in Mexico, with a fluorescent blue sign above it that said Promocion 30% (it deserves to be behind glass at Bergdorf Goodman) and I am so glad I did.

If you love niche oddness and exclusivity, you will have no trouble loving M7. Oh, yeah!...

I can understand why this is a cult fragrance. It is unique, rich, sensuous, and provocative. It opens with a deep dark maroon berry note, as though the berries were being simmered on the stove with spices and tea (and to be 100% honest, every time I smell it I'm reminded of the smell of my sister's old Strawberry Shortcake dolls and/or the waxiness of a fine scented candle). But don't let me to lead you astray. Scent Intense is all about amber and woods (and I suppose tea but I can't, as many times as I wear it, pick that note out singularly, and if it were tea I could imagine it wouldn't be jasmine but Darjeeling or something darker and more pungent). On me the only changes I note in a day's wearing are of course a lessening of intensity, and a very smooth and gradual transition of that berry element into amber luxuriousness. This fragrance has weight and texture: it feels like you could literally eat it with a fork and knife, it's so rich and resinous, and that is what I absolutely love about Scent Intense.

It's not just about sugar which is a good thing. Reading the fragrance pyramid is almost like reading a checklist of what one experiences throughout his day with Blue Sugar, except for I get loads of cedar right at the beginning and it settles way into that background hours after application. The notes which constantly shout at me as I wear this are licorice/anise, caramelized sugar, and cedar, drying down to a buttery vanilla caramel base which is somehow not as immature as one might imagine. I can see this being a pleasantly surprising fragrance to find on - and snuggle up to- the neck of a loved one in a romantic moment, but my long day with it was a little difficult. There were moments I wanted to jump ship but I held on and in the end it really wore me, as they say.. it clashed with everything in my natural surroundings: hand soap, others' fragrances, the smell and taste of my lunch, the smell of the out doors. My whole day was ruled by Aquolina Blue Sugar and I know I didn't over apply because I have a small tester and I only used about 1/8" of it. Thus, I say, this would be a nice romantic "evening in" kind of scent, or great for a fall night in a cafe watching the leaves blow around outside. This smells great if you take it at face value and realize it is what it was meant to be: a dessert gourmand with a touch of cedar and anise to give it a masculine edge.

"For the modern man who knows what he desires... blah blah blah" Yes, it's one of those... in that it's not different, it's not limited edition, it's not one of a kind, it's not niche, it doesn't tell a story, it doesn't whisper dirty secrets in your ear, but it does smell good. Past the top notes, we have something so familiar that you could switch bottles with half the offerings at designer fragrance counters and not know the difference. But in the top there is mango, a little sour and leaning a little towards mango/cilantro puree: I do smell fresh cilantro in there whether it's there or not. After a while the top notes mingle with the aquatics of the middle creating a relaxing, breezy freshness. Underneath all of this, from beginning to end I sense the haziness of soft woods, or something like wood dust, which adds a subtle sensuality. I just can't find the patchouli. I know it's there because a) they named it "patchouli noire" and b) there IS something earthy and sensual going on in the base but it doesn't present itself rawly like patchouli can do. A couple hours down the road, this dries down to a nice woody/aquatic that is light years from anything dark, mysterious, or, well, black.

I love the fact that Comme des Garcons Original is not illusive and doesn't make you fight to understand it. It is what it is: an intoxicating blend of spices working together to create a very well balanced fragrance that is as far away from any possible connotations of the words "perfume" and/or "cologne" that you can get.

I understand the idea of medicinal but it doesn't smell like any medicines I've experienced. Rather, it reminds me of the Yogi teas sold in health food stores or spicy Chai so perhaps medicinal meaning traditional herbal medicines. But this is all about woods and spices, evocative of those used in traditional European holiday cooking and baking rather than of Asian and middle eastern foods. Though just when I think this is a tame blend of friendly (yet very strong) spices, I get a kick of dry cumin that flips this around and takes it in another direction for a while. These are some seriously tangible spices. You can almost feel their ground texture in your nose. I love the way it gives you a nice slap in the head at the beginning and leaves you to recover and think about it. But in the end it takes you in its arms and says, "it's ok it's ok... it's all over now... here, have some of this nice calming spiced tea I've made for you... I put some honey in just the way you like! This should make you feel aaallll right!"

Yum! What an incredibly refreshing, sweetly delicious citrus green opening. It's like jumping into a cool, crisp spring on a hot summer day. As with many vetiver scents I've experienced, this passes through a moment of orange blossom or perhaps jasmine - white floral at any rate - so much so that it actually makes me forget about the citrus and vetiver that was so apparent at the beginning. Once that floral moment has passed (and it passes quickly) I smell the grassier vetiver coming into prominence with its citrus components always standing closeby mumbling.

As for the dirt, I'm just not getting it. Encre Noire, now that's some dirty vetiver, and Comme des Garcons 2 MAN... whoah! But this remains very clean on me through its duration.

Sometimes vetivers to me smell like an idea of freshness whose time has come and gone. But this one is sharp enough, crisp enough, and slightly sour enough to give it a modern edge. And a natural smelling beauty like this from Comme des Garcons! Who knew?

Green... Pink... Green... Pink... That is what my mind thinks of as I smell this.

Comme des Garcons 3 reminds me of a movie I once saw called Ma vie en Rose (My life in pink) which has a few scenes where the kid travels to a funny world where everything is made of plastic... plastic trees, the colors are uber minimalst, like a world made of Legos or something.

The opening is very grassy to me, sharp, VERY leafy, and actually, REAL and fresh, like the smell of a crushed leaf. Then as it dries down it obtains this very two dimensional nature, and ends up (I don't know HOW they did this) to smell like a fake flower which elicits a very detached green, and a very detached floral. This is fragrance art that is interesting in that I sense that it belongs in a modern art museum rather than on a person.

I will join the group that was surprised by the scent after hearing the name and seeing the bottle. My initial impression was "smoke!" then... "grass... no, vetiver??" then... "encre noire? vetiver??" But so it is... and it's a very intriguing vetiver at that. The vetiver note in it reminds me of stems left in water too long. There's something a little "passed" about it in that rounded, odd way that something "on its way out" smells. But there's also the most fascinating impression of vetiver plucked from the ground-- fresh wet earth dripping from the roots. So with Encre Noire we have an expectation of something dark, inky, brooding, dangerous, refined. And we receive vetiver, at first sharp with a wisp of smoke, then calm, wilting, slightly muddy. To my nose it is a portrate of vetiver in its most natural state.

This is brilliantly sophisticated. It is as if Lalique has infused a cedar plank with 24 Karat gold and shone a light upon it to enhance its luminescent richness. With juniper berries, cardamom, and citrus notes (very refined) to add to the golden shimmer of the opening, this dries down to a sensual, masculine spicey, woody masterpiece, cedar-esque in tone, color, and weight. It seems like the antithesis of the transparency that so many fragrance lovers are lamenting these days, but at the same time, one could never consider this heavy or stifling. The bottle’s strength and beauty is a gorgeous reaffirmation of its contents. This is a timeless, ageless classic.

The simplicity of this fragrance is what makes it so beautiful. It is crystaline and pristine, yet masculine (though my mom owns and loves this) and sophisticated... uncomplicated. It reminds me of a young father in khakis and a crisp white shirt scooping up his giggling daughter on Easter morning. The initial moments have the slightest antibacterial hand towel feel, but the amber quickly moves in to slightly soften and round out the somewhat austere lavender, leaving me with the impression of a sugared ginger candy in the dry down which admittedly fades rather quickly. Beautiful if not simple in the best way.

Oh how I love it. Oh how I deeply love CdG 2 Man. How can one not love resins, woods, incense, and VETIVER all rolled into one? It's earthy, fascinating, burning, smoky, sensual, warm, abstract, and a true work of art. In terms of sillage this is brilliant. In clubs, smoky bars, and, well, everywhere, you will be noticed! Please as a personal favor to me, allow this to unfold until you get the vetiver note. Holy lord, when the curtain of incense and woods parts, the vetiver takes its bow and it deserves a standing ovation. Yes, it's that good.

RSVP didn't impress me, but it does smell good. It opens with a citrus clarity, and when that quickly fades I get an amber/light wood softness that is really intimate and gentle. Not long into the journey I smell a green grass note that is unexpected but interesting coming out of the hazy amber wood center. There is a clenliness here, too. So I guess what all this means is, in the most simple way, R.S.V.P is a fragrance of contrasts but each twist and turn is VERY sublte and it all adds up to a fragrance that does not inspire superlatives. Soft, light, woody, handsome, plain. This is a good Christmas present for a guy who doesn't know any better :)

Being a huge fan of Quelques Fleurs (I personally believe it is one of the most drop dead beautiful perfume creations of all time) I had to try Apercu. And if they haven't done it again, Apercu is one of the most gorgeous chypres I have ever experienced. If the word sophistication had a smell this would be it. It does have a lot in common with Aromatics Elixir but there is a roundness and richness here... Where Elixir is sharp and edgey, this is poised and upright, graceful . If you love the Guerlain chypres, please please please allow yourself the chance to experience this world class fragrance.

This is simply one of the most beautiful expressions of citrus in all of perfumery. It's refined but fresh, established but modern. Fresh really knows what they are doing.

WOW! So minimalistically sensual. Dry dry dry black pepper (really, it smells like cracked pepper) and hot ashy insense with little to no sweetness on my skin. This is interesting as a wearable fragrance but also smells like something I could imagine as an exclusive room fragrance, candle or scented oil. This one more than the others in the series, belongs in the bottle it comes in. A truly unique, artistic expression in modern perfumery.

Yet another beautiful, natural contribution to the Hermes line by Jean Claude Ellena. In few words, here I smell salty slightly sour mango. The frangrance didn't change much from start to finish on my skin, save for the citrus starting quite strong and fading only slightly after an hour, where I really get the scent of MANGO.. big ripe totally natural non-artificial mango... It's beautiful and it dries down hours and hours later to an insanely clean, soft finish.

It must be noted that this is a natural, green, mature fruit fragrance that, miraculously, has incredible staying power. As noted by Chandler Burr in his article about the creative process behind Le Nil, Ellena worked hard to achieve this longevity and his work payed off. Wonderful!

Perhaps because of the wateriness of cucumber, my initial impression was of a melon note. As the fragrance unfolded I imagined an apple composed of various flower buds and petals, which is essentially what this is all about. At no point in the experience do I really smell "apple" but the luscious, moist impression is made for sure. The opening is very fresh, aquatic, fruity, and floral and remains that way throughout to a degree; the sharper notes softening when the florals are revealed. In the end the rose is really prominent and serves to round out and give a more grounded body to the fragrance.

This is really beautiful. Though by reading the ingredients (mandarin, key lime, cardamom, cinnamon, cranberry, ginger, waterlily, sandalwood, blue iris, white musk) I would never have imagined it to have been such a refined fragrance, and I generally don't like ginger in perfumes but here it's utilized delectably. Valentino gold is a shimmering, sophisticated fragrance which to me recalls a prewar Guerlain aesthetic. Subtantial yet not overpowering - truly gorgeous.

This is really lovely and intensely feminine! It's sweet and simple and a beautiful balancing act of floral/sweet/warmth, even in this lighter concentration. I actually find nothing lacking in this version at all. Though nothing can replace No. 5, I find Allure to be a modern expression of its aethetic ideals.

It's true about the vanilla. You sense it from the beginning even when the fresh citrus and florals are doing their work. But I enjoy the way the almost sharp magnolia note plays against the warmth of the vanilla. In the end it dries down in a similar fashion to practically all new sensual feminines these days, with the wood/vanilla/ dusty, ambery base, similar in feel to Hypnose and distantly, to Allure.

The thing I love about No. 5 is that it is so opaque in the lightest way. It's so light pink in color to me, but the scent itself is rich, like seeing light pink paint freshly mixed in the paint can. Some fragrances allow light to shine in, some are dark and we're caught in their molecule cloud, things wizzing around this way and that. But this is so settled, so serene in its uncluttered beauty. Perhaps if this were Guerlain and it sat on the shelves next to Mitsouko and L'eur Bleu and Shalimar and Jicky, it wouldn't stand out quite as much, but whatever the case, it is what it is... an icon.

Yum! For the first 5 minutes I was trying to place to citrus fruit I was smelling most prominently, and finally I realized it reminded me MOST of the grapefruit my mom used to cut up for me and sprinkle sugar on top of. This is a very sweet, yet not syrupy, citrus. I sense the sharper currant note really come through after the initial citrus haze dies down a bit giving it the slightest fruit punch flavor. The thing about this is, it's not all citrus citrus citrus happiness. There is a sweet sensuality given to it from the base notes. This is a thoughtful and lovely little fragrance that if meant to truly resemble love, seems to recall the first pangs felt by teenagers and young adults.

This is a very seductive fragrance, a passing, over-the-shoulder glance in a floor-length gown. The EDT starts very rich, dark but not confusing or overpowering. An atypical musk accord, amber, and sweet woods combine to create a dense fragrance, a dark veil of sensuality. Similar (yet richer) to my nose in philosophy to Prada's feminine amber.

Cardamom, lime, lemon, mandarin, galbanum/ jasmine, muguet/ sandalwood, treemoss, musk. Translation: a less sharp more natural version of CK1. I am not alone in this simplistic yet acurate review of this fragrance. The similarities are uncanny. Now you know... a fresh light citrus. A modern turn for the traditional Penhaligon's.

Citrusy green, with a head tilting oddness that is so intriguing. After the opening dries down, the ginger and ambergris add a not-offputting sour saltiness that gives this vibrancy. The vetiver is revealed more prominently on my skin after about an hour. I love that this is never really sweet, and on my skin retains that sort of sour citrus note through to the VERY end where the musk smooths things out. There is something so natural about this, so out doors: citrus, grass and leaves, fresh water puddles after a rain storm in the forest. Very well done. p.s. Mugler Cologne? Distant 2nd cousin thrice removed at best.

Though a bit sharp, this fragrance is a really nice fruity floral that yes, is... happy. I saw this on Samantha's bathroom toilet in an episode of Sex and the City and thought, "did they really think Samantha would wear Spring Flower?? It's so girly and free sprirted." But that's the beauty of Spring Flower, it's youthful but ageless. It reminds me the brightness of Gucci Envy and it seems to sour a bit after about 30 minutes on my skin, a little bit like when one holds a penny for a couple seconds, but in general, nice... not fresh, not particularly floral, just bright a bright and friendly fragrance.

This is very intriguing. There is a sharp fruit/green opening juxtaposed by rich gormand aspects like chocolate nutty vanilla (especially on the skin, this hazlenut comes forward). I couldn't agree more with the comparison to Angel (it waffles between recalling aspects of both the men's and women's versions). It is very complex but in the end warm, rich, and comfortable. I own A Men so I didn't buy it but when I run out I think I'll replace it with this.

This is an interesting idea and i see the vision here, which to an extent makes this a success. It is all things beach without being salty or coconut/pineapple. I actually detect a strong-at-first-faint-later non-aerosol hair spray scent in this that lights up every time I smell it. But with all these scents, there's a calm sense of quality here which is aparent from the beginning. I can picture a fresh young woman really carrying this off well at the beach or any summer day. It really is FRESH and CLEAN (as in fresh like Gendarme but with more staying power), but that hairspray thing... again, an interesting concept at the very least. Pleasant.

The Banana Republic people may have originally named this Black Walnut Spiced Warm Holiday Raisin Rum Pudding Bread. Despite the fact that it is a mall brand, I would simply love to smell like this. It is remarkable. My faux title really doesn't do it justice either... it isn't SO foody but it does hint at those notes for sure. it is a gently masculine, comfortable, polished, rounded, uncluttered, rich (but not at all opaque or syrupy) fragrance... a slightly warmer Versace Dreamer to my nose.

I have realized of late that this dirty that everyone seems to be repelled by yet secretly desiring to experience is cumin, plain and simple. Just take a little cumin powder to your wrists and spray on any favorite perfume to give it that "naughty (is the seemingly favorite word)" touch. It actually works. Really, there is a deep, rich fragrance here. The initial minute is actually a dark, rich floral burst. The cumin IS interesting conceptually but I find it more a study in scent combinations rather than a beautifully wearable fragrance. I can imagine McQueen requesting something dangerous and the perfumer running straight to this cumin note. In the end it's a rich and alluringly dark fragrance.

Well, it *is* different, we can give it that. My question always about Comme des Garcons is, if I didn't know what was going on here would my opinion of it change? There is something detatched and oddly lonely about this. It's like walking in an industrial landscape or a sterile corporate megaplex in the middle of nowhere, picking up some of the grass coming from the riding lawnmower that is making the only sound in the pristinely vacant scene.

Odeur 71 is the sweetness we all smell when we smell things we feel silly about smelling. The inside of a glossy brochure, the funny sweet smell of duct tape, the smell of a hot computer or TV and their warm plastic and whirring inner parts. This is funny... I was thinking pen ink and looked up to see, and sure enough, it was in the listed ingredients! If I could try to "get in there" and figure out what natural ingredients are creating this effect, I'd assume something grassy, something rubbery, something lightly smokey (especially in the opening moments), something like light clean soil. But the end result really is "office" or "vacant modern space", totally gray, clean, like the standard plastics used to cover office equipment, and I don't even want to aesthetically strip it of its vision by trying to figure that out.

A lot of things that aren't typically fragrant have a smell, and we know those smells are there, and Comme des Garcons has bottled many of them into a fascinating fragrance that seems more appropriate for study than for wear. Of course that's up to the individual as it is certainly far less repellent than many of the more standard fragrance offerings available today from large designer houses in department stores. Thumbs up for uniqueness and artistic integrity.

This is one of those fragrances that smells interesting conceptually but perhaps is not so convincing as a wearable fragrance. It's a spacial fragrance... that is, it reminds me more of a high end, unique room spray or candle but not necesarily for use on the skin of a human being. The list of notes creates a beautiful image but unfortunately the end result is not quite successful. I get a big helping of a cumin type note, and I get a lot of VERY light, soft woods, reminiscent of the combined scents of an unoccupied new office building or a large warehouse... perhaps a log cabin. I was very much intrigued by this artistically speaking but in the end I just wanted to wash it off. Sophisticated, minimalistic, more modern, more muted version of a classic gentleman's fragrance.

I very rarely give a thumbs down but this seems like a good idea gone bad. I know that Rochas Man (which I don't like) is a gormand and so is A Man (which I ver much DO like), but that's where the similarities end for me so I won't even waste time describing why they are different.

Rochas Man immediately smells sour and burnt, YES, like burnt sugar combined with the sourness of coffee left scorching in the pot. The green of the opening confuses the situation. Yes it calms down but always retains this sharpness that I can't appreciate. I also really don't like the bottle. For me this is a disaster from start to finish.

I too was a little surprised. I imagined a brooding, darker, richer fragrance but this actually smells of innocence, a young girl, a delicate flower resting on a reassuring cloud of resinous vanilla. The first minutes reminded me a great deal of the uberfreshness of Gucci Envy, but that faded quickly to reveal a warmer, softer side reminiscent to my nose of Chanel Allure.

I don't see how this is more feminine than any of the other frangrances in the Blu line-up, including those for men. Continuing with the ode to baby wipes theme that pervades these fragrances, but with a alcohol/glass-like clarity at the beginning. With the other Blu's I sense they will get richer (especially the Notte's), even at the beginning when the fresh notes hang in the air... this one tells me it will stay lighter, fresher. The opening is almost like The Dreamer, but please don't get me wrong, it's not even close to the genius that is the Versace. After the initial burst I get a dry tobaco leaf coupled with tea leaf note that still doesn't hint at being particularly feminine at all. A bit later a slight anise note comes through slowly but very surely, and it almost hints at nail polish remover. Actually, that olfactory memory hovers over this composition from the beginning. Is this mysterious note the ginger from the other Blu fragrances?

This fragrance is so clear and crystaline. It's actually quite beautiful in an alcohol type of sweetness that can only be explaned in the chemical sweetness that comes from nailpolish remover. That sounds bad but it's actually not. It's unique and that's why I can appreciate it but would never imagine buying it.

This has a huge family resemblance (HUGE) with Blu Notte pour Homme, Blu, and Blu pour Homme. They all have that initial baby wipe fizz opening that has to be tolerated in order to get to the good part. Read the pyramid and its hard to imagine the smell of what that would be like until you actually are wearing this fragrance. I'm sorry, I'm sorry... but imagine baby wipe, inside of clean diaper, on top of chocolate, and you have this fragrance. Somehow though, that kinda smells good... Not full bottle worthy but interesting nonetheless.

This fragrance gets right down to business, that is, dispenses quickly with the top and middle notes. The base notes revealed themselves prominently in the first 15 minutes of wearing this. Starts beautifully, like (yes, the reports are true) a softened, rounded, refined Angel and then moves into the more resinous, powdery amber notes; I missed the florals completely. Depending on where you read, some believe this smells too "old" and it does actually remind me a tad of my grandmother. I believe that stems from the powder sensation that comes from the overall amber impression left from the combination of the base note ingredients. In the end, this is soft, powdery amber, elegant and beautiful.

Incidentally, the artistic integrity of the design philosophy of both this and the male Amber (Prada pour Homme) is remarkable... the male version leaves on the skin a saltier, more insensy interpretation of amber after a clean, barber shop soap opening, both both conjur the idea of amber beautifully.

Opening like a fresher, cleaner, lighter Code, one feels the Armani family link in this fragrance as well, a slightly spicy but velvety, insensy foundation. Where Code is opaque, Mania is translucent, but still beautiful. The base, after two hours, is a present, sweet, incense (with the hint of softness of a drier sheet) that's just simply... nice. Mania? no... it doesn't impress me that much, like Code does, but I can imagine why someone would want to buy this. It simply smells good without making much of a statement, and retaining a character different from the rest of the offerings flooding the department store shelves.

I LOVE IT when I get really excited about a new frangrance and it ends being so similar to something I already have that it's not worth purchasing. This fragrance is, on my skin, VERY similar to Lalique Pour Homme Equus, though I don't notice Cedar in the fragrance pyramid. The richer Equus takes the prize here for its beauty and elegance, though for summer, I could imagine Gucci having a slight advantage for its lighter nature, it's more modern take in its slightly crisper cleaner woods, and especially for the coolness it evokes in the first inhale.

Think sweet cedar, tea after it has cooled to room temperature and then throw in an ice cube, cinnamon, and you have Gucci II Pour Homme.

This is as dark as the bottle it comes in. I envision big, wet scent molecules seeping into my skin after it's sprayed. It is rich, and surprisingly complex but in a way that its complexity comes together to perform a singular unified task, not to go through the typical handoff of ingredients and layers. It is at once fresh as rich, clean with an underlying darkness. It seems so male on one inhale and then with the rich florals, rather feminine. It's as if it just depends on what I picture when I close my eyes: a man or a woman.

Incidentally this seemed like it could be similar to the base of some of the great perfumes of the past, and one of the mixes was astonishing... I sprayed Bulgari Eau Te Rouge on top of it and it morphed into something VERY rich... extremely reminiscent of the masterpiece by Houbigant, Quelques Flores.

There is a lot of beauty and artistry in this fragrance. It's a great rich, floral musk.

From Kiehls:
top: Bergamot Nectar, Orange Blossom
mid:Rose, Lily, Ylang ylang, Neroli
bottom: tonka, white patchouli, musk

This is perhaps one of the most transportive fragrances I've ever experienced. That is, some fragrances recall a moment, a thought, an idea, some envelop, some repell. But this puts me in a different place, somewhere in ancient Greece or Rome. I see pillars and dry brush growing out of a dry and dusty landscape. It is at once modern and classical. Acrid, arid, yet warm and enticing. I love it love it love it, though my first experience with it was not so glowing. I had to really commit to it, wear it a full day, exclusively (not just try it in the store) and experience its every move. What a grand payoff.

It was only after this sensory experience that I visited the fantastic website terredhermes.com, where in motion, the landscape (save the classical architecture) I envisioned flashed before me somehow confirming that Ellena's intent, the story he wanted to tell, the picture he wished to convey, was phenomenal success.

That in itself makes this one of the most respectable works of art I've yet experienced in fragrance.

This fragrance has a hold on me. It is simply one of the most sexually evocative compositions out there. Perhaps influenced by the bottle, I envision the man who wears this to be young, of the SOHO, Village, Manhattan variety... masculine, self assured, handsome, and clothed in jeans, a black tee shirt, with perhaps a black leather wrist band. It is definitely a club or nocturnal activities fragrance, not at all suitable for the office, spring time or summer days. It is rich and velvety and very dense but not syrupy, yes, with a mysterious fruit note in between apple and strawberry, but with SO MUCH MORE that I'd hate for someone to pass it up based on that overly simplified olfactory focal point.

Perhaps what I love so much about XS is that it IS sweet, but no a liquid sweet, but rather a drier, pointed, heated sweet. The woods, the amber, and a cinnamon note I detect, give it richness but at once, a sublte, sensual vivaciousness that spell s.e.x. to me. Perhaps not a must have, but for all eager fragrance lovers, a MUST TRY! 4/5

This fragrance is one of a kind. At first bitter, sour, later a bit soapy, with a lingering sweetness that finds its roots in the base, I receive mental images of raisins, dried fruits and berries, dry, sweet tobacco perhaps soaked in tea, and wilting white flowers. It at once delivers clarity and darkness, clenliness and maroon-y richness. Exquisitely intoxicating!

One more of my Collectors Must Haves, this fragrance is truly unique. After a few minutes, I don't simply smell red tea, I smell a creamy, powdery red tea which on a man is very intriguing. A unisex fragrance such as this one, on a man, doesn't exactly smell like he's wearing "cologne" because it's so unexpected. Rather, it wraps the wearer in a warm, rich aura. The red I see is not the clear red of the bottle, but rather, the rich maroon on the label. This fragrance, on me, is one of the few in my collection that always receives lustily inquisitive comments. Give this a few minutes to dissipate before judging it. After about a half hour, the richer, warmer notes reveal themselves and therin lies the sensuality of this incredible fragrance.

I have a COLLECTORS MUST OWN list (male) with one of the major criterion being that the fragrance be truly unique, and Armani Code is on that list. It is SO VERY intriguing and sensual, dry and dusty, yet sweet and insensy.

The first blast is like inhaling a molecule cloud, or like watching a snow channel on TV: spice, sour citrus, insense, powder and more, all scrambling to find their place. What is so ABSOLUTELY fantastic about this fragrance is that on me, I smell a slight hint of warm, salty, sweat, almost cumin like, that blends INTOXICATINGLY with the sweeter oriental side of the composition. I get this from the VERY beginning (I assume it stems from the gaiac wood's warm/salt and sharpness of the citrus). In NO WAY is this a foul odor. On the contrary, it adds to the amazing mysterious darkness of this fascinating fragrance.

This is a VERY itriguing, extremely sensual fragrance that somehow seems to tap into and enhance the rawness of a man's personal, natural scent. I simply can't get enough. And if you love this I strongly suggest Lanvin Arpege pour Homme.

This is as crystaline and clear as glass, and with a celery-like sharp greenness: green notes whizzing around on the first inhale. Think green leaves, grass and the lime scent of Yuzu, with a dusty powdering of amber and very light colored dry wood element. There's violet leaf in here, too, which adds such a crisp, cool, refreshing element to the composition. It really is very well-balanced and very uniquely clean without being immature or simple. This is another fragrance which to me is all on its own which is always very exciting to me (though Creed does greens well, none of them are green in this way)... to see fragrance designers stepping off to the side occasionally. With this fragrance I imagine the wearer walking confidently knowing he or she is wearing something different, and that alone makes EdC Concentree special. In its category (clean, green fragrance - its cristaline crispness being unmatched) it is very worthy of a thumbs up. 4/5

I could not improve on odysseusm's spot on report. I might only add that if it is your intention to smell like a man who actually did bathe (quickly) and put on cologne and then worked in a hot mechanic's workshop for 10 hours in Florida, but on his lunch break went home and mowed the lawn with his old walking mower spewing black fumes, this is the fragrance for you. Phew!

I was so excited to get out and try Dior Homme after reading about it here. The bottle is beautiful. Yes, it's different. I've never smelled another men's fragrance like it. But I have smelled SOMEthing like it... a chapstick type lip balm my sister used when we were kids... Like the lip balm, Dior Homme is so MUTED. It's so ROUNDED, it is possibly one of the most boring fragrances I've ever encountered. Like a cloud of nothing, a fragrance black hole. But never being hasty to cast judgement I gave it time...

It simply didn't seem to change in a positive way on me. It just got MORE boring, if that's possible. I was expecting so much more from this Dior offering. But in the endI think I would have gotten better sillage from rubbing my sister's childhood lip balm on my wrists.

This composition makes me realize that each person has his or her own tastes and one man's trash is another's treasure as they say. I am SURE there are many many satisfied Dior Homme customers, but I can't imagine how that happens. That said, it's not actually BAD. So, 2 out of 5 for originality and bottle design.

As I've noted before, I believe some of the harsher critiques on these pages lack the patience to see where a fragrance is going, and to where it eventually arrives.

First, to my olfactory recollection, there are no other "homme" fragrances quite like this one. Often too spicy or too dry, they lack to complexity I require. In other words, a subtle sweetness that puts the poet's pen to paper. This men's fragrance has that complexity.

Smellig this on others is what got me into the store to try it myself and of course what I experienced initially had me wondering if I'd been lied to. The citrus was almost... ALMOST, too much, but as I waited I realized that the sharpness of the opening notes is what fuels the fire to burn the woods so to speak.

Again, to give a bad review of the top notes seems short sighted because the genius of this composition and what sets it apart from the rest is in the base. The GORGEOUS, sensual, warm, masculine, wooded base. Here the tonka serves to sweeten and warm the woods and it just lingers, begging a closer examination. The BASE is perhaps one of the most assured and beautiful statements of masculinity in all of men's perfumery. The composition includes so many ingredients that make up traditional mens offerings but with the sweetness and citrus that only suggest themselves at the end of the olfactory journey, this really stands alone.

That said, I doubt I'll ever own it and it is not on my COLLECTORS MUST OWN list. It does make a statement and I'm not sure that statement describes me. But I appreciate smelling it on others a great deal.

This is my only aquatic. It is to my nose the only aquatic. I know others exist with potentially finer ingredients (perhaps from Creed but even Creed I believe lacks the conviction to truly pull off an aquatic like this) but this is aquatic like no other. I coudn't dissagree more with the comparison to Armani's offering. This is FAR FAR FAR more sophisticated because the entire composition is a balancing act, and an exquisitely executed one at that. One senses from the first inhale (spray from about 6-8 inches in a wide mist so as not to overpower) an immediate bow to the salt air of the sea, countered by to my nose a fleeting white petal note. This aspect, whether or not the composition contains any flowers at all, is what sets this FAR ABOVE the other aquatics offered. This balancing act of clean/fresh, versus rich sophistication. It's got a real weight to it.

This fragrance simply smells masterfully composed. It is fresh, it does conjur the salt air of the sea, it is NOT overly sweet, and the balance of spice, sweet, and fresh is so exquisite I can't imagine a better aquatic blend. I simply can not.

This is a fragrance about which one can wax poetic. Other aquatics simply do not have the complexity, balance, nor elegance to come close to Bulgari Aqua. And not that this ever matters to me but it always always ALWAYS garners sensually groaning compliments without fail.

I own this fragrance and after reading the reviews I decided to reevaluate my original opinion. Originally, I smelled it an magazine at a friend's house and was instantly taken aback, passing the ad to my mom and her friend. They were so stricken by how different it was, so genderless (yet miles and miles from feminine or infantile) and so unique. It is simply, a fragrance, a way to adorn onesself in a scent that need not define itself masculine nor feminie. A divine fragrance that absolutely, more than many out there, has so much to offer as the composition unfolds on the skin. The first burst IS a bit soapy, powdery, almost the color of the liquid itself. But after about an hour the exquisite ingredients which make up the dry amber interpretation come through. And after a couple hours, I LITERALLY feel like I'm smelling a box of square cut dry amber, GINGERY, dusty, brownish tan, lightly sweet. It stays close to the skin, and if you can manage a few minutes of "a little too much" spray twice on each wrist... the result is more concentration of the INCREDIBLE base. The base is what MAKES THIS FRAGRANCE truly great.

After experiencing so many fragrances out there, this is something truly different. I believe those who don't like its qualities or believe it's too feminine, powdery, or soapy (clean soap was part of the design philosophy I hear) have not given the fragrance its due time to unfold. It is in the second and third hour that the mark is struck.

I believe this is not exactly my idea of a Prada man. Somehow I feel something like Armani Code fits that bill more, but in viewing Prada's crisp, minimal frill free lines, I can see how this composition exemplifies that. I picture the smell of a minimalistic, stark, dry, yet modern art filled home in Italy, or perhaps a loft of the same descripition in SoHo. This is something extraordinary in a vast valley of way too similar fragrance offerings for men these days. A MUST have in any serious collection.

I can not support this fragrance. It is too strong. Everytime someone wears it I think, "that guy's wearing Curve." And that's not a good thing. It seems to overpower every situation. I had a friend who wore it and a coworker who filled the office with it as it radiated off his skin. It's just too pushy for me. My dad bought it but thankfully he's smart enough to mix it with other fragrances to give it more depth although that hardly helps. The one thing I'll give it (and I'll end up disagreeing with some of you here) is that it's generic. I can't see that because everytime I smell it I know what it is... CURVE just passed me in the park... CURVE just passed me in the hallway... CURVE just passed me on the freeway with its windows rolled up going 65 miles per hour. That said, it's not horrible. Though, I'll give it a thumbs down because if I can't give one to this I can't give one to any of them...

I don't know HOW it happens but occasionally, I'll go back to a fragrance and try it again, and the overall experience is completely different. This is one such fragrance. The first time I wore it I was reminded of the ghastly Curve (no offense) and feared someone would think I'd have Curve taste so I avoided it but I have to admit it was a hasty trial. But a month later, I'm wearing it again, and have REapplied it once already today because it's just so good I want to experience the drydown again. I know it's expensive and I'm not influenced by the price when I say that it is just so beautifully blended. SO beautifully blended with quality ingredients. The crisp opening is pointy and fresh almost like the bottle design without the purple. On my skin in warm weather, that lasted a while... a good 20 minutes or more. The drydown is a subtle woody conversation with the jasmine which adds the subtle beauty... It's soft but not powdery soft. The cinnamon lies in the background giving a point to each phase of the journey, but it's almost impossible to note. As I try to describe this one, I almost feel as though I'm doing it an injustice because it seems like it just wants to be enjoyed from start to finish in a simple way without analysis. As with all masterfully blended fragrances, each ingredient plays its part subtley and hands each moment of the experience off to the next. Not terribly unique but very very well done. It's another that has me smelling my wrists regardless of the opinions of others, in the middle of conversations. :)

By the way it reminds me of a fragrance I smelled in Berdorf Goodman MAN in 1996 that cost about $175 a bottle . I know that's not a lot of info but with all the experts here, maybe someone could recall the name of that fragrance as BG doesn't carry many at a time.

I have been sitting with this tester for months, spraying it occasionally and it has a hold on me. I don't want to like it because it's confusing but I really can't let it go. When I wear it my nose is burried in my wrists, trying to grasp the next corner the fragrance will turn. It is VERY enveloping, it feels like it surrounds me in its richness. But I am a person who buys fragrances simply because I like them without thinking of wear and when I'll use them. This is an intimate fragrance, rich, velvety, with subtle spice. The warmth is beautiful. It is not extremely masculine, but just simply, a rich, beautiful scent.

What IS that? Though the Blv has even more of it, there is a definite olfactory punch that lights up, "baby wipes!" It is unique enough to go into my collection (because I am usually drawn to fragrances that set themselves apart) save for this gigantic flashing bilboard. The richer, darker notes of the Notte give it much more appeal than it's unfortunate stable mate and I've gone to buy it twice and each time at the last minute I remember, "in a romantic moment, do you want the other person thinking, 'baby wipes?'" And I move on to something else. I keep the tester around for those moments of curiosity, but that's the biggest commitment I can make to this fragrance.