Perfume Reviews

Reviews by impdaddee

Total Reviews: 6

A Taste of Heaven by By Kilian

Chilly, green lavender at the beginning, transmuting into warmer lavender throughout, and a cozy amber warming it all. So, so lovely, yet so, so not me.
28th July, 2012

Oud For Highness 75 by Krigler

The samples from Krigler arrived, oh the joy! Like Christmas in July.

Yes, it's everything I expected and more, and the other reviewers are bang on.

But, to me, it smells like Dove soap.

It opened with a little wave of beautiful oud, charming and sweetly woody-resinous. Once that pleasant, "Hello! I'm your well-mannered host on this trip, Mr. Oud," was over, the real refinement emerged. Everything was so perfectly balanced it was hard to distinguish the supporting sandalwood from the sweet honeyed saffron from the ambered oud. Perfect, beautiful synergy that was nearly linear after the initial introduction had been made.

But, to me, it smells like Dove soap.

The projection was impeccable. Everyone entering my personal space thought it lovely, and just enough projected into my social space to intrigue. The room was not filled with its vapour, and no noses were assaulted during this test run. Wonderful!

But, to me, it smells like Dove soap.

Longevity was about six hours, with a slow fade to skin level, where it maintained its balance perfectly. Great stuff.

But, to me, it smells like Dove soap. Really, really nice Dove soap. Dove soap for a king. Dove soap made with love. But still Dove soap.


I give it a thumbs up for itself being itself, but I shall never own it

Another try. OMG, this is the most lovely Dove soap I've ever worn! Except it isn't Dove soap at all, and doesn't remind me of soap,'s so warm and refined, soothing and calming, just like showering with Dove soap. Subtly sweetened wood and hints of a flower that isn't, tempered by the elegant bittersweet aroma of saffron, it's altogether admirably balanced. It won't satisfy those craving a semi-mystical oud experience, but has a poised dignity that soothes.
18th July, 2012 (last edited: 11th August, 2012)

Spice and Wood by Creed

Lemons and apples? That's what they say, and I can just sniff them out, like a couple of wedges of pie on another diner's table while drinking a cup of weak Earl Grey.

The spice and wood kicks in fast, rounded by the a subtle dirty sweetness of patchouli, and lasts long.

The dry-down is mostly dry-ish cedar plumped up with a hint of sexy musk. Nice enough, but ruined for about an hour with the emergence of the iris, a note that vaguely repulses me.

I was initially enthusiastic, until I noticed that the pepper note just kept on stabbing and slicing and hacking at my nose. Ouch. Ouch!! OUCH!!! Enough already, enough. (The Mayans used burning chilies as a kind of gas weapon.)

Overall, pleasant enough save for the chili dagger, but I laugh at the price. Good for some, not for me.
May 10, 2013

Okay. Another wearing. Smells better this time, although the chili dagger still challenges me. My colleagues at work went berserk--"What are you wearing? It's incredible!".
14th July, 2012 (last edited: 11th May, 2013)
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Aventus by Creed

Juicy pineapple, sure. Smokiness, yup. A hint of dreamy flowers, and musky charm. Smells super.

Great! Here's my $300. I'll take a bottle.

Then I get home and a half-hour passes, and it just vanishes into vague meh-powder-something-maybe smell.


I try it again, same result. And again, same thing. #@&!%!!!

An expensive lesson: try, try, and try again before shelling out a day's wages.

I gave it away to a friend, who absolutely loved it. On him, gorgeous, great projection, long-lasting, masculine, not overpowering, in others words, everything we want a fragrance to be.

Try, try, and try again.
Try, try, and try again.
Try, try, and try again.

Lesson learned. Still out $300, though.
13th July, 2012

Oud Wood by Tom Ford

Strange, that after avoiding virtually all skin-scents for over twenty years (save for the tiniest dabs of baker's vanilla extract), I should choose Tom Ford Private Blend Oud Wood to reacquaint myself with the fragrance world, especially on a hot, humid summer's day! I wanted something sensual, complex, warm, masculine, maybe even dark and mystical, but with a "huggable", sweet heart. Various reviews led me to Oud Wood. I was not disappointed, I was overwhelmed.

My first experience at a fragrance counter in two decades was slightly intimidating, but Madame Sales Assistant took me seriously after I tossed out a few key words and offered me a spritz of the Oud Wood. SPRITZ!!! up the inside of my forearm, and another SPRITZ!!! down the same. "Whoa lady!" I thought, retaining the extreme caution (revulsion?) regarding over-application I had developed during the almost nightmarish days of Ralph Lauren's original Polo...then it hit.

The first half-minute reminded me of the resinous edge Polo had, but was more familiar to me from my own kitchen. Mapo tofu requires powdered Szechuan pepper, a source of numbing-heat. The initial blast was nearly identical to the piney-resin scent released from the spice grinder after grinding a batch of hua-jiao. It was like a trumpet blast waking my nose from slumber, blaring, “YOU JUST PUT PERFUME ON!! YOU REALIZE THAT, DON'T YOU?!”. The penetrating sharpness seemed to clear the olfactory stage, providing not only an expectant space for what came next, but also a contrast for the following woodsy, spicy sweetnesses.

Hot on the heels of the Szechuan pepper, saffron blazed sharp, strong, and quick, with—as in many Indian desserts—a yummy cardamon backdrop. The slightly medicinal saffron soon departed, leaving me craving more, yet thankful that it was over.

The oud which followed did not overpower—it was almost well-behaved, “almost” because it was shameless, brazenly seducing me with its light faecal-animal sweetness. Now, there are ouds, ouds, and more ouds, some yummy like fruit and flowers and licorice, some medicinal, others woody, mystical, or even rutty. This was rutty oud, not too dark (likely artificial), and soon evened out, receding to let the sweeter woods—sandalwood and rosewood, and vanilla to continue the seduction.

I simply could not stop sniffing at my forearm, shamelessly and brazenly.

The dry-out was relatively uneventful, with a gradual fading of spiced woods to sweet amber over the next few hours. The amber lingered on well into the next day, but was detectable only close to my skin.

A couple of tries over the next few days amounted to much the same, although lower temperatures and decreased humidity increased its longevity. Thankfully, I didn't fill entire rooms with Oud Wood gas, but those entering my personal space certainly noticed it with pleasure.

On me it is like “sex in a bottle” (as some others have also commented), but there is nothing tame about the erotic jinn that is released from this little brown bottle. Wearing it is like an initiation into a rutty world of ancient sexual practices by a smiling Lebanese bodybuilder, who appears dressed up in a black tuxedo, shirt undone to the sternum (ooo, look, a hairy chest!), three days dark scruff on his rivetingly handsome face, and thick gold chains swinging to the rhythm of his too-confident strut. But, despite all his attempts at worldly sophistication, he still needs to pay the bills by plying the world's oldest profession. Gosh, who am I to curl my lip and say no? The effortless masculinity of his presence overwhelms all objections, and I reach down and, trembling with desire, hand over a wad of cash. Am I his for the night, or is he mine?

For me, a one trick pony, but that's just fine.

Of course, mileage varies. On my husband it's all sweetness and purity, like a drawer of freshly laundered underwear. (Good. I wouldn't let him out of the house if it smelled on him like it does on me.)
12th July, 2012 (last edited: 14th July, 2012)

Acqua di Parma Colonia by Acqua di Parma

Straight out of the sample and into the air it seemed very nice...a hint of citrus, a hint of floral. Okay...let's light spritz to each on the neck. Nothing crazy.

Hmmmm...not what I expected...oh dear...

After an hour, I stink of detergent powder, have an irritated throat, a tiny bit of a headache, and want nothing more than to take a shower to scrub this stuff off. A classic scent that my body just doesn't work with at all, although my work colleagues quite like it.

After exiting my office and returning a few minutes later, I can smell it on the air, so there's a fair amount of projection and sillage. I like the smell of it on the air, absolutely, but on me? No, everytime I catch a whiff on my body heat, I feel like clearing my throat.

I could wear it solely for the pleasure of others, and irritate and annoy myself, but kindness first begins "at home". Too bad.
05th July, 2012 (last edited: 15th July, 2012)