Fragrance Reviews by Bo Darville

As an ardent admirer of GIT, it disappoints me that Erolfa is not the Creed offering most commonly thought of as "smelling like Cool Water." Of course, they all seem to occupy the same space in the fragrance continuum, but to me GIT seems pleasantly sticky but not even remotely sweet or sickly. It has real depth; it evolves and does so noticeably, which is something an admitted once-and-future noob like me looks for in a scent. It also presents itself as a "natural" fragrance; never do I inhale it and think, "Well, that seems a little off."

Erolfa and CW, on the other hand, both share a sweet, synthetic, tinny quality that irritates me. Honestly, I expected Erolfa (with its seafaring marketing imagery) to be more akin to CSP Aqua Motu or Heeley Sel Marin, both of which I like and appreciate. Aqua Motu and Sandflowers are aquatic in an almost briny "sea-foam" sense (truly "oceanic"), and GIT is aquatic (sort of) in a fresh yet overtly animalic way (owing to the sticky, almost steaming ambergris dollop). I just don't know what Erolfa and CW are aiming to accomplish - they both seem engineered for mediocrity. Whereas I could easily pick GIT out of a group, I would have trouble distinguishing between these two. Maybe it's just me.

I agree with PigeonMurderer that this would be a neutral were it cheaper (CW to me is neutral). This, however, smells so common (no, not "bad" - just common) at its price that I must rate it accordingly.

I've always wondered why it takes such a long time to fill a prescription. When you think about it, the process should take five, maybe ten minutes. However, drugstore chains are aware of the fact that - human nature being what it is - when one is confronted with a painfully long waiting period he will seek to alleviate the discomfort by engaging in that most Western of traditions: reckless impulse spending.

Grey Flannel is the apotheosis of an impulse consumer product. Considering the setting (here, a drugstore in rural South Carolina), its packaging is refined. The name itself reeks of sophistication and conjures memories - however faint - of childhood Christmases. And, it's one of the more luxuriously priced fragrance products currently sold at mainline druggists. Very classy stuff, indeed.

Such was my thought process one recent morning when, influenced by fuzzy memories and the glorious praise bestowed upon this product, I decided to gracefully pry open the grey flannel sack and spritz upon my unsullied skin one of the most obnoxious fragrances ever perpetrated on the people of Our World.

I can describe the intense initial blast thusly: cheap potpourri-inspired decorative bathroom soap left to dissolve and ferment in fruit juice. It smells like a shiftless, wild hobo drunk on Wild Irish Rose who sleeps nightly behind a DelMonte factory. His best friend is an incontinent bassett hound who likes to play in the sewer.

This is headache-inducing stuff. It is not pleasurable, and on my skin this stage was interminable. I've read about Grey Flannel's "payoff," the point at which it apparently eschews vulgarity and morphs into some kind of orgasmic mossy-woodsy nirvana. I'm sorry, but I felt that the price was too high to pay, and I washed it off (with moderate success - tenacious!), much to the delight of my companion that day.

Oh, no. People aren't meant to smell like this.

The opening was above average - an arid yet slightly tropical pepper and cucumber (the latter of which must represent some sort of sleight of hand judging by the listed notes) layered over cedar. Visions of walking the plank somewhere out in the Carribean with Blackbeard's cutlass gouged into your back spring to mind.

But, just when I was getting interested - POOF! - it was gone. We're talking within the first 90 minutes. I mean, they should call this juice Blackbeard's Ghost, it's so fleeting. I must note that I applied it rather generously from an open-ended sample vial; perhaps dowsing myself using an atomizer would have produced better results, but who's going to pay L'Artisan prices for that?

In summary, the opening (which is really all there is) is okay, but the longevity is absolutely criminal. Spend your well-earned bread elsewhere.

Edit 24 July 2009

I like this even less now that I've tried it during the summer months. Not only is the longevity subpar, but I find the lack of projection off the skin incredibly disappointing as well. I just don't understand the purpose of this fragrance. Utterly forgettable - another half-used vial for my brother.

There's really not much left to say that hasn't been said already. If this is the olfactory equivalent to driving a Porsche, count me out. It would make more sense as a marketing tie-in for an economical yet sporty Volkswagen.

Essenz von Farfignuten?

I admit to being a relative newbie as regards the critical assessment of fragrances...Having said that, this strikes me as VERY citrusy and only minimally green in the top notes and throughout. I'm not getting the apparent "green overdose" cited by others to such an extent that I wonder if some are confusing this with Bond's sharp, unapologetically green Gramercy Park.

Anyways, on my skin this dries down very gradually to reveal SWEET florals still laden with the opening citrus medley. Someone below referred to this frag as semi-gourmand, and I agree 1000%. The base seems closely related to that of other Bonds I've sampled; that is, it is musky but decidedly light and androgynous and very, very smooth. In fact, the whole presentation is nicely rounded - there's nothing that seems incongruous. Sillage could be better (although warmer temps will help), but longevity (as with all the Bonds) is well above average. I would say this is definitely a classic spring/summer go-to frag for men and women alike.

For about the first hour or more, this is very similar to Rochas Man (admittedly a strange comparison - maybe it's the lavender/bergamot combo?), the main differences being the absence of RM's prominent mocha note and the inclusion of some note or collection of notes that registers to me only as "waxiness" (others have described it as lipsticky - the iris I suppose). This strange waxiness disappears on my skin during dry-down, leaving behind a smooth veneer of florals set against musk, vanilla, and tonka bean. At this point, I could compare Ferre to Dunhill and even Armani Code, both of which have similar bases.

All told, this is a fairly average scent, and it should be OK for use in all but the heat of summer. Sillage and longevity are medium, and you will certainly not offend anyone - you may even get a few compliments. However, the fragrance is just a tad too familiar to me; I've smelled this type of scent too many times before, and it's played out. Having said that, I have to rate it as "neutral."

I recently used a restroom at Nordstrom that had quite obviously been deodorized with Gendarme...and that's the end of my anecdote. No further exposition is required.

Gendarme is successful only in that it manages to duplicate the fragrance of The Cheapest Hand Soap Known to Man. No, I'm not talking about Dial hand soap or even generic hand soap from such purveyors as Rite Aid, CVS, et al - I'm talking about hand soap you buy at places with the word "Dollar" in the title.

If you want a fragrance that is similarly soapy yet refined, I would recommend you try Domenico Caraceni's Ivy League.

I normally scoff when a reviewer (or multiple reviewers) claims that a certain fragrance smells "exactly like" something else (e.g., GIT and CW). Take my word for it, though - this is virtually indistinguishable from CSP's Aqua Motu. Even though I like Aqua Motu, I would never agree to pay a 400% markup to experience the same scent rebottled by a more "prestigious" house. What's more, I am under the impression that Aqua Motu preceded Sandflowers, thus making Sandflowers not only laughably expensive but also (*gasp*) unoriginal.

Thumbs down.

I'll admit that I wasn't especially overwhelmed by this juice when I tried it last winter. Although I certainly found this boozy, syrupy, (very) slightly citrus concoction compelling and likeable, it seemed to lack the OOMPH! factor that would compel me to purchase a bottle.

My opinion of Idole changed when I wore it on the first day of summer (here in South Carolina - about 95 deg. F / 70% humidity). I had originally balked at the notion of wearing this brew under such conditions (for reasons I can’t quite pinpoint), but I have to say that it resulted in an almost perfect fragrance experience.

Although I wasn’t exactly doing manual labor while wearing it, Idole seemed to meld very well with and be accentuated by what perspiration did occur when I was outdoors. The fragrance never “turned” like many that are actually marketed as summer frags. The heat made what originally struck me as a too subtle fragrance into one that had presence without being obnoxious (obviously, don’t go dousing yourself with it, though). I’m sure this is a little tricky considering Idole's inherent warmth.

Seriously, if you’re not going to wear a fragrance touting rum absolute, sugar cane, and doum palm as key components during the summertime, when are you going to wear it?

Artisan is a far less challenging version of L'Eau D'Issey, which I loathe with an intensity usually reserved for Satan, rush-hour traffic, fat-free [insert foodstuff here], and Democrats. Please accept my apology if you like or happen to be any of these people or things.

I'm not going to describe the aroma - that is very ably done in the reviews preceding mine. What I will say is that this would make a fabulous air freshener. Wearing it is like walking through the dew-like mist which lingers for 5 seconds or so after room fumigation with any citrus/floral Glade product.

Unfortunately, this simply isn't my cup o' tea. However, I do think that for a person who likes this type of scent, it would be fully optimized in the dog days of summer. So, give it a shot if only for that reason - just don't expect to be bowled over.

Everyone else pretty much nails the description of this scent (even the "syrupy," "fruit salad," "weird buttered popcorn" note, which turned out to be my favorite aspect!), so I won't bother. What I will say is that, although this certainly smells nice, I'm just not blown away by it; it doesn't come close to emotionally engaging me. I suppose my main misgiving is that it's simply too subtle and wispy. Of course, wearing this in 90% humidity on a summer day will help. Even so, I won't be getting too worked up over a frag that is so narrow in its applicability.

For someone seeking an alternative that is thematically similar but (to me) far more satisfying and pronounced, I would recommend Bond No. 9's Coney Island. Yes, yes..."The Copycat House."

FWIW, while I tend not to care about masculine/feminine scent labels, I am admittedly sensitive to unabashed femininity in frags. No problems here - Bahiana is definitely 1000% unisex.

I spotted this one on sale at TJ Maxx and thought it smelled a little like Burberry Weekend for Men, so I purchased it. It's not that bad. The supposed lime top note isn't especially prominent or even convincing; it just smells generically citrus. It is at the same time, however, very pleasantly creamy (the so-called tequila sorbet note) - it's really quite confectionary in a frozen dessert pop sort of way. Just don't associate the word "tequila" with booziness; this frag is not boozy.

Alas, the heart notes are full of overtly feminine florals that pretty much kill my personal enjoyment of the fragrance. I simply would not be able to wear this publicly without heightened self consciousness. I fear that heat would accentuate this perfume-y quality.

On the plus side, I gave it to my mother, and she loves it. I think that many women would...

This is a fantastic and complex ambergris-centric fragrance. Of course, I'm biased. If a perfumer does even a remotely competent job with the note, I'm hooked. Such is the case and more with Legno di Nave ("Ship Wood"). I have to admit, though, that the powerful, spicy, clove-dominated scent (actually kinda "Kouros"-y) from the sample vial was enough to make me test a slew of others before I finally succumbed to curiosity, and I'm glad I did.

As I said, the top notes were (to my nose, at least) dominated by clove, although I could make out the ambergris (which is substantial throughout the development) and a slight vetiver. On my skin, the clove slightly recedes in less than an hour or so; at this point, the fragrance is immensely more enjoyable. The spices here are not overdone, not too clove-y. The cinammon becomes a little more recognizable, and a deep, dark resinous wood scent (almost sap-like - more on that later) emerges. And, of course, ever-present and interconnecting is the ambergris, which is very well-represented here. This is the scent's best stage.

As if this is not enough, the aforementioned resinous note develops in a such a way that it dominates and screams loudly at hour 5 or so (yes, that late in the game). It was at about this time that I began to question my own opinion of this great beast! Gladly, after a little while, the resinous note tired of its screaming, and what I was left with for the next 4 hours (and counting!) was a softer (though still pronounced) spicy ambergris scent with an almost balsamic twang.

I consider this to be very closely related to CSP's Eau Grise, a scent that I treasure above almost all others, even though I do not own it and sadly cannot find it due to its having been discontinued. Although I like Eau Grise a little better - mainly because it omits the spice and tree sap notes that can make this a little overbearing, but only at times - I could definitely see myself using this instead.

I strongly recommend this fragrance.

I remembered being impressed with this upon its release, long before I started actually devoting mental effort to whether I like "this" frag or "that" frag and how much...Upon revisiting it, I'd have to say that I still like it, and I wouldn't think less of someone who really, really loved it.

Once the top notes burn off (this doesn't take too long), what you're left with is a subtle blend of spices, wood, and musk. I do admit that I felt compelled to frequently smell myself - it just smells good, people! Actually - and this may appeal to no one but me - it reminds me of the smell of a pencil. No, not just the smell of the wood or the loved/hated pencil shavings accord, but the WHOLE pencil (especially the eraser and wooden elements). Someone with more fragrance knowledge or a more nuanced nose than I would have to explain why this is so.

Are there better, more expensive frags out there? You bet, but you're unlikely to offend anyone when wearing this, and it can be had at a more than reasonable price. Longevity is moderate, and sillage is low-to-moderate, but considering its run-of-the-mill department store brethren this is quite an attractive offering from a second (or is it third now?) tier designer.

I would rather smell this fragrance on a woman and not on myself. For me, it is more than a little too feminine from top to bottom. I even had TPC send me another sample just to make sure I had the correct fragrance - I did. I'm normally not ultra-sensitive about such things, but as I wore this out in public I couldn't help but think, "EVERYONE THINKS I'M WEARING PERFUME!!" Insecure much?

On the positive side, it really doesn't smell "bad," but it does undoubtedly smell cheap and synthetic. I don't know, maybe my nose isn't evolved enough to enjoy or appreciate this. I can't even pick out most of the notes; all I can perceive is a general impression of soft suede/leather mixed with a gargantuan dose of pleasant, albeit headache-inducing chemicals. FWIW, it is verrrrrry long-lasting.

As I implied, I believe this could be very s-exy on the right female, though there is a drugstore or designer scent that smells very much like this - laugh all you want, is it White Shoulders...? I have frequently caught a whiff of it on average women shopping in Wal-Mart, malls, etc. I'm certain that literally none of them would ever pay a premium for S-ex (pun intended).

I could imagine Beverly d'Angelo wearing something like this.

To be sure, this is very decent juice. But, I'm surprised that no one has made the obvious connection to either Faberge's Brut or YSL's Rive Gauche. All three are similarly constructed based on the listed notes. After an hour or so, few could even tell the difference between EF and RG (Brut - I'm not so sure...). I also respond a little more to RG - it's more lively and pronounced, whereas EF just sits there playing nice. Take my word for it, though - they're EXTREMELY similar.

If given the choice, I would definitely opt for Rive Gauche.

After the initial mélange of various ozonic/electrical scents, all that I can smell is nail polish, and it lasts forever. Do you want to smell like a TV screen smeared with nail polish...for a looong time? I don't. Frankly, this seems like the fragrance equivalent of living near high-tension power lines. Does that mean that Odeur 53 is carcinogenic? Well, maybe...?

Alright, I'm being facetious (I guess), but I really cannot fathom why anyone would want to subject themselves to this. Similarly, I cannot imagine that anyone would want to smell someone who emits this "odeur."

Oh, but it's an "anti-perfume." It's "art." Sheesh. What's next? A frag that smells like a Ziploc bag filled with the world's tiniest sea shells (not real ones, but space-age synthetic ones!) placed on the surface of the Moon? Fragrance notes like "Exploding Star," "Spent Fuel Rod," or "Frozen Glue"?

I am inclined to agree that this is avante garde, but that would be too complimentary. I would rather just say that it's pretentious and eerily misanthropic - and leave it at that.

The citrus-laden opening is admittedly somewhat enjoyable, but this one quickly goes south on my skin after the top notes flash off, leaving behind a scent that I can only describe as Rotting Plastic Flowers on the Planet Mars. Really, this is vile.

Popular with the ladies? If wearing this scent caused the Dallas Cowboys cheerleaders to magically appear in U.S. Marine Corps Hueys and rappel through my windows...well, I would probably wear it in that case, BUT I WOULD HAVE MIXED EMOTIONS!!

This is a tart yet refeshing grapefruit and lemon with some light woods, vetiver, and Bond No. 9-ish unisex musk lying underneath. But, the real star is the citrus; everything else is almost incidental. It is natural-smelling, simple, and linear - a perfect summer frag. No frills here, people. It's almost as though it's saying, "Don't overanalyze me. Just frolic."

If the good folks at Ocean Spray ever decide to create a fragrance, they should buy this recipe and market it using television ads scored to Bobby McFerrin's "Don't Worry, Be Happy."

Is there anyone better than Annick Menardo at crafting dense mass-market orientals that are perfect for winter wear (e.g., Bulgari Black, Lolita Lempicka, Hypnotic Poison)? I don't think so. Frankly, I'm surprised that such a singular, almost ambivalent frag is so well-received (80% positive votes as I write this).

mrclmind referred to this as "strong and smelly out of the bottle." Boy, is it! I won't bother describing how this develops - all you have to do is look at the above pyramid. Honestly, I do not have an incredibly microanalytical and precise nose, but even I could pinpoint each of the above notes. This is an accessible series of scents that is complex and, well, not-so-complex. I suppose that means it's "well-made."

The only caveat that I can offer (and this is of zero personal importance to me) is that late in the long life of this fragrance on the skin one could quite easily associate the camphor wood base with the odor of moth balls (which can also be camphoraceous). Yeah, I know, that's a pretty big caveat. But, I will say that this is probably my most-complimented fragrance to date. So, repel insects while getting "lucky" = Win-Win!

This is as close to a Holy Grail fragrance as I've been able to find. I understand that there exists a palpable level of Creed revisionism within the community, but that matters not to me. This is rich, almost (or fully...) gourmand opulence. Like George Costanza draping himself in velvet, I would bathe in this juice "were it socially acceptable."

The bananavanilla-y (trademark pending) opening of fruits and spices seems to last forever on my skin, finally drying down to reveal the conventional Creed ambergris-tinged base. All the while, you are enveloped but not suffocated. This is a fragrance with presence that endures without becoming a nuisance.

Others have compared this to urinal cakes or bathroom fresheners. While I suppose I can see their point, my guess would be that the overwhelming majority of people would not make that association. It is certainly no Orange Spice in that regard. I have received my share of compliments while wearing this.

For those seeking a more budget-conscious (but by no means "cheap") and accessible approach to this fragrance theme, I would recommend Parfums de Nicolaï New York. It is similarly a fruity oriental with a powdery amber feel, only it ignores the whole metallic banana aesthetic that some find off-putting.

You really can't judge this as a "fragrance." To be fair, this should be evaluated only on the merits of its efficacy as an aftershave. For what it is, it is fantastic. The healing and toning properties far exceed what should be expected from a drugstore product that only costs $4.00 or so. I use it frequently.

Concerning the scent itself, it does what it is supposed to do. It has an invigorating menthol-like olfactory kick (in addition to its pronounced menthol skin effects) - it wakes you up. I really can't discern any individual notes. It is imperceptible after about thirty minutes (as it should be), and it generally doesn't clash with EDT's.

FWIW, this smells almost exactly like the very highly regarded Italian Floid "Blue" aftershave, which sells at about a 750% markup compared to the Velva.

Believe me, I can understand why some people would consider this fragrance vulgar and repulsive. I offer no apologies. This is dark, unrelentingly synthetic, loud juice. I have on more than one occasion been asked by close friends to wash it off or leave the room.

It opens with a 118-octane patchouli petrol blast accented by lavender and mint. Of course, everything else in the pyramid - chocolate, coffee, etc. - seems to be fighting for survival. Pretty soon, you're tarring the roof of an Arizona headshop with melted dark Godiva while chugging Starbucks.

You know what, though? I love it. It's crude and crass and completely unruly for at least an hour. Some people won't have the stomach for the protracted opening salvo - after all, there are some fragrances that I will not tolerate for the time period required to transcend noxiousness - but it settles down nicely and lasts for days. It all relates to personal taste, as everyone else has said.

Everyone uses Rochas Man as a reference point, but they're totally different animals. If you liked RM but felt that it was way too sweet and milky, this may be the ticket. Just use sparingly, and only apply during the winter.