I get beer in a plastic cup. Next!
The nice yuzu opening is quickly overpowered by violet. And more violet. And.... ok, you get it. To disclose a bias, I seriously don't like violet. The original, softer, more likeable (for me) Eau de Cartier has about as much violet as I can really get into, so I find this sharp, non-comforting, amped-up version to be quite a bit less attractive than the original. In moderation, I can wear the original. I suppose that this fragrance falls into the "green" category of warm-weather eaux. If you're into that kind of thing, and if violet is your note, you'll like this one. I've given it a fair hearing - 15 wears in my drobe count - and I'm glad to be done with it.
Nice and soft, just the way I like it. This could be your lightest cool-weather fragrance. The rose is perfectly fine, there's only a hint of oud, you've seen the notes in the other reviews. There is a show-stopper in this for me, though, and that's the galbanum. I suppose that was included to dirty it up, since there is a wide body of thought among noses that a fragrance has to be a little dirty to make it masculine. Fine, I say. But not with galbanum. Blech. But I don't want to let my personal taste get in the way, so, thumbs up for this one, and others who seek a light aura of pleasant, good-natured scent surrounding them will like this one.
Just delicious. Perfectly balanced - not too heavy, not too light. Not too dry, not too sweet. Masculine but very smooth and not at all coarse. Too linear for me to completely love it, though. And this may sound a little idiosyncratic, but it also has somewhat more longevity than I really like. I find that, with most forms of companionship, it's great for a while but you don't want your guests to stay forever. There are times when this is kind of like the guest who won't leave. Longevity fanatics will love this fragrance. I guess when RP says it's an EDP, they really mean it. Great for a breezy, cool day outdoors, where you just get perfectly beautiful whisps of it. So you should make sure to pack a bottle of this when you've been invited to spend the day yachting with one of your Russian oligarch friends. I bought my bottle at Bergdorf when they were having sort of a special promo with the Piguet display right inside the 5th Avenue entrance. The RP people were really nice and I got a generous helping of samples and a gwp or two. Definitely a fun purchase experience.
The first hour of this is, for lack of a more eloquent way to put it, just a bad combination of random stuff, in my opinion. After the fruit, berries, overly green notes and whatever else people brought to this potluck dinner trails off into the atmosphere, then you get a smoother, more tolerable incense and dry wood. Not that the dry down is anything to write home about. It's just better than the opening. I like the incense in Cartier's Heure Mysterieuse better than the incense here, so I've finished my sample and this review marks the end of my experiment with Jubilation XXV.
It's been some time - thankfully - since I've come across an honest-to-goodness scrubber but this is, in my view, one of them. And, after having a couple of recent, blissful experiences with Amouage attars, I would also hasten to point out that this fragrance is probably best described as having a lot more in the way of French DNA than it does Middle Eastern ancestry. So to me it's disappointing in that sense too. While sadly acknowledging that this composition comes from the same nose as my beloved Cartier Must Pour Homme, I just can't wear it. If you like Geranium Pour Monsieur, this one could work for you because it's loaded with geranium. There's also pepper and something else that I can't really indentify that reminds me of Bulgari Man. So there you have the comparables and you may proceed as you wish. As for me, I have maybe another two wears in my humble little sample vial and I will try to endure those wears for about an hour each in the hope that I'm able to learn something. There certainly won't be anything pleasurable about it, so I have to try to tell myself that there might be some salvage value in this adventure in the form of expanding my knowledge base.
In the land of audiophiles, there's sort of an intangible holy grail of accuracy and realism called "imaging". It's an attribute that is demanded of speakers and if your speakers are good at imaging, it's said that you can, via sound alone, practically "see" the musicians playing right in front of you.
If there's an olfactory equivalent to audio imaging, this fragrance may win the contest. The opening blasts forth and there's a lime, a spice rack bottle of thyme, and a tangerine right in front of you. The realism of the notes is astonishing, and they're arranged in a way, at the opening, that no one note dominates. If quality is judged by realism, then this is a high quality composition. The opening burst forth and the trio of notes all evoke familiar images, and their simultaneity disorients you a bit because your mind is trying to recall three associations at once.
Some time later, the thyme ends up dominating at the citrus fades. Ultimately, I'm just not that crazy about thyme, so this fascinating little piece of perfumeur's virtuosity isn't going to gain a place in my collection. But it really is quite an experience in artistry and you ought to give it a try just to see how good modern perfumery can get.
What I get from this is vanilla and dead fish. Quite disappointing since I like vanilla and I like Hermes. Usually.
18th April, 2013 (last edited: 03rd May, 2013)
Starts off with sweet, delicious, slightly fizzy orange soda. A little bit lemony too. After about fifteen minutes, the orange has tapered off a bit, letting the violet emerge. At this point, the balance between the orange and the violet is pretty much perfect. Just to disclose, I only rarely like violet. Seemingly within minutes, the round contour of orange has almost completely disappeared and you're left with violet, maybe some wood notes, and some ambiguous sweetening agent. Only a shadow of orange remains. After the orange has been taken away from you, you're pretty much left with Eau de Cartier. Probably ok for Summer wear and just fine for Eau de Cartier fans but the orange/lemony accord vanishes too quickly and too completely for me to give it a thumbs up.
What a disappointment. It's pretty cold out today and the weather got me into the mood to seek out a new powerhouse fragrance for my collection. I was thinking, heavyweight, deep, strong, and assertive. Based on (some of) the reviews, I bundled up and set out on foot to a neighborhood store to spray on some MKK. Seemed like a can't-miss. After all, Kublai Khan invaded countries. What guy wouldn't want to smell like a marauding invader for a few hours? So, eager with anticipation, I'm thinking, this one's gonna be good. Powerhouse, dictatorial, opulent, King Farouk - after he topped 300 pounds - that kind of thing. In any event, setting aside whatever the name of it is, I was looking forward to getting a new winter fragrance that would have a sort of density and gravitas to it.
Well that's not how I experience this one. Instead, I get this grandmotherly, civet-laden, baby poop kind of vibe. Actually more feminine, in a nursing home kind of way, than masculine. In my view. Hey, some people actually like civet. I, apparently, don't. So I didn't make the purchase and I have to, for now, give up the idea of telling people that my cologne is named after a warrior king, which is fine, but I really wanted to like this one. It's got a great name but I really don't think it lives up to it. Maybe it should be called "Elderly Mrs. Khan"? In all fairness, I'll give it another try at some point, and give it a neutral for now.
Soft, dry, orange minimalism. A little woodier and earthier than the other Eau d'Orange Verte variants. Very light and fleeting.