Fragrance Reviews by scentemental

I love the Des Filles à la Vanille line of fragrances. They are all very well made, delicate, joyous, breezy, romantic, soft, understated, and uplifting fragrances that come from the gentle, cherry-blossom world of someone's wonderful imagination. As far as I am concerned, *Rivière de Janvier* is the paragon of the line.

*Rivière de Janvier* is a softer, ever so slightly sweeter and drier version of Diptyque’s *Philosykos*, with *Philosykos’s* clarion, verdant fig note diffused by a very reticent vanilla in the background and a barely perceptible rose note in the heart notes. All beautifully balanced. I think of it as *Philosykos* for romantic evening wear. It’s an amazing fragrance in its own right and, in my opinion, is up there with Diptyque’s *Philosykos* and L’Artisan's *Premier Figuier* as one of the benchmark fig scents without equal.

scentemental

The following pyramids are from Cacharel’s press release for the fragrance and from www.osmoz.com respectively:

Note de tête: Thé aromatique, Bergamote
Note de coeur: Cardamom, Rose centifolia
Note de fond: Bois de palissandre

Top notes: Agrumes, Thé
Middle notes: Epices, Note Rose, Note Fougère
Base notes: Vétiver, Palissandre, Benjoin, Fève Tonka

In my experience of the fragrance, I think the first pyramid is the more accurate one as I detect no fougère notes in the heart notes, and as I suggest below, the vetiver, benzoin, and tonka listed in Osmoz.com’s basenotes are to my nose at least minimally relevant to basenote accord which is predominantly, I think, a woody note describe by the marketing people at Cacharel as “Bois de palissandre” or in English as Palisander or Purple wood. My explanation/review follows.

*Amor Pour Homme* opens with a pleasant enough top note in which one can detect the faint tea note listed as “aromatique tea” in the pyramid. It’s not a predominant tea note and like the other top note mentioned, bergamot, it disappears very quickly, within a minute actually. Don’t expect any lingering tea note in this one. The initial impression when you first spray this is one of familiarity. It’s modern, inoffensive, and, as the first pyramid of notes suggests, somewhat one-dimensional and minimalist. There is little evolution as it dries down. I can’t say that I can detect the cardamom mentioned as a middle note, but then I never been able to detect cardamom in any recent fragrances that list it as a note. If you’ve ever cooked Indian food and used cardamom or made Indian or middle Eastern desserts using cardamom, you will be familiar with what is a very exotic almost other worldly spice, that is highly aromatic with a sweet, somewhat lemony pungency; in the essential oil itself, one can also detect soft pleasant woody balsamic quality not present when it’s used as a spice. Sorry, I’d like to say that the cardamom adds to the aromatic complexity of this new release, but it doesn’t. I don’t detect any cardamom, at least not as I know it.

The same can be said of Rose centafolia. I have always keep pure Rose centafolia essential oil on hand. It’s one of life true joys. I put a drop on a test strip and did a number of side by side comparison throughout the drydown of *Amor Pour Homme*, and I can say with assurance that *Amor Pour Homme* doesn’t contain any pure Rose centafolia. I had huge hopes that it would, but it doesn’t. I was hoping this would be the release that would figure and blend true rose oil prominently in the heart notes like many great men’s fragrances have in the past, but alas.

This is not to say that there isn’t some attempt at an approximation of a floral note in the middle, but to call the note Rose centafolia is more marketing hype than it is authentic description. Of course, even though I am disappointed–even a drop or two of real Rose centafolia oil would have made a huge difference to the aromatic complexity of this fragrance–I am not surprised. Modern perfumers identify around 17 different rose scents and most of them are created synthetically these days and in many cases to great effect. Also at their disposal, modern perfumers have myriad aroma chemicals that can be described as floral notes with rose like qualities. A few prestigious houses still use the true essential rose oil, but even they now cut it with their synthetic high quality rose aromachemical equivalents.

Having said all this, the schematic listing of the middle notes is in fact somewhat accurate if we think of those notes more impressionistically than literally. When the top notes do fade, what’s left is a tight accord that is composed of very reticent and non-descript spice component blended with a diffuse floral component both of which ride on top of a wood note accord of which I’ll shall say more about in a moment. It remains to be said with regard to the heart notes that the barely spicy and the diffuse generic floral notes in the heart notes are a conscious choice and differ radically in conception from Cacharel’s original men’s fragrance, *Cacharel Pour L’Homme*, which boldly blended spices, most prominently clove and nutmeg, with salinet florals such as Ylang Ylang, Lily of the Valley, and Geranium. It’s clear that times have change and that in many cases, as in this one, fragrance companies are looking for a wider, younger audience and so it shouldn’t surprise us that most new releases are decidedly middle of the road and this one in no exception. In its contemporaneity *Amor Pour Homme*, and Cacharel itself, assumes that those who will buy this fragrance will probably have never tried *Cacharel Pour L’Homme* nor will really want to. There’s no sense of tradition here, it’s about things as they stand now in the production and the mass marketing of fragrances. I present this less a value judgment and more as a fait accompli.

Now on to the basenote accord as it dries down. From the first spray, one can clearly detect a synthetic wood note in the fragrance that persists and predominates right through till the end. I am using synthetic here as a neutral descriptive term rather than as a negative, value ladened one. The wood note will feel like a familiar one to many of us familiar with the standard fair of the past 20 years. If there is, according to Osmoz.com, vetiver, benzoin, and tonka in the drydown, they certainly don’t stand out in any distinct or differentiated way in the basenote accord, and I don’t think that’s because of successful blending. To my nose, I think that the Bois de Palissandre note listed in the press release pyramid for the launch of *Amor Pour Homme* is a more accurate description and conception of the basenote accord.

Bois de Palissandre, or Palisander or Purple wood as it is also known, is, as far as I have been able to determine, a reference to the genus of trees known as Dalbergia, within the family Fabaceae, and subfamily Faboideae. Such trees can be found distributed all over the world and particularly in Central and South American and southern Asia, especially in India. According to which experts you talk to, there are anywhere from three hundred to six hundred different species. Palisanders are used exclusively for the quality of their wood rather than their oil. Many of the South American varieties and particularly Brazilian varieties are known for their high oil content, which makes them ideally suited for areas in which building materials come into regular contact with water because the oil provides a very effective water proofing dimension to the wood. Varieties of Palisander are also used for the production of knife handles because of their waterproofing quality and also for the production of various parts of guitars because of the beautiful patterning of the wood. Many such varieties are often referred to as rosewoods; however, these are not the trees from which true Rosewood oil is produced. That tree belongs to the Lauraceae family and the species Aniba rosaeodora, and is the only species from which true rosewood oil is produced.

As far as I have been able to ascertain, many Palisanders because of their rich oil content must have some kind of woody scent. It’s hard to find descriptions of how these various woods smell, but the consensus seems to be that they smell slightly pungent and mildly fragrant. From what I’ve been able to ascertain, however, it seems that they’ve never been used for the production of fragrant oils. I think, and this is an educated guess, that the Palisander note in *Amor Pour Homme* is an idea and an approximation of what Palisander might smell like rather than any essential oil distilled from Palisander varieties. Furthermore, Palisander varieties are endangered and protected species in Central and South America, and, given what we know about the nature of fragrance production today, it is highly unlikely that there is any Palisander oil–what ever that might be–in *Amor Pour Homme*. The Bois de Palissandre basenote is a conceptual fragrance made real by aroma chemistry, perhaps also rounded out with vetiver, benzoin, and tonka, though I am sure the majority of the accord is carried by the synthetic Palisander note.

Again, like the spice and floral heart notes, this Palisander wood note is a diffuse note that corresponds to the description of how the various Palisander woods smell, namely, slightly pungent and mildly fragrant. I suspect, however, that the slightly pungent nature of the Palisander wood note in *Amor Pour Homme* has more to with the undesirable residual component of its aroma chemical scent profile than it does with a successful matching to its nature specific equivalent. At times that pungent note strikes me as not so much pungent as it does acrid, like the remnant debris of a fire in which organic matter has be burnt. This same acrid note is even present in Escentric Molecules’ *Escentric 01*, whose main constituent Iso E Super, a very widely used woody aroma chemical and one which forms the woody base of *Givenchy Pour Homme*, if I am not mistaken. Even in as well an executed fragrance as *Givenchy Pour Homme*, one can’t escape, at least I can’t, that acrid burnt note, which eventually mellows out as the drydown proceeds, but is still always there as a background presence as it is, indeed, in *Amor Pour Homme*. Unfortunately, I sense this acrid burnt woody note in many contemporary fragrances, which confirms further my belief that what we have in the basenote accord of *Amor Pour Homme* is less an original use of Palisander wood essential oil (if indeed such a thing exists or every existed) than a specific modulation of woody aroma chemicals to produce a woody affect. If one smells many contemporary fragrances up close, this burnt acrid note becomes more apparent. It’s less apparent in the sillage these fragrances produce, a sillage which in the final analysis is where these fragrances truly come together and where their strong suit usually lies. It’s better not to smell such fragrances up close but rather let their sillage do the work.

Having said all this, let me say that in terms of what *Amor Pour Homme* sets out to do–assuming that one buys my characterization–it does it very successfully with its assured modulation of unobtrusive notes that will have a general appeal, possibly an even wider than usual appeal. Did I want something along the lines of the originality and brilliance of *Cacharel Pour L’Homme*, or even the beguiling syntheticness of *Nemo*? Yes I did. Do I think that the world will come to an end and that this is the end of Cacharel and the fragrance industry as a whole? No I don’t. There’s very little of the soothsayer in me for that. I prefer to say that it’s not for me, but it might be for a lot of other people.

*Hammam Bouquet* is Penhaligon’s first and oldest fragrance introduced in 1872 at the high point of British imperial expansion. An imposing scent from a still imposing bygone era and like the Victorian imperial culture which engendered it, it is rich and full of the refinement of imperial experience. The visual image I get of this fragrance is one of paisley prints. *Hammam Bouquet* is also a model example of the skillful, artful, and creative blending of key natural ingredients. It opens with an amazingly heady and exquisite top note, a heavenly combination of Otto of Roses and Orris. For a man’s fragrance, it is very clever in its use and interplay of what are now key and classic floral elements of women’s perfumes. The iris and rose top notes persists, albeit in a muted fashion, well into the heart notes where they are married with jasmine and cedar. Despite its use of iris, rose, and jasmine, the accord remains resolutely “masculine” as the floral notes are modified by the cedar and anchored by a solid, mostly Musk basenote accord, with touches of amber and sandalwood, both of which, along with the cedar, keep pulling the floral notes back into a more “masculine” woody animalic realm. Of course, it comes from a time when masculine/feminine distinctions with regard to florals meant very little as we can deduce from the very nature of this fragrance. Well into the drydown the accord becomes clearly powdery with a predominance of musk, and with a surprising recrudescence and slight persistence of Jasmine and Rose. A word of warning, the musk drydown seems based on an older style of musk, which can be, in some instances, quite temperamental by developing a troubling, sharp, civet-like animalic urine edge, the “urine” note noted by a previous reviewer. I suspect such a response will vary according to skin type and to ambient conditions. With this in mind, wearing the fragrance in heat and humidity is probably not a good idea. Despite this caveat, *Hammam Bouquet* remains a very refined, strikingly assured, and brilliantly crafted fragrance with an engaging, dynamic drydown that is a joy to behold. It is impressive to experience a fragrance which knows where it’s going, actually goes somewhere, and has an adventure getting there. I think this one is an authentic gem, but I suspect that, like most gems, it will be kept in its box most of the time and will only occasionally be brought out and given a chance to sparkle.

Blenheim Bouquet opens with a sharp, tart citric blast which is carried into the heart notes by the aromatic pungency of thyme and pine, both of which are incongruously married with a slight but decided camphoraceous note. This dauting assault on one's nose gives *Blenheim Bouquet* an air of unapologetic immediacy, arrogance, and unquestioning self-assertion without any self-effacing self-consciousness; it’s very aristocratic in this sense and very imposing, just like stark Baroque presence of its name sake Blenheim Palace, rising starkly out of an expanse of flat green earth, a permanent monument to the Blenheim name and will.

http://www.blenheimpalace.com

The marvel of this whole seemingly incongruous opening mess is that as the drydown evolves, the accord starts to transform as the thyme’s sharpness resonates with the sweet pungency of the pine and buoancy of the citrus and resolves itself into a clean, fresh, resolute scent of self-conscious distinction. It’s not so much that sharp, pungent arrogance and officious air of the opening disappears entirely; rather it is held in tension, carried as an attitude of haughtiness that might at any moment reassert itself to overwhelm one. It’s an astonishing use of difficult spices, citrus, and green notes to produce a seemingly incongruous but finally pleasant, edgy accord that is a testimony to masterful blending and assured breeding, much like the aristocracy, what?.

As a final note, don't expect women to like this one. It's too resolutely masculine.

In *Opôné*, the saffron note is tightly blended with rose, spices, and wood notes, and what an exquisite, dry combination the achieved accord is. Dry yet luscious at the same time thanks to the rose (Rosa damascena, in this case), astringent yet perfectly balanced between the sweetness lusciousness of the rose and the astringent, woodsy spicy elements of the saffron echoed in the spice and wood notes themselves. It’s simple, and it’s very Mediterranean in its simplicity, but as with all such simplicity, one marvels at how such a combination works to produce such enchantment. This Mediterranean ethos is a decided and calculated ethos with Diptyque; its original founders were very much influenced and galvanized by their travels in Greece and the Mediterranean region in general.

Furthermore, *Opôné*, like all Diptyque fragrances, starts off strong and finishes strong, and, like most Diptyque fragrances, it doesn’t evolve much, which is fine by me because it smells so beautiful right out of the bottle. Diptyque fragrances have such presence and such an amazing tenacity. They’re pure, honest, and there’s a clarion quality to the tonality of their ingredients. *Opôné*, like all Diptyque fragrances, is intense from the first moment you spray it on to the last moment right before it fades, and Diptyque fragrances work like certain batteries which provide optimum performance and then all of a sudden just die out. I’ve never sampled scents with such redoubtable presence. I think the fact the company first made candles before it made scents might have a lot to do with the fact that their fragrances are a lot like their candles: they have amazing, redolent output right till they burn out.

For a similar experience of Saffron, Rose, and woods (in this case oudh), minus the spices, one should try Czech & Speake’s very accomplished *Dark Rose*, if one can find it. If you love rose as a key element in an accord, you'll more than likely love *Opôné*, which is, in my opinion, along with Dipytque’s own *L’Ombre dans L’Eau*, one of a handful of the truly great rose-based fragrances ever created.

Vanilla, benzoin, and sandalwood are balanced adroitly with the resinous, balsamic qualities and tantalizingly pungent medicinal edge of opoponax (sweet myrrh) to produce a very interesting tension that resolves itself into a full-bodied, luxurious accord. It is simultaneously a sensuous, bracing, and edgy scent. When the fragrance dries down, vanilla predominates with echoes of sweet myrrh reverberating enough to give it an ever so slight but sharp and engaging edge. Excellent longevity. A most original creation.

An exceedingly soft but assured natural musk, very refined with no sharpness or acridity despite its slight, tantalizing animalic edge. Musky and soft, full-bodied without being cloying or brazenly powdery, the drydown just gets better and better as ethereal floral elements blend with the musk and completely temper its animalic edge without turning it into a pure powder drydown. The final, lingering basenote accord reminds me very much of the musk component of the drydown of D’Orsay’s *Arome 3* and is, in some ways, also reminiscent of some of the best musk drydowns of classic women’s perfumes of the past that used animal-derived musk. This is a beautifully constructed scent and is very, very elegant with excellent longevity.

A delectable, soft, honey-sweet dry grass greenness that faintly echoes a muted fig note with a persistent but diffuse fermented sweet, red wine note. Very original. Its only fault is poor longevity.

They are two product under L'Occitane's L'Oranger rubric, L'Oranger *Orange Leaves Eau de Cologne* and L'Oranger *Neroli EDP*. They are two entirely different fragrances. The review that follows is a review of L'Oranger *Neroli EDP*.

L’Occitane *Neroli EDP* is the least L’Occitane of the L’Occitane range, which typically contains pleasant, competently-made, quality fragrances based on a larger than usually percentage of natural ingredients. They’re mostly well-crafted fragrances, but they’re definitely not what you’d call edgy. L’Occitane’s *Neroli EDP*, however, is edgy; it’s very edgy. It begins with a very sensuous, decidedly floral, and feminine neroli note. What is the difference, you might well ask, between a feminine and masculine neroli note? I see the difference as follows: a masculine neroli note is one you find in the “barbershop” renditions of neroli such as Penhaligon’s *Castile*, or Czech & Speake’s *Neroli*. In these two fragrances, the neroli note has the freshness and lightness of orange flower water and a syrupy thick viscous “nosefeel”. It’s always a buoyant, happy, and clarion note, uplifting and refreshing. A feminine neroli note is decidedly more dense, without being syrupy and has an exotic, even otherworldly feel to it. It’s has a thinner and more complex, even prickly, nose-feel than its masculine counterpart; it has a more ether-like, elevated floral component, which is dense and heady and which approximates the heavy, floral, ether-like, headache producing quality of some higher grades of ylang ylang essential oil.

The neroli in L’Occitane’s L'Oranger *Neroli EDP* is edgy in the sense that it pushes one’s olfactory responses to the edge with an oriental-like sharp, bitter, but vibrant exoticness which is accentuated by a very thin, exceedingly dry, non-resinous cedarwood kind of note with which it is interlaced and which persists well into the drydown, as does the neroli note, which still remains discernible in the drydown when its edgy, ether-like qualities abate and are subsumed into a coumarin prominent, quieter, powdery, tonka bean and dry cedar finish. It’s really beautiful and intoxicating in an impressively weighty, sensual way, and it has incredible sillage and longevity. In this sense, it begins to approximate the qualities of parfum. A word of warning at this point: go very easy with this one. More than 2 or 3 sprays and the fragrance will become unbearable on the wearer. As I said earlier, it’s very un-L’Occitane like, and it’s quite spectacular. When you’ve reached this level of art, questions about whether it’s actually a women’s fragrance or a man’s fragrance fail to apply. It’s both, and like all true works of art, it’s universal.

*Philosykos* starts of with a vegetal leafy greenness that is persistently but unobtrusively astringent and that captures better the complexity and totality of the fig tree's various scent possibilities--fruit, wood, and leaves--than any of the other fig fragrance on the market. While many fig-based fragrances can often seem leaden, the figginess of *Philosykos* is, from start to finish, handled with such aplomb, with such a lightness of touch that one marvels at how it simultaneously manages to remain fully present yet understated. The only other master perfumer who does this consistently with ingredients is Jean-Claude Ellena--I am thinking especially of the vetiver note in his Vétiver Tonka--and, yes, Olivia Giacobetti was already, IMO, when she created *Philosykos* at the age of twenty three a master perfumer. It’s remarkable to consider that just two years earlier, at the age of twenty one, she had created another marvel, the first truly fig-based fragrance, L’Artisan Parfumeur’s *Premier Figuier*, her first major fragrance if I’m not mistaken.

As the initial top notes of *Philosykos* dry out, the middle notes reveal a fig accord that is rounded off with a hint of creaminess that some have a called a “coconut” note. While there’s certainly no coconut oil present in *Philosykos*--it smell nothing like those highly aromatic sun tanning lotions loaded with “coconut” fragrance--“coconut” is a good descriptor of this particular type of creaminess which functions in *Philosykos* to keep the leafy astringency in check. Early into the middle note phase of the drydown, there also appears what some have called a “peach note”, though I tend to experience it more as a nectarine note, which, like the coconut note, functions to keep the leafy astringency in check but also keeps the fig note buoyant and stops it from becoming leaden and oily as tends to happen in many less deftly handled fig-based fragrances.

Well into the drydown, the astringent vegetal figginess begins to abate and is replaced by a basenote accord that’s light and sunny, musky and figgy at the same time, but it’s a muskiness that's not really derived from any animal musk; it's more of a non-animalic white musk, but even that’s not a sufficient description; it’s not really a white musk. One might even go so far as to say that it’s more of a fully mellowed out figgy lavender note, without any of lavender’s sharpness present; that is, it smells only like the memory of a beautiful fully mellowed-out lavender note with traces of fig. I am thinking, here, especially of the way D’Orsay’s *Arome 3* lavender note mellows out to become something more than just the aromatic sharpness of the initial lavender. *Philosykos’ drydown is a lot of things, but more than anything else it’s joyous, transparent, and transcendent.

Finally, don’t look for the white cedar (Thuja occidentalis) listed in Diptyque’s official description of this scent to make an appearance in the basenotes. White cedar is nothing like the Texas Cedar or Atlas Cedar notes that are used frequently in men’s fragrances as standard basenotes. White cedar, or cedar leaf oil as it is commonly known, can be pungent and balsamic, bitter, sharp and fresh, and even camphoraceous. It is a principle ingredient in Vicks Vap-O-Rub©. The white cedar is more than likely used to give complexity and amplitude to fig note effects in *Philosykos*, which achieves such effects so artlessly. Such an achievement is even more laudable when one remembers that there is no such thing as fig essential oil or even fig leaf oil. Fig leaves are abrasive and sticky and have a sappy, milky liquid in them that is an irritant, and they don't smell figgy at all. In fact, figs themselves don’t smell figgy. The tend to have a bland, barely detectable vegetal smell to them. It’s only in the preserving of figs in jams that the aroma we identify as a fig is brought out and intensified, and so it’s important to note that the complex fig note one smells in *Philosykos* is a marvel of aromachemical invention and Olivia Giacobetti’s art, and *Philosykos* is the paragon of such invention and art.

While science and art are definitely behind the genesis of this paragon, the experience of *Philosykos* is the experience of Nature, of airy, fleeting summer fruit and vegetal greenness softened, mellowed, transfigured, purified, and made white by late afternoon Mediterranean wind and sun. It is the fig tree, its fruit, and its leaves magically transformed into breath.

What follows is an attempt to sort out some of the confusion that seems to exist over the various incarnations of Annick Goutal’s *Eau d’Hadrien* along with a review of *Eau d’Hadrien* and *Hadrien Absolu*:

The men's EDT version is named *Eau d’Hadrien*
The men's EDP version is named *Hadrien Absolu*
The women's EDT version is named *Eau d’Hadrien*
The women's EDP version is named *Eau d’Hadrien EDP*

Both men’s versions come in square bottles, the women’s in somewhat oval shaped, fluted bottles.

The men’s EDT juice is identical to the women’s EDT juice, and the men’s EDP juice (*Hadrien Absolu*) is identical to the women’s EDP, except that it is colored a little more yellowish than its female counterpart, *Eau d'Hadrien EDP*, but as far as the scent goes, the men’s and women’s EDT and EDP versions are identical. *Eau d’Hadrien* in it’s EDT and EDP formulations, despite it’s demarcation into different shaped bottles for men and women and different names, has always been considered a unisex fragrance. The fragrance takes it name after the Roman Emperor Hadrian, Hadrien in French, who reigned from 117 to 138.

*Eau d’Hadrien* certainly is a fleeting fragrance, as attested to by many of the reviewers below. *Hadrien Absolu*, on the contrary, lasts a very long time for a citrus based scent; although, it should be noted, it always stays close to the skin. *Hadrien Absolu* can still be detected up to six to eight hours after the initial few sprays, as opposed to the EDT, which lasts (on this reviewer, at least) an hour and a half to two hours, maximum, but, even then, what an hour and a half to two hours. A word of warning, though: *Hadrien Absolu* is not merely a stronger version of *Eau d’Hadrien*; rather, it’s a reformulation of *Eau d’Hadrien* as I explain below.

The first thing one notices about *Eau d’Hadrien* is its pared down structure when compared to most other fragrances: citrus (lemon, grapefruit, and citron), ylang ylang, and cypress, but what an amazing and amazingly simple combination. It’s such a sparsely constructed fragrance with a truly Mediterranean elegance to it. It’s the same kind of elegance in simplicity you find for instance in a meal of fresh, pan-fried fish seasoned with salt, cracked pepper, and lemon juice in the myriad little sea-side taverns one finds spotted all over the Mediterranean world. Anyone who’s had the good fortune to have such a meal, can’t help but be impressed with the minimalist approach to flavoring, which paradoxically produces such intense and clearly demarcated flavors that still manage to work, magically, as a whole. It’s the Mediterranean ethos––doing much with little. I tend to think of *Eau d’Hadrien* in this way and of all of Annick Goutal’s creations in this way for that matter. They are truly Mediterranean in their uncompromising use of essential, top quality ingredients and in their simplicity of construction. They do much with very little.

Now to the differences between the EDT and EDP versions: The cypress in the EDT formulation is more pronounced than it is in the EDP/Absolu version and this is what gives the EDT its characteristic woodsy spiciness. It’s a fresh, slightly herbaceous woodsy spiciness that works beautifully with the minimalist pairing of citrus and ylang ylang.

In the Absolu/EDP version, the ylang ylang is more prominent, and the pure citrus oils are a lot more concentrated, and while the ylang ylang is intensified, the cypress is muted (substantially, actually, if one thinks about it). In the *Hadrien Absolu* formulation, the more prominent ylang ylang note works harmoniously with the citrus and the cypress to produce a very beguiling bitterness. I am always amazed how the clean, sour edges of the citrus and the bitter, heady rotundity of the ylang ylang compliment each and keep the acerbic elements of the overall accord in check in the *Absolu* formulation. Like the EDT version, it’s a masterpiece of the careful, assured blending of elemental ingredients. In this saccharin world of mass-produced, ubiquitous, and artificial fruit flavors, it’s a truly refreshing scent as is the EDT. Unlike many other recent so-called citrus scents, both *Eau d’Hadrien* and *Hadrien Absolu* manage to remain unmuddled by any sweet notes. Sometimes, I turn to them when my palette has become cluttered and jaded with too many scents. There is a bracing, clarifying astringency to them that also adds to their appeal.

On reflection, I would classify *Eau d’Hadrien* as a citrus woodsy fragrance with a slight floral edge and *Hadrien Absolu* as a citrus floral with a slight woodsy edge.

A few words of warning though: overspraying *Hadrien Absolu* will bring out the oxygen-consuming headiness of the ylang ylang, which will then overwhelm you. I have found that wearing both the EDT and EDP versions together, with a minimum of two good decent sprays of the *Hadrien Absolu* and about 8 to 10 sprays of the *Eau d'Hadrien* works really well and allows one to enjoy the best of both worlds. If you decide to wear *Hadrien Absolu* alone, go lightly on the number of sprays, two to three at the most.

Finally, with the exception of the opening notes of *Signoricci 2*, there is probably no more ethereal and divine citrus experience than *Eau d’Hadrien*, but as with all things ethereal and divine, we should not expect to be able to hold on to them too firmly. Enjoy the moment of *Eau d’Hadrien* even if it is brief. In it’s beauty, it is, after all, like all beautiful transient things of this world, an intimation of mortality, perhaps even of immortality.

*Dior Homme*, a well-mannered, immaculately groomed, impeccably dressed svelte Frenchman in a modish, sharp, well-fitted, light grey wool suit and the lightest of pink shirts, open neck, of course. A Frenchman you could spend the whole day with and never be at cross-purposes over anything. You would marvel at the the civility, the élan, the assuredness, the intellectuality, and you would say to yourself, ah Christian!, what a friend to have, indeed.

*Kouros*, is named after, and the bottle is model on, a specific kind of statue that began to appear in ancient Greece and was the original form on which all subsequent forms of classical Greek sculpture took as a point of departure. The kouroi appeared out of nowhere, a development in the plastic arts that could have never been anticipated from what came before. *Kouros* is exactly like its sculptured namesake, a monument of originality, coming out of nowhere, and, like the Kouros itself, it strides determindedly forward, muscular, unapologetic, unyielding, a force to be reckoned with. If ever there was a more aptly, thoughtfully named fragrance, I’d like to know.

A fine, fresh, and true neroli fragrance in which the neroli note is not cloying nor sickly-sweet dominant as it can be in many neroli-based scents. It has the freshness and lightness of orange flower water, which is one of its middle-note ingredients. The other middle note, rose, makes its appearance very quickly into the drydown but remains muted and is integrated well with the predominant neroli accord, which, interestingly enough, once the top notes have dissipated, begins to smell sweet like orange blossom honey. The base notes of Woods and Musk remain very muted as the top and middle notes work themselves out well into the drydown. The heavy bloom in May, white-blossom brides among the fragrant groves warmed by a honeyed light.

*Element of Surprise* begins with a persistent honey-like white tea note not unsimilar to *Bvlgari Eau Parfumée au Thé Blanc*; although, *Element of Surprise* tends to be a little soapier and more tenacious than the *Bvlgari Eau Parfumée au Thé Blanc*. The tea note is interlaced with a very Mediterranean (pure, clean, and natural) Lemon/Lime note. The background of Jasmine gives amplitude to white tea note and contrast to the citrus notes. An uplifting fragrance. Simple, elegant, and very casual at the same time.

*Mare* has the purest, most authentic marine note of any of the more popular marine-note fragrances currently on the market, all of which seem tricked up in comparison. *Mare* is pure sea salt in some ways. Also, it has a very simple and minimalist note structure: sea salt note, avocado note, and ginger lily note. It’s really a masterpiece of simplicity and elegance. The ginger lily gives it a beautiful, very quiet, final white flower basenote that begins to develop well into the drydown when the avocado note abates the sea salt note by adding to it a creaminess that rounds out the accord beautifully in concert with the final ginger lily note as the sharp, brackish sea salt note begins to recede like the tide going out. A word of warning: the initial sea salt top note is a little jarring at first, but I think that’s part of the fragrance’s appeal. Salt smells strange, otherworldly almost, and since this fragrance has one of the truest marine notes of all, one would expect that note to have a strange, brackish quality to it. Finally, what I also really like about *Mare* is the experience of how it develops over time. It’s one of those fragrances that makes you aware that not all great fragrances have to smell exquisite right out of the bottle. Some things are certainly worth waiting for and waiting for (and experiencing) *Mare’s* drydown is one of them.

Fantastic stuff. *Bellagio Uomo* starts off with a classic Italian citrus opening that reminds me in part of the exquisite opening of *Signoricci 2*. Very quickly it settles into a citrusy muted marine note with a salty metallic edge. At this point it reminds me of a very successful cross between *Acqua di Giò Pour Homme* and *Eau de Rochas* (for women). If it lasted more than half an hour, it would be an extraordinary fragrance, but it doesn’t and just vanishes into thin air. What a pity. Certainly worth the half hour though.

With a 20% concentration of perfume oils, *Gendarme 20* is clearly an EDP. To my nose, however, Gendarme 20* is still simply *Gendarme* with a greater percentage of perfume oils overlaid with a beautiful, no, actually, an exquisite lavender note, which, unfortunately like all true and exquisite lavender notes, doesn't last very long; it's really a top note. This is the floral note people have been taking about; although, since lavender is a herb and not a flower, it’s really a herbal note. The lavender is an interesting twist, and, like all the ingredients in the Gendarme range, it is a very pure and expensive version of lavender. Surprisingly, even at 20% perfume oils, *Gendarme 20 EDP* doesn’t really produce more sillage, but, like other Gendarmes, don’t let that fool you.

*Gendarme V*, with its high concentration of natural perfume oils (15% in this case), is typical of Gendarme fragrances in general. It’s clean and casual and wears close to the skin, and, like the original *Gendarme*, it has a pretty tight accord, but it’s certainly also a more complex scent. It manages to use ylang ylang in a way that I haven't seen used in either women's or men's fragrances. Ylang ylang tends to have a sickly sweet, fecund, heady note that is perilously close to smelling like the flower itself has begun to decay, a note that is very hard to tame. Not this ylang ylang. It's as if the most ethereal and pleasing fragrance characteristic of the ylang ylang was gently removed and blended optimally into the *Gendarme V* accord. An unsuccessful use of ylang ylang, in my opinion, can be seen in Damien Bash's *Lucifer No.3*, where from the outset the ylang ylang crowds out the other elements and continues to do so right throughout the drydown. The use of ylang ylang in *Lucifer No.3* is somewhat crudely handled, and no special care is taken to mitigate that heady, fecund, cloying note found in the flower. This is the ultimate success of *Gendarme V*. It is an entirely harmonious accord with, at its center, one of the most potentially inharmonious and inhospitable of flowers.

I spoke to Topper Schroeder one time, the guy behind the Gendarme line–a very charming and affable, laid-back guy, by the way–who told me, when I put it to him that he had done wonders with ylang ylang, that it was in large part due to its being blended successfully with “a very expensive vetiver”. Can't say I can really smell the vetiver, but again that’s precisely *Gendarme V's* success–it’s blending.

*Gendarme V* doesn't change much from initial application to final drydown. The accord is tight, harmonious, and balanced, and, of course, one of a kind. You’ll be smelling yourself all the time when you apply this, and even though it wears close to the skin, you’ll be aware of it, as will others. It’s a feel good, uplifting, casual scent that’s dreamy, California dreamy, in fact. One final point about *Gendarme V* is that it sometimes manifest a stronger citrus note than the other two Gendarmes which is definitely carried by what is a synthetic civet note. It can sometime surprise the wearer in this way. When it does so, it develops a slightly sharp, citric, animalic note on top of the ylang ylang/vetiver accord. Not unpleasant but it can be surprising because it's not always present. Definitely, the most interesting and complex of all the Gendarmes in my book.

*Gendarme* is the cleanest and freshest of the four Gendarmes (*Gendarme*, *Gendarme V*, *Gendarme 20 EDP*, and *Gendarme Green EDP*). With a 12% concentration of perfume oils, which technically qualifies it as an EDP, it’s the original, magical Gendarme accord. It’s an entirely uncluttered fragrance and has even been called an “anti-fragrance”. Adjectives often used to describe it are "clean", “light,” and “fresh”. In many ways it’s an ineffable, understated, and unobtrusive accord, hence vague and abstract adjectives like “clean,” “light,” and “fresh” come naturally to mind. Here’s a description of it from the official Gendarme website itself: “Green with citrus and verbena top notes. Herbal with a dry-down of jasmine and thyme, bound to a hint of leather. A full 12% oil blend for a compelling long last that won't overpower the room.” Don’t look for any one of the elements mentioned to dominate or even to stand out. I have never been able to single out any of the notes. It’s a unique, tight, ineffable but very pleasing accord; these qualities are the basis of its appeal and its mystery.

Finally, *Gendarme* is one of those fragrance for which “olfactory habituation” happens very quickly. Many wearers claim they can't smell the fragrance a few minutes after application. Also, none of the fragrances in the Gendarme line produces significant sillage, mainly in part because the ingredients are mostly natural and don’t have the sustained scent producing output of aromachemicals. However, if your body heat is activated, the highly concentrated natural oils in the fragrance and on your skin are also activated and in turn the scent is released. You might not be able to smell the fragrance because of olfactory habituation, but others certainly will when they are up close. Actually, the same can be said for all of the Gendarmes. These particular quirks of *Gendarme*, and all of the Gendarme fragrances in general, help to explain why wearers of Gendarme fragrances frequently claim that they can't smell the fragrance a few minutes after application but are regularly told by others hours later that they smell “nice and clean”.

What follows is a comparative review of *Habit Rouge* EDC, EDT, EDP, and Light (a.k.a. Légère) versions.

The EDC is the original formulation which tends to emphasize the citrus spice accord throughout the entire drydown. It's definitely the most sophisticated and the most complex of the four. The animalic/vanillic accord is present throughout but never brazenly so like it is in the EDT. The EDT, on the other hand, primarily emphasizes the animalic/vanillic accord from the outset. It’s bold and makes no apologies for being so. If the EDC is the more formal and demure of the two, the EDT is the equivalent of EDC but with the tie loosened, the shirt open, and on the prowl. With the EDT, there is a brief citrus opening and then the citrus element all but disappears after a minute. There is also a far less complex and persistent interplay of the spices with the citrus and animalic/vanillic elements than you get in the EDC. The EDT is, however, the most potent and straight up form of the characteristic *Habit Rouge* animalic/vanillic accord and, if your nose thinks so, a beautiful and beguiling one at that.

The EDP, interestingly enough, opens with a stronger, but smoother, primarily neroli dominated top and middle notes and paradoxically with a decidedly more muted animalic/vanillic accord. With the EDP version, the signature *Habit Rouge EDT* animalic/vanillic accord is not as prominent throughout the drydown and all but disappears well into the drydown when the agarwood makes a show and blends with it to the point where the animalic/vanillic accord’s presence becomes almost liminal. Certainly one finds oneself catching whispers of it in the drydown, but it’s the agarwood note which dominates the final drydown in a very cozy and yielding way and acts as a excellent basenote substitute for the vanilla predominant drydown of the EDT. If you’re looking for a stronger version of the EDT—and why anyone would want one is beyond me—you won’t find it here. The EDP is its own animal but with less animal in it and not more. It is, however, EDP strength and lasts anywhere from 16 to 24 hrs, at least on this wearer. If you find the agarwood note in Yves Saint Laurent’s *M7* overbearing, you’ll love it in the *Habit Rouge EDP*; it’s smoother, less medicinal, less smoky, and more integrated into the overall accord.

The newest incarnation of *Habit Rouge*, *Habit Rouge Light* (a.k.a. Légère), has a very subdued animalic/vanillic accord throughout with a prominent but very fresh top and middle note accord underpinned by a very sophisticated neroli note. In this sense the Light version is more of a reworking of the EDP than it is of the EDT or EDC for that matter since there is little to no spice in it. The neroli note in both the EDP and Light versions is never sharp, prickly, or unsettling as it is in say Rochas *Lui*. This neroli note in *Lui* is the one which makes people say it smells like *Habit Rouge*. While there certainly is a similarity, I find the neroli note in Rochas *Lui* taxing; to my nose it’s prickly and officious. Not so in the Light version. The benchmark for a more sophisticated aroma-chemical neroli note is, of course, Thierry Mugler's *Cologne*, and now, it seems, *Habit Rouge EDP* and *Habit Rouge Light*. As noted before, throughout the drydown of the Light version, the animalic/vanillic accord is a reticent presence, barely perceptible except for those who look for it. It's there, but on a much more liminal level than the EDP or the EDC, whereas, it’s the main feature in the EDT drydown. On the whole, the Light version is a very successful modulation of the EDP. This is quite a remarkable achievement when one thinks of it. It’s very easy to overlook the individuality of each one of these incarnations if one compares them hastily to what one is used to. If anyone of these were created without the others existing, many of us would be excited about them. It's hard to see things afresh, but all of the various *Habit Rouges* are truly innovative and a tribute to the original, seminal EDC, which, when all is said and done, remains my favorite–not that the others are very far behind.

*Boucheron Pour Homme*, especially the EDP version, is, without doubt, one of the finest and most elegant of formal colognes on the market. It’s skillfully and attractively constructed and blended, with a beautiful and true verbena note on top and a bold measure of florals in the middle (Carnation Ylang-Ylang, Rose, Lily of the Valley,) along with a classic, solid combination of Vetiver, Sandalwood, Patchouli, and Oakmoss in the base which gives it depth and duration. The florals in the middle augment its distinctiveness and presence and add to *Boucheron Pour Homme’s* refinement. If you have any reservations about these florals, don’t; they’re very skillful blending and the carefully balanced proportions ensure that the fragrance remains resolutely masculine. It’s the perfect fragrance choice for a suit, and you’ll find that the EDP version, especially, has excellent longevity and steady output.

The trick with this one is not to over spray. If you do, you overload on the patchouli and oakmoss, which tend to drown out the top and middle notes and can make the whole experience of wearing the fragrance unbearable. Another word of caution, and this pretty much applies to most fragrances that contain patchouli or oakmoss. Such fragrances never take kindly to being sprayed on anything else except clean skin. Spray *Boucheron Pour Homme* on yourself even a couple of hours after a shower, and you’ll get and entirely different and sometimes quite ugly fragrance. Patchouli and Oakmoss are the bad boys of fragrance ingredients. They always misbehave and are usually on their best behavior when you practice strict discipline. To conclude: with *Boucheron Pour Homme*, less is always best; with the EDP version, even less it better.

The lavender note that dominates Guerlain’s classic men’s fragrance *Mouchoir de Monsieur* for a short period--about 10 to 15 minutes into the drydown--is basis for the lavender note accord of *Aqua Allegoria Lavande Velours* created by master Guerlain perfumer Jean-Paul Guerlain himself. It’s as if he took the lavender note of *Mouchoir de Monsieur* and built another fragrance around it. I think it is one of the best instances of what aromachemistry can do in the hands of a great master. It’s a simple accord of lavender and sandalwood with a whisper of violet. For a lavender-based fragrance it has extraordinary longevity. It’s not an easy achievement to get lavender to last and to last with intensity, but Jean-Paul Guerlain has done just that here with both natural ingredients and high-quality aroma chemicals that not only approximate their natural counterparts but also manage to extend them over time and space in a way Nature can’t.

*Messe de Minuit* is a strange one. I have a very strong visceral reaction to it. I find it disgusting and very odd, but, all together, utterly compelling and familiar. In many ways, it’s like a Gothic monument, beautiful in its pointed ugliness, and it’s like those gargoyles one finds adorning such monuments, hideous, imposing creatures from another world, dangerous, lurking, and all the while one is strangely drawn to their otherness, to the shadow, to the other self. Good and evil, light and dark, body and soul, sin and redemption, these are the dualities *Messe de Minuit* understands and embodies. It’s a Catholic universe, and I swear it smells exactly like the old, musty, dank little Catholic churches one finds everywhere in Europe. Churches whose scent is the accretion of incense, age, and the blood, sweat, and tears of their parishioners as they struggled with their passions and their yearning for metaphysical certainty. It’s hard to maintain faith in this one; I am still trying.

Flayed strips of sodden mossy bark, dark purple twig-rich earth, and the last breath of flowers held in the huge hands of slowly moldering, motley-colored, waxy autumnal leaves, and in that forest, everywhere, one senses the reverberation of a cool, detached, and moist metallic patchouli echo returning through the trees. The color of the bottle, a deep rich, vibrant brownish red. The fragrance, a nonpareil.