I tested Bandit by Robert Piguet, and boy did I fall in love. Deeply, madly, and truly in love. This is what I have been waiting for.
If Amouage Gold, the other great love of my life, is a little black dress with diamonds dripping from my earlobes, then Bandit is a leather miniskirt, my black lace corset, and a riding crop. It opens with a beguiling accord of jasmine, orris, and spicy carnation, and just a hint of the sharpness of bergamot. As soon as it truly settles on your skin, within a minute, a deep and richly dark leather reveals itself smugly, as if scornful of its more eager companions. The leather grows richer but does not overpower. The jasmine and the orris and the rose and the civet fall in step, visible and vibrant, but it is clear who is master here.
The staying power of this fragrance is magnificent. When I dove under the soft covers of my bed five hours after application, Bandit was still going strong. It was perhaps a bit softer now, calmer, but by no means subdued. And so I slumbered, and dreamt of mischievous things.
The next morning when I woke up Bandit's leathery drydown greeted me like a lover. I curled up with it, snuggling down into my pillow, and delayed my morning routine just a little bit longer before rising reluctantly, bidding it farewell.
This lovely fragrance of remarkable darkness and power can most definitely be worn by a man, but is most perfectly suited for, as the official description reads, not every woman but a certain woman. A woman who intimidates a fair number of men, but doesn't mind since they were sorely lacking in any case. A woman whose charms when turned full force can't be resisted, especially since most men can't imagine why one would try. Bandit weaves a web of intrigue around me, and man is the fly that dreams of the spider.