Fragrance Reviews by purplebird7

I love the package with its fuschia, swirly, op-art pattern, and I am attracted to its promise of a bold fragrance for free-thinking women, but Elle is not my type of scent. I love woods, but my preference is for wet woods--those with earthy, mossy, ambery supporting notes. Elle is dry and peppery wood laid over a sweet, fruity base with sour underpinnings. To me, the dominant notes are pepper, lychee, and cedar. It is hot, arid, and sweet-tart. This new genre cannot replace the old-school Chypres or the rich, floral, woody Orientals in my wardrobe. If you like this type of bold, lively scent, don't let me dissuade you. But for me, it is out of synch.

What a nice surprise it is to find an old-school green Chypre re-issued. I must assume that the formula was changed to compensate for oakmoss (and/or other) restrictions. Still, it emerges relatively unscathed. Notes are as follows:
Top: aldehydes, galbanum, peach bergamot
Middle: gardenia, jasmine, jonquil, carnation, rose, lily, orris
Base: amber, patchouli, oakmoss, myrrh, vetiver, castoreum
On the whole, I like Miss Dior better, and so I wish it the same luck with its reformulation. Givenchy III is soapier and less sweet. It opens with an unmistakable blast of galbanum plus a big slug of aldehydes. Then it moves quickly into a pleasnat spicy floral accord with peach floating overall. As it wears, it displays the delightful, drastic development of this genre, moving gradually away from sharp, green top notes toward its smooth amber base. The addition of vetiver makes the base tangy and clear, rather than sweet and full of labdanum. If Miss Dior was too heavy, earthy, and sweet for you, give the cleaner, more sparkling green Chypre of Givenchy III a try.

Eau Fraiche--the name implies citrus and herbs, right? Right. And that is exactly what I smelled upon first application. I am picky about lemon scents and prefer orange, so at this point I was unimpressed. I thought that was all it had to offer. But no, I was wrong! What came next was a surprising leather phase that was not rude and animalic but smooth and suedey, like the leather in Jolie Madame. However, no vanilla creaminess followed, as it does in Jicky. The Dior fragrance remained clear. On the whole, this fragrance was short-lived. It is remarkable because it stands out from the rest of the "fresh" genre due to that clever base. Anyone looking for a lemon scent shouldn't overlook this one. Very nice.

A classy, well-balanced amber with woody notes of lavender and myrtle. This perfume is so well-behaved on me that it blends beautifully into a warm, sweet, skin scent. It is avoids becoming overly sweet, yet it never veers too far into masculine territory with leather or herbal notes. It is wonderful for a straight amber scent—as close to being "plain" while still being complex, skillfully crafted and smooth, but quiet.

Unusual amber fragrance consisting of a mix of booze, leather, and amber in equal parts, with nuances of dusty frankincense and cinnamon. It impresses me as masculine because I have known many men who have smelled like this, ever since I was a child—men wearing sweet cologne and leather coats, men with the smell of hard liquor on their breaths. I can almost hear the clink of ice cubes in the glasses of bourbon on the rocks as I hug them. Mercifully, these men do not smoke. Maybe they carry cigars in their pockets, but they do not light them. The addition of a strong smoke note would render this fragrance trite and trashy. Instead, it is clean, warm, and boozy. Ambre Russe smells like sweet rum and animalic amber. It is cuddly but tough.

This joins the growing list of what I consider to be "atmospheric" fragrances designed to evoke a place or setting. I like to smell them, but I don't want to smell like them. Apparently there is a demand for environmental aromas in hotels and stores to strengthen memory and feelings of loyalty among customers. People are starting to enjoy man-made fragrances which create a hyper-reality, like smoky bonfires or old libraries. L'Air du Desert Morocain is a clever composition that uses a host of ingredients to deftly imitate lemony frankincense ground to a dusty powder and laid upon polished black leather. It is dry, citrusy, and bittersweet. I could experience a similar aroma by donning a leather jacket and putting my nose into a bag of olibanum. Both are equally enjoyable, but they fall short of constituting an entire perfume. As a point of reference, Messe de Minuit is deeper, more complex, and accomplishes a greater range of contrasts, although it also can be difficult to wear. For use on the skin, I still prefer softer, sweeter, more traditional, skin-compatible scents.

Instant time transport back to a different era--Habanita is an extremely nostalgic, perfumey-perfume consisting of a sweet powder and a strong tobacco accord. It is the scent of a couple, she wearing the powder and he holding the cigar, their bodies entwined on the dance floor of a nightclub in full swing. It's forceful stuff, too; not designed for the meek. My only complaint concerns the sour and bitter edge that it must wield order to avoid sliding into "ordinary" territory, making it less than enjoyable for everyday use. Perhaps I would wear it occasionally when I felt like dressing up naughty and making a statement, but Bandit already occupies that function for me. I can't say that I really like this, even though it is a marvellous work of art well worth preserving. A good experience, and I'm glad that many people find it more practical than I do.

I've got to give Estee Lauder credit for introducing a perfume that does not smell like anything typically from its line. Not that I don't like EL; I do. Some of its fragrances are among my favorites--such as my all-time woody, honeyed rose, Knowing, plus the long-lived spicy Youth Dew and green, floral, ambered Private Collection. Sensuous is a radical departure from these, as well as from the bright, soapy notes of White Linen or the clean florals of Pleasures. Sensuous is decidedly modern and spare. With fanciful notes like "molten woods" I am unable to analyze the aroma within the parameters of the traditional pyramid. Instead, I will say that it is a juxtaposition of woody, unsweet black pepper on top of a sweet, rich, fruity caramel. Together, they create an enjoyable accord but, personally, I am tired of black pepper in perfume. It seems to pop up everywhere, tempering overly sweet notes. I'll give this a neutral until further notice.

Salty, fruity, dusty, honeyed amber. There is a light, fruity note which is mildly peachy. The florals are quite spicy. And underneath it all is a woody, incensey note that gives it a dry powdey feeling. The overall effect is sweet and salty, quite Eastern. (I have some Madini Sahara that smells similar, whose listed notes are bergamot, amber, and myrrh. The Dior fragrance is more feminine and subtle.) Dune is unusual, unique, and fun.

How could I not love this fragrance? First of all, I'm a patchouli lover. (I probably will lose all credibility on my reviews for succumbing to the charms of this note every time I encounter it.)Secondly, it has just enough sweetness to take the edge off of that dark, earthy note and soften it. It's still strongly woody with a hint of peach, but more interesting and likeable than plain patchouli. Maybe I need to make a ranking system: Baseline hard, woody - Etro Patchouli. Midrange - L'Artisan Patchouli Patch. Sweet but earthy - Montale Patchouli Leaves. Sweet and fruity - Jalaine Patchouli. Sweet and a miracle of mellow creaminess - Chanel Coromandel. Jump right in and choose one; I love them all.

The mere mention of castoreum and hay in a fragrance usually portends a wild ride. Imagine my surprise after applying Osmanthus and experiencing a light, fizzy peach accord that remained true throughout its development. Very pleasant; nothing uncivilized about it. Delicious and refreshing peach fragrance, neither strongly fruity nor strongly rosey. A nice skin fragrance.

Anne Pliska looks a bit jarring at first sight; the vivid purple liquid caused me to expect strong roses, but this was not the case. In fact, this smooth, sweet, orangey-creamy scent is tempered with a mix of dusty hebs (of the oregano type) or some other "salty" note and reminds me of a more feminine Serge Lutens Ambre Sultan--yet it predates that fragrance by six years! Surprise, surprise. Anne Pliska did the sweet, dusty, salty amber first. It even has a little of that addictive Play-Doh note. No wonder this little niche beauty has maintained its cult following for decades. It is an excellent amber fragrance.

The first time I tried this, I completely missed the patchouli note--and I'm a great lover of patchouli. I had made this same mistake with Estee Lauder Knowing, a longtime personal favorite, but for a different reason. With Knowing, the patchouli was covered in honeyed roses. But with George Sand, I just didn't apply enough perfume. I revisited this fragrance and put lots on, and found a dark, harsh heart of pathouli, and there is no excuse for a hard heart in my opinion. It's still an interesting perfume, but I must downgrade my first impression.

This was my original review: Gezhundheit! A blast of black pepper which magically disappears, is replaced by a cup of Masala tea with cardamom and clove, and a gingerbread cookie shaped like a Dutch windmill, spicy but only mildly sweet. As the skin warms, a most beautiful sandalwood emerges, long-lasting but close to the skin. Delicious. Expect minimal sillage. Snuggle up and enjoy.
My new advice is to avoid perfumes with black pepper notes. They seem to "bloom" over time and overtake the other notes in the fragrance. So, unless you really like pepper, or you buy your perfume fresh and use it fast, you can't trust that note to behave.

I had to edit this review becaue I am having bad experiences with the black pepper note in perfume. It seems to me that this particular ingredient "blooms" over time, and often overtakes other notes. When I first bought my Parfum Sacre, the lemon, mace, and vanilla were dominant. It was spicy-sweet, lemony, and delicious with vanilla. Several years later, hot, woody black pepper permeates this perfume into its heart, preventing me from enjoying it until the drydown, when it finally becomes sweeter. I had a similar experience with Bulgari Omnia: my first bottle was from Sephora and was beautiful, but my second bottle was an old one from a small store, and it was unwearable. I will avoid this note in the future, as it has ruined two of my favorite perfumes. I still want to give this one a positive rating based on how it used to smell, but I can't anymore.

I'm picky about anything with a dominant lemon note, so this endorsement is a highly favorable vote. Hierbas de Ibeza is as glorious as a sunny day, as clean as morning. This citrus accord is made fresh by thyme, lavendar, sage, and verbena. It is gently sweetened by jasmine, orange blossom, and a smooth vanilla base. I'm writing these notes down from the website, but I only actually smell a single, perfectly blended lemon accord. Carry this one around as the one bottle you need to pack for your summer vacation.

I'm disappointed. This fragrance is too bitter for me, and then it recedes into nothing. And it's not because I'm afraid of galbanum. I actually own a vial of galbanum essentil oil, and it is unbelievably strong. I love galbanum. But this perfume provides one bong-hit of galbanum and, sorry, the ride's over. It moves on to a blast of bitter, salty herbs with some weak citrus in the background. The strength is gone, a washed-out green herbal accord remains. Honestly, I get more pleasure out of smelling straight galbanum.

I puzzled over this one. It doesn't seem to focus on me. It starts with an old-fashioned light, floral accord, like a bouquet, then it adds a sharp, almost salty tang like Caron Alpona, and then it mellows out into a skin scent that is interesting but neither earthy nor animalic, like others have reported. It is underwhelming. I do better with a more distinctly defined fragrance.

A very nice lemon-herbal fragrance. Nothing too exciting in my book, as I prefer to go either creamier with Guerlain Jicky or sour-juicier with Annick Goutal Eau d'Hadrien.

Riot of sweet flowers made lifelike by an interesting, persistent lime-linden accord, and maybe a touch of pepper. Very floral, but a little different somehow.

Greens, lime, and some perhaps some type of white floral. French Lime Blossom is fresh, linden-like, and simple. There really is no base accord to it. Unpretentious. Like it or not.

Tuberose is a very interesting note. For a long time, I thought it was a piercingly sweet floral, and perhaps the flower is extraordinarily sweet in real life. Not so real tuberose absolute. Rather, it carries a heavy aroma like rotten flowers and rubber. Perfume being what it is (a recreation of natural smells) the method for putting the sweetness into the tuberose absolute is to add it back via chemicals--or the few sweet natural substances that are strong enough to compete with it. That is why perfume that uses tuberose absolute is always sweet. Without these additives, it would be ghastly. No one would wear it. No more deviating from the point, on to the review of Serge Lutens Tuberose Criminalle. My favorite aspect about this house is that the perfumers often avoid side-stepping the natural smell of the main accord. Instead, they ramp it up with supporting notes. This perfume is no exception. Dispite all other notes, it still smells like natural tuberose absolute. Another beautiful example is Iris Silver Mist, which smells very nearly exactly like orris butter. So, if you like tuberose, you must try this one before you can claim any familiarity with the note. Either that, or buy a sample vial of the absolute--but you'll never wear it.

Very sweet, leathery, and spicy. A little smoky. Lots of amber. This is the best way I can describe it. My gold standard for leather scents is a vintage bottle of Chanel Cuir de Russie (which smells little like the modern version) and is pure saddles, horses, barnyard, and a cowboy with a can of Skoal in his back pocket. Now, moving on to the newer leather creations, we have Serge Lutens with the apricot suade of Daim Blonde and the spicy, fruity, leather of Cuir Mauresque. They are enjoyable, but nothing like the old, animalic genre. I'm not a big leather fragrance fan, so I give it a neutral.

What a knockout of a fragrance. Having never known about this fragrance before, I tried it for the first time 20 years after its inception. Amazingly, I mistook Boucheron for a floral when I first applied it. Rapidly, a spiciness overtook the flowers, and then a citrusy floral over a creamy-sweet base, until it morphed into its true form--a big, woody, powdery, sweet Oriental with sillage to die for. This was made in the 80s, no doubt. Bold, memorable, and utterly pleasant for me.

As close to a plain oud fragrance as they come in this line. I found this to be a very pleasant, light, woody scent, close to the smell of the genuine substance. (I do have a sample, and it is stronger, dirtier, and smells more like a bag of aged hardwood mulch. The Montale perfume is more wearable.) I think that this perfume also has a bit of a vetiver-like aroma. Original Oud is only slightly sweet, no florals. Nice job. Doesn't last as long as Montale's other ouds, though. If you're looking for a unique woody fragrance with few supporting notes, this one is great.

Loved this one. Rich, deep, spicy, creamy, sweet. I adore fragrances of this genre. Mandarin and jasmine, patchouli, and spices, all laid on a base that simply glows and ends up smelling like vanilla creme soda or sassaparilla. Luscious.

Sweet, smokey. The birch tar smells dry and rubbery. More of an environmental scent, but people shouldn't smell like this, the outdoors should.

Sweet, carroty, very delicate peppery top note. This is a highly realistic but somewhat thin orris. It smells lovely, like genuine orris butter.

A floral that quickly turns into more of a spicy perfume. Features bergamot, mandarin, jasmine (all good partners) plus cinnamon and cardamom (another nice pairing.) Delightful.

Green, milky freesia and hyacinth. Envy is a classic scent, yet not my type. Smells like the ubiquitous department store of the 1990s. Ritzy, cool, and emotionally removed. Young women ready to go clubbing.

This is a timid chypre in the new-school style, which is to say, tone down the oakmoss, patchouli, and labdanum. (Lord, this is such a boring genre for me. I'm an old-school fan. Chypres use to have so much more character.) Juicy Couture wants to be a fruity chypre, but it cannot decide which fruit to be. And it wants to be popular, which means that it cannot go too far in any direction. So it ends smelling meek, like a carton of juice that somebody forgot in the refrigerator for too long and it is starting to turn to wine. How daring. I'll skip it. Pass the real stuff.

Maybe I'm having an off day, but I wasn't unduly impressed by this one. The only other Del Rae I have smelled is Amoreuse, which was like living plants, like a blast of cool air from a flower shop, and I loved it. I was surprised by Bois de Paradis. I missed the notes completely. It was lush, sweet, almost chocolatey, with mint, berries, and patchouli. Then it turned into pure honey on me. Intensely sweet, toothachingly sweet, and I thought of Angel. Except I get honey, not cotton candy. Just not for me.

I'll be honest; I don't like this. It just isn't my genre. I didn't try it on my skin; it might do something magic there, but it would have to pull a rabbit out of a hat to make me want to wear it. I'm not getting any of the listed notes. Without looking, I thought it was ozonic. It was so airy, so intense, so persistent. I thought maybe it had a bit of lavendar or herbs. After I read the notes, I might agree with violet leaves, which are rather sharp and vegetal, but more salty in my opinion. This fragrance is so big and airy it's almost windy, or even watery. It's definitely masculine. I didn't enjoy it.

I smelled a few Creed fragrances at the same time, and I liked this one the best. The others were decidedly floral, but this one was different. Royal Water is clean, woody, herbal, almost dry. Imagine my surprise to not find vetiver listed among the notes. It started out lemony, and I swore there was incense in there as well. As the citrus withdrew, it maintained its crisp, cool, airy character. Are you sure there isn't any vetiver? Only herbs and spices? Oh well. Overall, it smelled more masculine than feminine to me. I enjoyed this one on paper, but I didn't get to try it on my skin yet.

The main component of this perfume is a particularly dark labdanum (also known as amber, or the resin of the rock rose plant.) It is a big, raw fragrance. It knocks on the door. You answer. Standing there is Youth Dew's foreign cousin. She is covered in a burka, and she smells like an Arbian bazaar. Ambargris is deeply spicy, resinously woody, syrupy sweet, and smoky, too. The scent is far more exotic than her American counsin's cinnamon and patchouli. You want to see her face, which is concealed by black fabric. She comes in, carrying big leather carpet bags and sits on a cushion on the floor. Finally, she unveils, and you can see a resemblance to her half-sisters, Serge Lutens Amber Sultan and Arabie. She unpacks a box of spices and dried fruit. She lights chunks of incense on top of charcoal in a brazier. That is the impression that this perfume gives, sweet, syrupy, fruity, smoky amber.

A very un-Chanel-like fragrance, it lacks the usual transparency, right from the start. With a heavy vanilla combined with a piquent incense, it creates an unsettled accord that veers between creamy-sweet and campherous-resinous. Don't worry, it all works out when an earthy patchouli steps forward and steers it down a definite woody-sweet path. It might take some getting-used-to, not being what you would expect from Chanel (more like Montale Patchouli Leaves) but its intriguing and a move in a new direction, toward the style of niche houses. Initially I preferred the beautiful 31 Rue Cambon, which goes on drier and gradually develops a sweet peachy note. However, Coromondel won my affection with its more overt, fascinating candied fruit note and pronounced patchouli. It's less subtle, but then, so am I.

I was excited to try Sycomore because it is by Jacques Polge who created Bois des Iles, but there is no reference to that former fragrance. Sycomore strikes me as a completely new genre, one of the "environmental" fragrances that transport the wearer to imaginary surroundings. It is ambiance in a bottle, but it reminds me of something I once read on a forum, "People shouldn't smell like this, room should." In fact, not rooms, but the outdoors. I smelled nothing of the florals described by previous reviewers. Sycomore is a vetiver fragrance--and a smokey one at that. It is challenging. It is dry and salty--and peppery. It is decidedly masculine. Do I like it? Not really. I think it is an artistic achievement, but I would not wear it as a perfume. Please pass the gingerbread, instead.

Exhuberant, sweet, candy floral with a dominant violet note that slowly turns into a bright raspberry. If this is your type of fragrance, go for it. You'll love it. Not for me, though.

Big bouquet of sweet, orange-scented flowers, jasmine and a spring bouquet. Very pretty, but too sweet for me.

An Oriental in the line of Shalimar, with its lemon and vanilla, plus a particularly bitter wood or leather note. Not terribly original, but it has a nice, strong, bold presence. Still, I would just as soon get Shalimar in the pure parfum concentration.

Green chypres--how I love their mossy redolence and outdoorsiness. They don't make many new ones in this venerated genre. That's why it's important to know which ones still exist. Anyone who likes Paloma Picasso or the old Norell should try Scherrer. (There are two entries in this directory by the names of Jean Louis Scherrer and plain Scherrer, both 1979, so I'm assuming they are a double entry.) This perfume is gloriously green with spicy florals ona a mossy base. It is less sweet than Paloma Picasso, but both manage to acheive a forestlike aroma trhough the use of galbanum, patchouli, and oakmoss. The spices are anyone's guess, buty they differ from the typical Oriental mix, leaning toward fresh and evergreen rather than sweet and gourmand. I hope that some day this unusual and highly satisfying genre makes a comeback and accrues more entries in the market.

Green chypres--how I love their mossy redolence and outdoorsiness. They don't make many new ones in this venerated genre. That's why it's important to know which ones still exist. Anyone who likes Paloma Picasso or the old Norell should try Scherrer. (There are two entries in this directory by the names of Jean Louis Scherrer and plain Scherrer, both 1979, so I'm assuming they are a double entry.) This perfume is gloriously green with spicy florals ona a mossy base. It is less sweet than Paloma Picasso, but both manage to acheive a forestlike aroma trhough the use of galbanum, patchouli, and oakmoss. The spices are anyone's guess, buty they differ from the typical Oriental mix, leaning toward fresh and evergreen rather than sweet and gourmand. I hope that some day this unusual and highly satisfying genre makes a comeback and accrues more entries in the market.

Sandalwood--deep, oily, and ethereal. I used to think this was close to a pure sandalwood fragrance, but I have done alot of experimentation with resins, and I am able to identify their presence now. Although there are a minimum of supporting notes, this also qualifies, in my mind, as an incense fragrance. There is a good deal of myrrh as well as amber in here. Sandalwood is the star of the show, but the myrrh is apparent all the way through the drydown. The combination of notes is good--it mimics physical warmth. Sandalo has been described as "dry" but I find also find it sweet. It smells like HEAT. This fragrance is dynamic. Although it is linear, the sandalwood is three-dimensional, moving off the skin like waves of rising air.

I had the wonderful opportunity of trying vintage Cuir de Russie parfum from the 1950s. It was the most animalic yet softest perfume I have ever smelled. The leather was incredibly realistic, like walking into the tack room of a stable, smelling the leather saddles and harnesses, and also the horses, sweet and fecal, and the cowboy, himself, with his can of chewing tobacco. The jasmine was exceedingly rich. I do not know what the modern version smells like, but the vintage was totally fascinating. It amazes me that women of that era wore such a bold fragrance. We should follow their lead.
Edited: I have now tried the new Cuir de Russie, and it is also beautiful, but not the same scent as the original. The new EDT is nowhere near as leathery or animalic. It no longer smells like a saddlery. If I had to guess, I would say that the missing component is castoreum.

I love this breath of green air, very Chanel-like, herbal and light, soft and diffusive, leavy and ozonic, with a base that is not overly sweet. If I had to guess, I would say there is iris, hyacinth, perhaps a delicate pine, some fresh kitchen herbs, all overlaid on a nice sandalwood. Who knows? It succeeds in avoiding the problems that plague herbal fragrances, such as a lingering bitterness (if not sweetened enough) or a crude soapiness (if sweetened too much). My sole complaint is that it doesn't project for long. I would have to apply it liberally. This is truly beautiful--fresh and cool.

Add this one to my short list of new Chypres that I love, falling into the category of "pink chypres" but avoiding the pitfall of the sour, fermented note that ruins most of them. In contrast, it starts out spicy-floral and ends fruity-sweet. 31 Rue Cambon begins, like all great Chypres, with a strong bergamot top note. It moves into what I would describe as a floral phase, with an impressive type of mellow, warm, carnation, or maybe a floral bouquet garnished with clove and other spices. After that, a sweet, soft, base becomes apparent, carrying a note that I can only describe as a teriffic kind of peach-apricot accord, which creeps in, increases, and remains until the end. Throughout its development, this perfume maintains a spicy characteristic that teeters on the edge of Oriental territory, indeed reminding me of the great Coco.

Iris, iris, and more iris. And a great version of it, too, devoid of powdery sweetness, smelling rooty like the real thing, not covered up by florals, and yet delicately sweetened, probably by an airy sandalwood base. I smell something delicately green and woody, maybe clary sage, or some other ehtereal note. And possibly a bit of pepper, which goes well with iris, like it did in Lancome Oxygene. This is in no way as earthy as Serge Lutens Iris Silver MIst. Its duration is regrettably short, as it comes off the skin in a heady, breezy rush. Enjoyable while it lasts.

I fell in love with this fragrance when I stopped looking for the rose and accepted it for what it is--an herbal perfume with exceptional depth and sweet darkness. Yes, the rose is still there, dried red petals locked in a pirates' chest, in the hold of an old wooden ship, in the dark, lit by the fire of guttering torches--but now it's explainable. The florals support the herbs, not the other way around. That big, musty, anisy, patchouli note? It's the star of the show, not an interloper that overtakes the poor, captive rose. This was Goth before Goth became a fashion statement.
Edit: I now have the cream. Although it is not a listed note, I smell quite a bit of something similar to civit accord.

Yes, those 80s scents were loud, and the Chypres were no exception, being both loud and weird, but they had so much more character than many of today's offerings, especially the new "pink chypres." This has great notes of galbanum, carnation, hyacinth, and other spicy florals laid on a nice bed of heavy amber in the old-school way. Georgio amuses me.

I smell mostly incense, or something that approximates it, which is a bit harsh and somewhat orangey, like olibanum. And it grows faint pretty soon. I liked CK One so much better.

This perfumes says, "I'm sorry, I want to wear perfume, but I don't want to offend anyone, so can I wear a little, faint, apologetic fragrance like this?" It went on soft and a little powdery, then it thinned out and shrank into the background, like a faint, clean musk and weak white floral contraption, all the while trying to be non-threatening.

Very floral in an almost bathroom spray way. Lily, gardenia, lilac, all stereotyped, exaggerated versions of flowers. It holds nothing back, is naively straightforward, unsophisticated. Not bad, but not for me.

Paris was underwhelming for me. I feel bad saying this because I wonder about my sanity when so many other people like this perfume. It came out of the bottle smelling interesting, like minty violets on a bed of rose petals. Then it developed no further nuances on my skin. It merely remained a nice floral and no more. (For comparison, I put Coco on my other hand, and that one had much more character and smelled much better throughout its development.)
I thought hard about another time that this happened: it was with Bulgari Pour Femme. Same thing--violets and roses, okay but nothing special. Then I noticed that both were by Sophia Grojsman, so I guess that is the commonality. Her rose and violet theme doesn't wear well on me.

I am not a scent snob. I will blind test anything. Although the notion of celebrity fragrances makes me shiver, and I particularly loathe fanciful, synthetic notes, I admit that I liked Mariah Carey M. Tiare flower, gardenia, patchouli, and incense make it a warm, somewhat woody floriental. (I wish I had not read that the sweetness was marshmallow.) I might not consider it FBW, but it was good. After I tried it on skin, I liked it less than on paper.

How disappointing. I pick up this edgy, fabulous, tattoo-painted bottle with skulls and words like "kills" and expect to smell something dark--weird. What do I get? Strawberries and cream.
Jarring. Ironic. (Is that the joke?) I used to like creamy strawberry perfume--when I was 13 years old. Maybe I still do, but I was so confused that I didn't give this one a chance. For toothaching sweetness, Angel or Mariah Carey M are better, I think. That bottle, though, is a total success. Looks like a Mexican prayer candle. I love those, too.

It's about time that I reviewed this. I bought a bottle of Eternity when it first came out. It smelled so good in those magazine inserts. I only used about one inch of the fragrance out of the bottle before I had to give it away. I'm afraid it smelled alot better on paper than it did on me. I got alot of freesia, orange, and rose, in a big, open, airy, spicy bouquet. It was both warm and cool at the same time, but it became obnoxious on my skin, overwhelming in fact. I cannot rate it negatively, however, because it was amazing at the time, and I still sneak spritzes of it now and then at the store. I just could not own a bottle of it.

Goes on medicinal and repugnant. Then a transformation takes place--sweetness and roses wafting in on a cool breeze. Mellows into a dark, spicy rose. Devastatingly beautiful. Gothic.
After wearing this for a long time, I finally got my hands on a sample of real oud extract, and I have to say I'm unsure if any commercial perfumes actually contain real oud. The real substance is sweetly dirty, has an almost "repulsive" quality, and smells alot like rotten wood. It also smells like oak wood that has been sawed too quickly in a mill, and has a "destroyed" smell. All of the oud perfumes I have tested, including Montales, have more bitterness and an acetone edginess that real oud doesn't have. I think Madini's Agarwood has come the closest to the real thing.

Oud has a preternatural way of taking rose and ramping it up to glowing neon intensity. Gorgeous, pungent, spicy, dark rose. Bitter, leather-like presence. Creatively rosey, like the distinct rose fragrance of the old-fashioned cream in the white glass jar. Sexy on men and women. This whole line of fragrances is bewitching. Black Aoud is also great.
After wearing this for a long time, I finally got my hands on a sample of real oud extract, and I have to say I'm unsure if any commercial perfumes actually contain real oud. The real substance is sweetly dirty, has an almost "repulsive" quality, and smells alot like rotten wood. It also smells like oak wood that has been sawed too quickly in a mill, and has a "destroyed" smell. All of the oud perfumes I have tested, including Montales, have more bitterness and an acetone edginess that real oud doesn't have. I think Madini's Agarwood has come the closest to the real thing.

This is is classified as a floral but registers as an Oriental, too. And it smells convincingly like a vintage perfume. It is so richly colored, so concentrated, so old-fashioned and heady, it hardly seems that it could have been launched in 1995. Many of my favorite notes are here--orange blossom, gardenia (tiare flower), sambac jasmine, amber, oakmoss, sandalwood, ambergris--but the sum is greater than its parts. 24, Faubourg produces a rich, deep, orangey fragrance that is neither citrusy nor candylike but elegantly floral, even woody. Smells like the "big" fragrances of the old days, unabashed and sensual. I tried it along with many other samples, and it stood above them, in a league of its own. Highly memorable, nostalgic, and evocative of wealth and taste. My only complaint is that the opening salvo of sillage is too great. I believe it was engineered to behave this way, but I wish it would moderate itself and let its scent waft gently from the wearer over the course of hours, not blast off so conspicuoulsy all at once.

I have had to review this perfume several times as I learn to identify notes. It is highly representatiave of the incense note--not as sweet and wearable as Black Cashmere, not as airy as Passage d'Enfer, not as herbal as Citti di Kyoto--but very realistic instead. This is the aroma that permeates Catholic and Eastern Orthodox churches.
The notes in this fragrance are extremely difficult to pinpoint. My favorite part is the opening, which is intense, almost fizzy lemon and orange, but bittersweet, like pineapple and tonic water. The heart is full of frankincense and myrrh, which are dried tree resins, very woody and rich. Many reviewers report a "mildew" note. Perhaps this occurs from the dustiness of the cinnamon and frankincense combined with the mustiness of the patchouli. It is quite pleasant to me. My only complaint is this: the base is difficult for me to wear. Inside is a smoky, bitter note that builds up with time. It smells herbal, like sage, and pungent, like burned green wood. The drydown becomes ashen if the fragrance is overapplied. I have been thwarted in my enjoyment of this fragrance many times because of this single note. Without it, Messe de Minuit would be less artistic but much more functional as a perfume. As pure artristy, I give it a high thumbs-up, but I have to drop my rating to neutral as a perfume because of my frustration with the drydown.

Wonderful violet and orange-scented perfume with oakmoss and miles of suade. Jolie Madame is charming. Don't you want to invite her in for tea, compliment her on her cute boots, her sassy haircut, and her retro dress? You do! Re-discover this perfume, and pray for no more reformulations.
One of my friend's husband smelled this on my wrist, and his positive reaction was so strong that he blushed and laughed in embarrassment. Isn't that fun?

This is the be-all-end-all of realistic grapefruit perfumes. I just bought Marc Jacobs Grapefruit for my daughter and, although she likes it, it was too simple and light for me. This one, though, is better for me. AA Pampleune is deep, fruity, bittersweet and weighty, with the help of the patchouli and vanilla base (neither of which is apparent in and of itself.) This is as good as a grapefruit perfume gets.

(This is for the vintage, not the new fragrance. I mistakenly put it in the new.)A classic herbal chypre in the old-school style. The richness and depth of the ingredients are apparent immediately and, like so many others of the 1970s, are no longer available to the perfumer's palatte. This is an odd perfume by today's standards. It is a combination of dry, bitter, green, herbal, cypressy notes expertly overlayed on a golden, sweet labdanum base. Probably the closest one could come to it nowadays is Estee Lauder Azuree, which is soapier and less herbal.

A classic herbal chypre in the old-school style. The richness and depth of the ingredients are apparent immediately and, like so many others of the 1970s, are no longer available to the perfumer's palatte. This is an odd perfume by today's standards. It is a combination of dry, bitter, green, herbal, cypressy notes expertly overlayed on a golden, sweet labdanum base. Probably the closest one could come to it nowadays is Estee Lauder Azuree, which is soapier and less herbal.

Artistically arresting, a bit difficult to wear. Dry, papery, peppery, bitter herbal, pungent. It has a soapy opening and is supposedly a "leather" scent, but it never segues into the animalic, indolic territory of Chanel Cuir de Russie, my benchmarch leather scent--especially the vintage juice. Rather, Azuree has in common with its two Estee Lauder classic "sisters" a certain sneezy dustiness. Whereas Aliage translates this note into overt greenness, Private Collectionlets it fade into a backdrop of florals and sweet amber. Azuree does neither. The same note hangs suspended in mid-air like a ray of sunshine made visible in dusty air for as long as the fragrance persists. Evocatively nostalgic, poignant, powerful, but not easy.

I love linden blossoms. They are joyous, green and sweet, yet wild and grassy. This is a reilable imitation of linden blossom, a feat accomplished with a balance of green, mildy fruity, tangy and sweet notes, foremost of which I smell the rind of watermelon and some grassy florals. Really, it is hard to describe. I am impressed that this perfume originated in 1955, is still available, and yet so few Americans have been exposed to linden soliflore. I tried the EDT, but I would recommend a stronger concentration. For those who have trouble finding this brand, Diptyque also has a Tilleul which is similar.

I usually avoid anything with a celebrity name, but I do acknowledge when I come across one that I like. This is one of the better "new chypres." (My favorite is Narciso Rodriguez for Her.) Lovely artfully balances the sweet and sour notes. (Nevertheless, I miss the heavy labdanum base of the "old-school chypres.") I can appreciate this new genre as long as I don't hold the two up for comparison. This one serves up a dollop of earthiness and woodiness with the florals--a standout lavendar along with an abstract bouquet-- but the patchouli is so mild that it won't scare away most women, and the vetiver and cedar never overtake the base. Why, it's almost--lovely. Yet, I sigh. Give me back my old Miss Dior.

I tried Musc Ravageur along with Muscs Koublai Khan. This one is clearly better for women. (We're used to sweet, vanillic scents. Some men think it is too sweet, so they should head straight for the MKK.) I prefer this one. It starts out with a sweet, candy, cardamom note that is absolutely delicious. The fragrance becomes quite powdery and soft, very warm and significantly ambery. Ever since my old Coty Wild Musc was made thin and weak, I've been looking for a good replacement. This is not the same, it is spicier while the other was vanillic, but it is a good candidate and a nice musk for women.

This is for men, not for women. It smells masculine, not in the sense that it uses notes for men, such as leather and tobacco, but that it smells like a man. First there is a burst of powder, and then a sweet cumin note of perspiration, and then a warm enveloping musk--the aroma of a man's clean groin. On a man, it's perfectly nice, but on a woman? It's too butch for me. The musk is perfectly naturalistic, neither too strong nor too dirty. (Ava Luxe Rasa Extreme was dirtier.) To me, the fecal notes are balanced and "aired-out" by the musk. Overall, I would choose something sweeter, more vanillic, and without the cumin. So, I'm giving it a neutral from my own viewpoint, as to whether I would wear it, personally. I have never smelled this on a man, but I would rate it positive in that situation.

I passed by this perfume without noticing it for years because I never look for fragrance at the Prescriptives counter. Rather, I am obsessesed with their excellent line of liquid foundation almost guaranteed to match any skin color. There sat Calyx. I finally sprayed it on, and it was wonderful. It rushed through some grassy, green notes and settled into a big white peach and apricot aroma that was delicious. Ordinarily I'm not a fruit scent wearer, but I fell in love with this. Big, round, sweet-tart aromatic fruits in a sparkling, green, mossy base. Excellent.

I love the smell of dried black tea leaves, but no perfume has successfully imitated that aroma yet. Some have done well with green tea, but the mild, sweet, woody aroma of black tea seems to be difficult to replicate. This perfume is more herbal and fruity. Tommy Girl has a strange dry, papery note that I could not readily identify. Is it harsh? Not really. Smoky? No. Astringent? Yes, a bit. All day, I tried. Finally, I realized that it was almost salty--like celery leaves. This note keeps me at arm's length.

It would take an army to steer me away from my favorite Dior fragrance, Miss Dior. (No, I take that back--if they reformulate it any more, I will refuse to buy it again.) Apparently my tastes do not agree with the masses. J'Adore is popular. Indeed, it is pleasant, and I can see why so many people like it. This genre of light, fruity florals is not my favorite. There are too many silly, simple ones. I wonder if most people wear them because they missed the chance to try anything better. For a fruity floral, I think Geir Ness Laila is more interesting. This is a Norweigan perfume of "mountain wildflowers" and a watermelon note, made with no synthetics--pretty amazing. I'll leave J'adore to the masses.

Dispite all the listed notes, Quadrille smells to me like plum wine with an herbal infusion. This is an enticing aroma, but not one that I wear easily. The notes are highly integrated and well-chosen. No herbs are listed, so I assume it is violet or leather (which other reviewers have mentioned) that exudes the bitterness which I describe as herbal. The overall effect is sheer but powerful. It is sure to please the discerning tastes of people looking for an unusual and unique fragrance.

I got a sample from an older bottle. This Alpona is amazing. It predates O de Lancome by three decades, and now I see how the later fragrance owes a debt of gratitude to its predecessor. Both are remarkable members of an old-school Chypre genre featuring citrus and herbs.
Both start with a tangy citrus, closely accompanied by a sweet heart note, before dropping gradually into a drier herbal finish. In Alpona, the landing is cusioned by the signature Caron powdery soft base, while O de Lancome has a clear base. Thyme is the featured herb in Alpona, while rosemary is predominant in O de Lancome.
My favorite aspect of Alpona is the candied-lemon-and-grapefruit-peel scent coupled with the powdery background, which creates an aroma like sifted flour during the making of holiday cake. The herbal ending is too dry for my liking. If it had a long-lasting sweet base, it would approach Holy Grail territory.

Enchanting, fresh, green floral. The flowers are cool and aquatic, as if floating serenely in an emerald pool, surrounded by the scent of growing plants. The Boronia is exquisite. It has a clean, spicy presence. Ayala Moriel's other green fragrance, Grin, has boronia and is a favorite of mine. This ingredient in combination with green pepper imparts a spicy "live plant" fragrance. Seaweed in the base gives the whole fragrance a unique and compelling wild and "freshly-watered" aroma. Add lotus flowers, and you can imagine this lively but peaceful fragrance.

Here I go with my gourmand challenge again. How do I wear something edible smelling without getting hungry? I can't do it. This one smells like maple syrup to me. I am a fanatic about maple syrup, refusing to buy any corn-syrup based, artificially flavored imitation, but insisting upon consuming only the pure, expensive boiled-down sap from sugar maple trees. This perfume compels me to make waffles. (Sigh.)

Violet is a note that fascinates me. It is cooler than the notes I usually gravitate toward wearing. I seek it when I need something different. This fits the bill--it opens with a breath of greenness and then takes on the odd, aromatic, candylike scent that is charactistic of violets. I cannot reisist violet candies, either. They taste like a strange combination of fortified grape wine and anise to me. Both violet perfume and candies were more popular in days gone by, which is why I feel nostalgic about them. Perhaps it is not my favorite floral, but I do like to indulge in violets occasionally. This perfume captures that old-fashioned essence--sweet, floral, powdery, and unusual. Vanilla and tonka add a modern touch, making it smoother than its predecessors.

Tamya is a complex perfume--a fruity floral, but not in the classic sense. It is warm and quiet in its beauty. No particular note asserts itself, but all of them are singing in unison, as if in a chord. And an unexpected combination it is, with notes that are not often found in together (see pyramid). This woody, fruity, and floral blend results in a scent that I can only describe roughly as tutti-fruiti, polished wood, and wildflowers. Unique? Right. One would anticipate that such an unusual perfume would smell loud. Wrong! The result is a skin scent, understated and versatile.

Sutul is relentlessly cheeful. Don't wear this if you intend to wallow in your bad mood. Goths beware; avoid it entirely. Lemony grapefruit notes (almost apricot) blend joyfully with jasmine, light and sunny, and radiate from a tiny spot of perfume dabbed on my wrist. They glow like shades of yellow and orange. The scent is light but strong, fresh and realistically fruity--and the citrus is long lasting, which is especially admirable for an all natural product. I used to avoid fruity florals until I found natural perfumes. Synthetic fruits can smell too much like candy. The notes in this perfume burst forth like grapefruit oil from the peel. Sutul is a great fragrance, refreshing and clear, bright and happy. I love this.

Laugh all you want. I tried half a dozen of Ayala Moriel's zodiac fragrances, and this one chose me. By that, I mean Capricorn smelled the best on me, in particular. And I don't need to tell you what sign I was born under... It is listed simply as a floral, but I beg to differ. On me, the woody undertones become accentuated. Capricorn transcends its listed notes. Neroli, magnolia, and rose make up the florals. Myrrh, patchouli, and vetiver constitute the balance of the fragrance. These notes are few but, WOW, do they work together beautifully! An utterly gorgeous, earthy, delicious, refreshing, sweet fragrance emerges and intensifies, quickly becoming a soft, natural skin scent. I love this. Totally me. I'm o glad that I tried the entire zodiac line before it was discontinued because Ayala Moriel will always make a batch of any zodiac fragrance upon special request, which is the benefit of knowing a perfumer who operates on a personal level with her customers.

I've been wearing this perfume for years, in all seasons. When I wear in the countryside, it meshes beautifully with the summer foliage. Ah, Ayalitta. This was the first all-natural fragrance that I ever bought, the first galbanum fragrance I owned, and one of my first chypre perfumes. It still ranks right at the top in all three categories. The opening salvo of galbanum is completely addictive to me--breathtaking and beautiful. Then jasmine moves to the forefront along with a patchouli-scented amber background. The galbanum and sage never lose their influence, having touched this fragrance in its entirety. No worry, oakmoss will always be in this formulation, regardless of the IFRA. This is one little gem of a perfume for green chypre lovers everywhere.

Scorpio smells like an old, dry, coniferous forest with brittle twigs snapping underfoot, where the trees have grown so tall that they block out the light and the rain, and a person walks around on the dusty forest floor, in the semi-darkness, surrounded by the aroma of wood and resin. The opening is black pepper, but it leaves an evergreen impression. There is no pine, spruce, or fir in here, no fresh needles, but solid wood. I attribute this woodiness to the opoponax. The perfume oil is a rich orange-gold color. Lotus makes up the enitre heart note, but I smell no florals per se. What happens next is the development of sweet leather notes. There is musk in here too, and the animalic notes work well in commbinatin ith the forest-like aroma. Scorpio is a cruelty-free, all-natural, animalic fragrance. What is it like? Strange. Unique. Totally unisex. Men should love this outdoorsy aroma. It turns into a subtle wood and leather skin scent on me. As soon as I tried it, I knew I had to buy it. It will soon be discontinued (because the whole zodiac line never got enough customer attention) but Ayala will make up a batch for you on special order anytime.

A big surprise. This is excellent--magical. I love it. I once tried a store tester on papar and hated it--I thought the terragon was revolting. On the skin, it is a totally different story. Samsara is a wonderful fragrance. It has won me over. Fascinating, cool vanilla and sandalwood with florals and spice. Overall, the fragrance affects me in the same manner as heliotrope, smooth and cool like vanilla ice cream. On my skin it becomes a shifting melange of flowers (feminine but not cliched) with a creamy/spicy base. Smooth, slick, sleek. Blends totally with my skin. Sinks in, takes hold, and spreads its fluid layer of seductiveness. Warning, buy the EDP. Unlike most Guerlains, the pure parfum is actually inferior, with a strange plasticy, coconut note. The EDP was truer to the intent, with the emphasis on the vanilla and jasmine notes.

L'Invisible is an oilibanum resin fragrance with candied orange peel and a bit of winey rose. It is quite exotic and good. It is a dense, sweet/sour combination of natural ylang-ylang, orange, lemon, rose, and hibiscus essences on a base of thick, dark resin. There is oak-moss, but it does not stand out distinctly like a chypre. The aroma is not what one would expect from conventional perfumes. These are distilled using water from natural plant materials without the aid of solvents. The technique causes the notes to have a somewhat fermented aroma, as if they have been stewing in the bottle for decades, like a vintage perfume. If you seek a fresh, clean, airy fragrance, steer clear of all Strange Invisible Perfumes. However, if you want to smell something unique and full-bodied, I bet there is something in this line that will intrigue you. This was one of my favorites.

Two horses of a different color, the EDT and the EDP, both of which smell like fine vintage perfumes, one striking and the other soothing. How could this be the same fragrance? Question answered: the formula was changed several times, and the EDP that I smelled was from a brief period when Adrian Arpel reformulated it into a sweet, green chypre, very beautiful, but not in keeping with the original character. The following reviews reflect this difference. Indeed, they are for two different perfumes:
First, the EDT which is close to the intent of the original formula, which was to excite and shock. It opens with a sharp galbanum and leather blast before developing into a sweet-and-sour combination, in which I smell gardena and vetiver. If this combination of notes does not seem to jive, that is precisely the point. Sharp green + sweet floral + sour vetiver = olfactory mayhem. Some people smell leather and ashes, and I certainly can agree to that. It is acrid, green, sour, and sweet. I smell marijuana smoke on my clothes the morning after the rock concert. I smell a vase full of flowers invaded by catnip. This is naughty, it truly is. What a joy. And at a reasonable price, too. This scent will turn heads. I can't see how a person could do without a small bottle of Bandit. It's a whole lot of fun.
Now for the Adrian Arpel version of the EDP, now obsolete. This shares alot of notes with Miss Dior, one of my all-time favorites. Bergamot, gardenia, galbanum, neroli, jasmine, rose, patchouli, sandalwood. Compared to the other, it has much less moss and labdanum and more sandalwood enveloping the flowers. Gorgeous fragrance. This one will turn heads, too. But it will be in approval, not in shock.

Intriguing composition of live-smelling roses anbd unexpected spices such as coriander and saffron. I am notoriously unsuccessful at wearing florals; they become piercingly sweet on me and then disappear completely. This perfume was different. Initially, I rejoiced at the scent of the roses, but overall, the scent was sour and peppery on me, live roses dried out. Since first trying this fragrance, I have become better acquainted with the vetiver note, which forms the basis of the dry character of this fragrance, and will probably upgrade my review to positive the next time I smell this.

I like tea. I like rose. This is supposed to have both notes, but all I smell is a sharp, green rose that is too piercing to enjoy. Not my cup of tea, I'm afraid.

Very plain jasmine. Sometimes jasmine takes on an "off" note for me which I can only describe as "volatile" like acetone. This one has it. C'est la vie.

Plain, clear, bright and sparkling rose soliflore. Simple and floral with no woody, musky, or amber base. I don't wear straight florals usually, but if you do, perhaps this will be your most rosey one yet.

Madini's version of vetiver is very masculine and fresh. Vetyvert is green and extremely woody, and this is a dry wood like cedar. Not very womanly, but nice for the guys.

Nardo is a tubersoe soliflore as well-behaved as they come. No extravagance is exhibited as in Fracas or Poison, this one is smooth and calm. I'm not a straight floral wearer, but if you are, you should smell this version of tuberose.

Madini has access to some of the best amber available, sweet, vanillic, and woody. Here it is, unadorned, and simply named Ambre. If it weren't so woody, it would smell like cookies baking.
Madini uses this base in many of its fragrances: Alma di Alma, Sahara, Olive Flowers. Try them all. One is bound to please you.

Billed as a narcissus soliflore, Narciso is a cheerful springlike floral. Although I am not a straight floral lover, I found it charming.

InCarnation is a clove-centered rendition of this flower, which is a nice departure from the cool, almost sneezy version most often constructed by perfumeurs. I have never found carnation to blend easily with my skin. Even the venerable Caron Bellodgia tends to make itself known on me rather than melting seamlessly into my own scent. Probably Etro Dianthus has smelled the best on me because of its warm, sunny, orange undertones.
I love clove. It is one of my favorite spices. Yet clove and carnation seem most successful on me when blended into a warm Oriental fragrance rather than a floral. If you wear it well, you should give this one a try. The clove is delectable.

Popy Moreni starts out too sweet for me. It smells almost Oriental or gourmand instead of floral, and it has a clashing coffee note that I do not like. After awhile, it settles down and the patchouli and amber base make it much more attractive. However, it is not unique enough in this respect for me to wear it and wait for the opening to die down.

I am one of those few people for whom L'Air du Temps fails to work its magic. I have tried it repeatedly through the years. On me, the carnation stands out, and it is a cool, spicy note which does not blend smoothly with my skin. (Even the venerable Caron Bellodgia is difficult for me to wear sometimes. Etro Dianthus has probably been the best carnation on me because of its warm, sunny, orange undertones.) L'Air du Temps has a breezy, light floral quality that doesn't project on me. I can completely understand its charm, though. For myself, I need more strength, warmth, and woodiness.

Blind testing Rococo, I picked up a note that I could only describe as a mild, peppermint candy, sweet and a bit cool. I looked up the notes, and it is probably due to the pineapple and spice combination. While I think this is a pleasant, mild aroma that is not exactly run-of-the-mill, I cannot claim that it is terribly distinctive, either. I would wear it, but it would not draw me irresistably.

A very beautiful skin scent and an excellent amber fragrance. Warm, sweet, vanillic, woody and resinous, it clings for hours. On par with one of my other favorites L'Artisan Parfumeur Ambre Extreme. Blue Amber reminds me of the best part of Chanel No. 5, the lovely drydown. It is uncomplicated but deep, soft but strong, and entirely comforting. If at first it does not appeal to you straight out of the bottle, do not dispair but wear it on your skin. Check back later and enjoy the melding of the golden fragrance to your body warmth. Exceptional lasting power, longer than Ambre Extreme. I give Blue Amber high marks.

It's good, but pedestrian. I enjoy it, but I would have trouble distinguishing it from a number of fragrances. I have to give it a qualified neutral rating because it lacks true distinction. Otherwise, I wouldn't hesitate to recommend it, as I think it would offend no one and would please most people.