Perfume Reviews

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drseid Show all reviews
United States

Sunshine Man by Amouage

Sunshine Man opens with a slightly medicinal smelling combination of moderately sweet lemon, orange and pineapple fruit-laced aromatic lavender before moving to its heart. As the composition reaches its early heart, things stay extremely linear with the starring fruity, slightly medicinal aromatic lavender remaining in full force, now supported by a significant dill spice and sharp cedar undertone with powdery vanilla joining the fold as time passes. During the late dry-down the lavender finally vacates, leaving the supporting cedar wood to couple with the now starring powdery vanilla through the finish. Projection is very good to excellent, and longevity outstanding at over 20 hours on skin.

Let me give folks a very quick early review for those who are looking for a quick verdict on Sunshine Man... The best way to describe my opinion of the composition is in one word, "terrible." With that said, my further thoughts for anyone who really wants to waste more time on this unfortunate concoction are that while the composition is neither derivative nor a lacking innovation, it leaves one with a distinct feeling that it was a bizarre lab experiment gone awry that Amouage decided to move forward with despite knowing so, or at least should have. I have enjoyed lavender when coupled with lemon before like found in the great simplistic Living Lavender by the talented Roberto Dario for his own line released last year, but its implementation here with the medicinal orange (what Amouage rather optimistically refers to as "orange brandy" in the official notes list) and even pineapple of all things is scary stuff indeed. Add to this disgusting combination the significant sweetness and *dill,* and you have a really poor end result to put it mildly. The only minor saving grace for this mess is the late dry-down when the sweet fruit and lavender, dill and all vacate, to leave a boring but passable cedar wood and powdery vanilla finish. The truth is Sunshine Man has the word "scrubber" written all over it from the moment of application. As an aside, near equally puzzling to the ultimate question of why this lab experiment gone wrong was released is the company releasing it. It is true Amouage has branched out somewhat from it early roots that lead to most of its best offerings, but if someone had me sample Sunshine Man blind, I would never in a million years have guessed this was an Amouage release as it has absolutely *none* of the hallmarks the house is known for. The bottom line is the $395 per 100ml Sunshine Man is an outlandishly "poor" rated offering from a house that is apparently looking unsuccessfully for a new identity, earning it a 1 to 1.5 star out of 5 rating and an extremely strong avoid at all costs recommendation to all.
13th October, 2015

Isis by Agonist

I admit to not knowing much about this house or scent. I received this in a packet of samples from ordering something recently from Luckyscent. I'm just now testing it, and I'm pleasantly surprised, based upon the notes.

The top notes suggest a rather brusk and ragged start - thankfully, they are either wrong, or this head cold had blocked out all traces of startling and tangy notes. I didn't smell any of them!

Of the middle notes, I was persuaded to give into believing this was a Caramelized peach desert - and my mouth watered and wanted more! Scrumptious!

The basenotes...dear diary, I am a mere mortal, but thank you that I can reach the stars this night...

I need to fall in love with yet another new scent like Madonna needs to continue wearing revealing clothing and gyrating on stage. But this...I might need this.
12th October, 2015

L'Ombre dans L'Eau by Diptyque

I do not smell rose or blackcurrant anything.

I smell something burnt on an old stove that really needs cleaning.

How can this be worn with joy?

I tried. I hoped for better in the middle notes. Nope. It was still gross.

I even thought I would give it a chance for the basenotes - there is a faint fruit/berry. But it does not redeem the the entire experience.

I gave it two stars because of the base notes - it had some of the actual notes it claimed. Otherwise, it would have been a one.
12th October, 2015
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pkiler Show all reviews
United States

M Génération by Mauboussin

I'm rather amazed that no one seems to mention the Oud in the middle notes...?
12th October, 2015

Hummer Black by Hummer

A darker ideal combination of Trussardi My Land and Paco Rabanne One Million. Cheap but decent.
12th October, 2015
drseid Show all reviews
United States

Iris Cendré by Naomi Goodsir

Iris Cendre opens with a relatively sharp, carrot-like clinical iris with a tinge of underlying bergamot citrus support. Moving to the early heart, the iris remains the star, now adding a supporting gentle smoky amber accord and a tinge of leathery labdanum rising from the base with barely detectable slightly powdery violet. During the late dry-down the labdanum takes control eschewing most of its leathery aspect, swapping in very natural smelling woods with the very slightly sweet amber remaining in support sans smoke through the finish. Projection is below average but significantly more than a skin scent early and longevity is deceptively very good at over 12 hours on skin.

Iris is a note that this writer admittedly is not a fan of. As such, it was with some trepidation that I applied the sample of Iris Cendre on skin to see if it could buck the trend of others in the genre that didn't impress. I am happy to report that while I may not be a fan of iris focused compositions generally, I certainly am a fan of *this* one. From the open, the composition distinguishes itself by featuring a very high quality iris note that avoids the powdery aspect frequently encountered with the ingredient. This iris is stark, a touch sharp and very carrot-like, not unlike the iris used in reference iris compositions like Iris Silver Mist. While the iris is impressive enough, the deft use of subtle bergamot blended with it by perfumer Rasquinet makes for a stellar tandem. Once the smokiness arrives in the early heart it never overpowers the starring bergamot laced carroty iris, instead providing subtle depth and maybe even a touch of leathery darkness for balance. During the late dry-down the composition shifts gears near entirely, as it turns into a fine natural smelling woody affair, with just a bit of the leathery aspect remaining from earlier to set it apart. The whole development from top-to-bottom is extremely well-done and transitions are seamless. On the negative side to those that find projection important, the composition really is not a huge projector. Early, it almost exhibits average projection but an hour in while certainly more than a skin scent, it definitely hangs relatively close to it. Longevity was a bit of a mystery initially, as the first time I wore the composition I really thought it was all but gone after about 8 hours, and on my fragrance-friendly skin that really isn't very impressive. On the second wearing, and subsequent ones thereafter it turns out I was mistaken, with the perfume hanging around well past the twelve hour mark. I guess I just didn't notice it because of its lack of projection, especially late. All in all, if you are looking for a powerhouse look elsewhere, but if you can deal with its projection issues (which may be a strong positive for many situations) Iris Cendre is a superb smelling iris composition that even an iris hater like me wants in his collection. The bottom line is the $187 per 50ml Iris Cendre transcends the stereotypical aspects of the iris genre, making fans of even some that tend to dislike the ingredient, earning an "excellent" 4 stars out of 5 and a strong recommendation to everyone except those looking for monster projection.
12th October, 2015

Cuir Cannage by Christian Dior

Although only created in 2014, this leaves the distinct impression of a pedigree that goes back decades. So much so that I can very easily imagine that this was worn by Marlene Dietrich on stage in 1920's Berlin. I get the distinct impression of well-worn leather, smoke, white florals and just a hint of something like brandy or honey.

Of the floral accords, I mostly get orange blossom up front, with hints of jasmine and iris as it dries down towards the somewhat powdery base. There may be a fleeting sense of rose, but it is not distracting or overpowering as I find rose can sometimes be. Florals aside, it is the ever-present leather accord and the wonderful birch base that dominates this creation and keeps it from being too sweet, floral or powdery.

It goes on very strong and lasts on my skin for well over 8 hours, yet it has perfect silage for this style. Despite my earlier reference to Marlene Dietrich, I don't find it to be either particularly masculine or feminine (a bit like Marlene’s persona!); it just is what it is and could easily be worn by anyone who chooses.

If I had to compare it to another fragrance, in my opinion it is much more akin to Serge Lutens' Cuir Mauresque than it is to the heavier and more animalistic Knize Ten. 5 stars and two thumbs way up.
12th October, 2015

Orange Blossom by Penhaligon's

I have to say I really like this fragrance, even though the first hit is really quite astringent - the orange and lemon combo blast is almost overwhelming and the pink pepper tingles the nose.

Those top notes died away fairly quickly. I got a strong waft of tart crisp greens like cut grass and new leaf (possibly the cedar coming through?) before the scent settled down on my skin leaving a really lovely, warming and spicy orange with herby undertones.

I have to admit my thoughts on this scent were probably swayed a bit by the lingering base notes of Annick Goutal's Encens Flamboyant, a strong true incense fragrance which I had on my neck already. Penhaligon's Orange Blossom was on my inner wrist - and when I brought it to my face to smell the dry down, the combination of both was extremely pleasing to the nose; Encens delivering a smokey base to the warm orange spices of the Penhaligon.

I can't detect any "candy" notes, but then it does seem to be a great match to my skin type, as the scent melts in with a soft orange hum. If I have any negatives, it would be the poor sillage - considering the cost of the bottle, I would have expected it to deliver a lot more. It's almost non existent unless someone comes in close to my skin.

Its final notes remind me of hot mediterranean summers, the smell of sun bleached grass and orange trees. I can't stop breathing it in, its just a lovely summer scent.
11th October, 2015

Dior Homme Parfum by Christian Dior

This is what a trace of signet smells like, on a paper that says - Dior, the King of all designers.

It's one of the best perfumes that came out on the market these past few years.

I wasn't very optimistic about Francois Demachy making something good out of a very popular perfume Dior made, because we've already had a chance to smell the whole variety of different l'eau's, sport and intense versions of this perfume, and because he already deformed the glorious Fahrenheit by turning it into edp.

Only its wide availability is what makes the distinction of this perfume from the niche concept, but by looking at all components of one perfume, this one really fulfills all of the criteria of high luxury.

Clearly defined fragrance notes and reinforced performances of intense predecessor. Strong, thick, constant, projective, savage, and, at the same time, very alluring for women.

If you've never had the opportunity to see the maniac in a tuxedo, this is your ideal chance. Olfactory orgasm....
11th October, 2015

Navigations Through Scent - Lijiang by Molton Brown

An unpretentious, yet truly delightful fragrance. Lijiang is a really well-crafted, weightless and fairly unique – despite seemingly faint and generic – uplifting blend built on a classy accord of green-floral-citrus notes with an initial dried-sweet vibe (then evolving into dried-spicy) and a subtle but perceivable sort of creamy woodiness. The osmanthus note is the true star here at first, and I think it’s quite well rendered. Osmanthus is an ephemeral marvel smelling like a sort of ylang-infused cold tea, so imagine something sweet, plushy, floral-green, slightly creamy and powdery but also grassy, fresh and slightly citrusy. Here, you get it brilliantly encrusted in a breezy, bracing and thin frame of light spices and a smooth musky-woody accord which as a miniature, comprises on its turn minimal nuances from salty vetiver to some “pencil shaving”. And that’s it. Dusty sunlight, a damp tea bag in a grassy winter garden. Peaceful and comforting, but exceedingly sophisticated too, in a really intimate and cozy way. The projection is really discreet and the longevity is quite short, but for once, they fit the design and the general airy and “evanescent” mood. Nothing outstanding, but really graceful and enjoyable.

11th October, 2015

Summer Hill by Crabtree & Evelyn

Whilst I would never class this - as one reviewer has - as a "toilet freshner spray", I admit I initially fell in love with this scent as a room fragrance burning oil.

The sheer floral intensity, far stronger than most other of C&T's fragrances, has surprisingly long staying power for such an inexpensive EDT.

Saying that however, the first hit almost knocks the nose off with strong green aldehydes that make my nose tingle and eyes water - its almost medicinal. However bear with it, because when it dies down (and it does so quite quickly), those intensely floral notes come singing through and just last forever on my skin. Heavy, warm white forals that waft with movement, evocative of a hot summer night in a mediteranean garden. Very feminine, very summer.
10th October, 2015 (last edited: 11th October, 2015)

En Passant by Editions de Parfums Frederic Malle

An early promise fulfilled with the initial strong and heady hit of "wet" lilac, like someone has just swiped their hand across a bed of dewy and newly opened flowers. It is achingly lovely, and so evocative of early spring.

But like that bright and shimmering period between the last snows and the early hesitant buds, it hits the skin and is gone within a few hours - far too soon. Heart notes dry down to a sweet powdery floral which, with little sillage, quickly dissipates to an almost soap-like and barely-there essence on the skin.

I'm giving it a thumbs up, but it only just scraped it for its initial beauty. Because at £100 for a 50ml EDP, the whole isn't worth it, no matter how sublime those top notes are.
10th October, 2015 (last edited: 11th October, 2015)

Fragonard by Fragonard

The original and the best of all Fragonard fragrances IMHO. Fragonard's signature scent is a clever piece of chemistry, in that it presents itself as a simple floral, but I think there is far more going on here than meets the eye. It's no "youthful, girly" fragrance, gone in a flash. It needs to be worn by someone who appreciates the journey.

The scent comes out strong and kicking, enveloping the body with an incredible sillage that keeps it lingering for a good long while. The lily and honeysuckle are the strong front presence, ably supported by warm, lingering amber tones on dry down. Eventually those delicious base notes come through; hugging the skin all milky-musky and piquant, strongly reminiscent of the head of a sleeping newborn baby - there is just no other way of describing it. At this stage, it is both delicious and addictive.

Be warned - Fragonard EDP is a deception. You think it's going to be a one or two note jockey, with those strong initial standardised florals; but it's smooth evolution into new and equally powerful heart and base notes, and its sheer scent longevity (7-8 hours +) makes it so much more than that.

A very sophisticated scent, when seen through to the end. I will buy a new bottle of EDP direct from the factory in Grasse at least once a year. Stay clear of the EDT (which M&S stocks) unless you are only after the initial floral hit. But in this case don't expect to pick up those marvellous milky, musky base notes with anything less than the EDP. It's worth the extra for this reason alone.

This traditional smelling classic is currently my everyday go-to perfume.
10th October, 2015 (last edited: 11th October, 2015)
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Ryder by Ex Idolo

An erotic symphony of notes in crescendo at the start!

I respectfully disagree with the reviewer who stated that this was Tom Ford's Amber Absolute merged with Dior's Feve Delicieuse, though I can see how he arrived at this perspective. There are interludes of both, and the references are undeniable. However, this is not all that encompasses this exquisite collection of notes and movements, at least in my experience.

Perhaps it is the addition of jasmine that saves this composition from becoming simply a nice "cover" for the afore mentioned giants. Jasmine weaves in and out over and over, like a melody that never gets played enough, so you enjoy it when you hear it. It is simply well-done, and a joy to wear.

I'd like to mention that this was a complete blind purchase (as many in my wardrobe are), and anyone who enjoys these notes should not be disappointed.
10th October, 2015

Italian Citrus by D.S. & Durga

On the trail of Armani Acqua di Gio and Acqua Azzurra Ferre, and for those who are a little more modest they can find a similar scent in Oriflame Ascendant Aqua. Small nuances that make the difference are felt in a slight smell of oranges. Perfume of moderate stability and projections, but the most popular summer perfume style of all times, which already says enough. Based on knowing the content, comparisons, highlighting key wearing time, place of application and continuous monitoring, and taking care not to jump to conclusions, I'm reducing the subjective impression, not giving importance to rumors that it reminisce of chewing gum and that it smells like an ordinary summer citrus edt, and I'm giving the strongest recommendation for wearing this perfume at all summer occasions.
10th October, 2015

Michelangelo by Onyrico

Onyrico Michelangelo, appointed by the talented performer Maurizio Ceriza, is a profoundly italian concoction, silent and evocative, from the diaphane top "welcome" to a spiritually elusive mossy bottom. Is hard to represent on the olfactory sphere such a huge creative personality and the main olfactive distinctive features from its tuscan homeland (a land rich of figs, forest fruits, nuts and trees of forests) but I have to say that Onyrico manages in its languishing goal to arouse a "Rinascimental" dazzling artistic atmosphere, eliciting it seriously right by creating this evocative fragranze. Michelangelo is modern despite its "other era" general aura. The overall experience burst by an exquisite boise humid/aromatic yet soapy-laudry blast of fig leaves (the olfactory artistic pillar of the whole aromatic journey), calibrated citrus, hyper aristocratic magnolia (the Queen of aristocratic class) and dark berries, something in the middle between Battistoni Marte Arte (another italian "artistic in inspiration" concoction, the closest perfumed thing to Michelangelo in my humble experience) and the diaphane fairy-boise Annick Goutal Ninfeo Mio, overall with the classic fougere structure we get in amazing italian classic gentleman's creations a la Salvatore Ferragamo Pour Homme for instance. We don't get in here a typically powdery-cedary or eliotropic linear monothematic figgy dust a la Diptyque Pholosykos since figs are by no means catalyzing, on the contrary a figgy molecular presence (herbal-leafy before than balmy) is just part of a far more harmonious distinguished mélange rich (especially in top and core) of resins from the dark woods, roots, humid earthiness (mainly provided by wonderfully grassy resinous cypriol oil), berries, nuts, grapefruit (providing classic structure) and languid (sharp and forbidding) floral elements supported by a subtle enigmatic fruitiness from masterfully dosed cassis which provides impenetrable soapiness and elusive class (playing a role not so distant from the one performed by blackcurrant in Ysl Opium Pour Homme Edp). We get in here cedary-resinous soapiness and figgy balminess but the main theme is further since the basic aura is (likewise in Marte Arte) aromatic, grassy, herbal, fruity, floral, resinous and even more. The atmosphere is by soon poetic, hyper rifined and centered on a juxtaposition between dark and bright presences. Going on with development dark fruitiness from the forest grows up higher becomig the main theme side by side with fig leaves and resinous mossiness. Darkness is indeed gradually enhanced by a stout association of mossy galbanum (oakmoss, galbanum and labdanum) and subtle olibanum supporting a super languid connection of dark fruity berries, fig leaves and magnolia while vetiver, cedarwood and patchouli imprint final balance and structured substance. Dry down is hyper solid and mature guys, all at once classic and modern, polished but surprisingly structured, sensual and rich of evocative tradition. Michelangelo is ambivalent and disorienting, aromatic bitter wildness and more minimalistic mild-soapy modern musky sensuousness manage to co-work merging their energies in a yet timeless creation (traditionally chypre/fougere and more lightly and modernly musky-chic). Roaming for Tuscan's sweet hills, ancient country houses and golden countryside routes, while leaded fully blissed out by birdcall, you will be teleported in a gravid creative past that any part of our planet earth can nowadays resume (and preserve) with such an hypnotic power. Let your mind to be conveyed back at time of Michelangelo Buonarroti and the city of Florence to be intended such the centre of spiritually creative universe.
10th October, 2015

Jardins d'Amalfi by Creed

Normally I cringe at the idea of wearing fruits...I eat them. But my goodness this is just splendid! I do not care if the genre has been done. So has rose - for centuries!

The blend of Rose, Neroli, berries, apples, and some woods (they say its Virginia Cededarwood, and having lived there a couple of years, and visiting quite regularly even now, I have no idea what they intend by that - I know the plant, I don't get its connection here) is a really nice and well-balanced composition. Very adult. No teens here.

Somewhere between the middle and basenotes, there is a weird skank isn't exactly "skank-sexy", but rather "skank maybe sexy"...sorta odd, and makes me want to spend more time with it, but then the dry down begins...

Because I own a rather large bottle of Haitian Vetiver, I can speak most clearly on that - it's here! And it is lovely. Sadly, I never smelled any cinnamon.

Warning: you may want to ignore this last part...I've somehow assumed the role of my husband's Italian way of telling a very short story very at your own risk of severe boredom!
I look forward to getting my husband's response. Earlier this summer he was asking if I had any fruity scents, which I emphatically said no, and he looked a bit startled and I may have shut down that conversation a bit too quick. However, you must understand, this is the wonderful man who purchased Blenheim Bouquet for me for Mother's Day, thinking it was exactly what I wanted. Poor man. I thought giving emphatic negative feedback was a logical way to go, but I think I frightened the man. Anyway (dear Lord, I think I've become a bit of an Italian from living with him for 10 years!), lately he has been really into the Slumberhouse stuff! Like really excited about pretty much everything I try, and when I compare it with stuff he previously liked...well...lets just say his taste in scent has altered dramatically! You had no idea you were a narcoleptic, did you?
10th October, 2015

Arabian Horse 3.1 by Parfumerie Generale

My first horse was an Arabian gelding named Brigadeer. Brig was quite a character and gained a following at shows, not because he won blue ribbons, but because watching him get off the trailer was quite a thrill for everyone who happened to be in the vicinity. Brig never did anything small - no, it was grandiose, all the way. He also made it a point to let the judges get to know him very well - by running them over. We were excused from as many classes as we finished.

I am not much of a fool for names, but I'll admit I wanted to love this juice when I heard the name. When I read the notes, I imagined the many days spent at the barn, cleaning stalls, feeding horses, bathing horses, handwalking horses, and just enjoying the scents that a barn holds for those who care to embrace the joys of the outdoors and the magnificent creatures housed in the beloved wooden structures.

I have searched for the perfect feminine leather for quite sometime. I've owned a few, and tried many more. What I have found frustrating over and over is the failure to capture the truest scent of a fine leather, such as the leathers used to make the custom saddles, bridles, and tall boots I wore. The feel and smell of fine leather - quality leather that allows you to feel the horse, yet that has the strength to move thru time and harsh treatment is rather unlike most leathers you see daily. I cannot describe the beauty and suppleness that comes with a fine English, French or Italian leather. The tanning process is much more refined and subtle. The chemicals less harsh, and the scent much more pure. It is an art. It is this scent I compare all leather perfumes to, and it is why so many fail for me.

When I stumbled across a tiny decant of this juice, I knew I had to have a full bottle. That was the worst part - getting a full bottle meant ordering directly from France, which is not cheap. The dollar is still not as strong as it used to be, and shipping is awful. But, I started selling off multiple bottles, and placed my order, and now I have my Precious!

When that box was delivered, I cried a little. I'm not joking at all. You see, I no longer have a horse. I gave up my most recent horse when my husband found out he had a rare form of cancer (all better now! Full remission!). I know I did the right thing, but I miss riding. Getting this bottle, well, I finally had an Arabian horse again. :)
09th October, 2015

Salome by Papillon Artisan Perfumes

Wearing Salome is like listening to Ice Ice Baby by Vanilla Ice and wondering why the opening bars sound so familiar. You know you’ve heard it before, but even while your brain is scrambling to retrieve the reference, you’re enjoying the hell out of the song.

Half the pleasure comes from that feeling of “I know this tune…. don’t I?”

The thrill of the new is over-rated anyway. A friend of mine once said that the older he got, the more ok he was with buying multiple variations of a fragrance he loved. In other words, as long as it was a fantastic rendition of something he already loved, he didn’t mind if it was original or not.

The realization that Vanilla Ice simply (shop) lifted entire sections from Queen’s Under Pressure doesn’t stop me from loving Ice Ice Baby. It is its own creature, even though it plays off a chord that is deeply familiar.

Salome is a tour of the greatest hits of the fragrance skankiverse, sampling riffs from well-loved songs such as vintage Bal a Versailes, Musc Tonkin, Femme, and Theo Fennel Scent, and spinning them off into something that, while not new or wildly original, is an utter pleasure to wear. And it is such a beautiful and accomplished riff on those fragrances that one might be tempted to replace some or all of them with just Salome.

It is a ludicrously dense, packed fragrance. A super-saturated supernova of a scent with layers and layers of heavy musks, fur, flowers, spice, and sweat.Let me try to unpack the layers.

Right away, I smell a layer of vintage Bal a Versailles floating on top – honeyed orange blossoms, tobacco-leather, and a refined urine note (possibly civet). Salome’s take on Bal a Versailles is – dare I say it – an improvement on the original, because it completely removes that odd, cheap note I like to call “Plasticized Air” that always pokes out at me from Bal a Versailles. The sleaziness I always pick up from orange blossom slots in perfectly here with the cumin.

And wow, Salome is also super-cuminy. This layer strongly recalls Rochas Femme – not the softer, muskier vintage version, but the modern version which fairly shrieks with cumin, put there to give Femme back the sex curves it lost when all manner of nitro musks were banned. The cumin gives Salome a crude sexuality, reminiscent of a musky, female crotch – not unwashed crotch, just, um,….. heated, shall we say. If you’re someone who thinks that Amouage’s Jubilation 25 (the woman’s version) or Al Oudh smell like the armpits of a New York cab driver, then avoid Salome at all costs.

Under all this, there are heavy, animalic musks providing a sort of subwoofer effect, amplifying and fluffing up the other notes. I can easily identify two of my favorite musks here.

First to reach my nose (and then fade away very quickly) is a rich, furry musk strongly reminiscent of Muscs Khoublai Khan. This is mostly the effect of a rich, warm castoreum soaked in rose oil, but the similarity is impressive. MKK and Salome share this unique effect of the musk almost taking up a physical presence in front of your nose – like the swelling scent of damp hair or a damp fur coat being dried off in front of an old-fashioned electric bar heater. I can’t quite explain it, but the musk here has a tactile quality quite like sticking your nose above an agora sweater and feeling the static pulling the fine angora hairs towards your nostrils.

Underneath the short-lived MKK-style musk is the almost painfully animalic musk from Musc Tonkin – one so utterly redolent of the fur and animal fat of a marine animal that it comes off as faintly briny. Thankfully, though, it never quite approaches that metallic edge that Musc Tonkin has (which fascinates me but also repels me in equal measure). But that salty, fatty animal aspect of Musc Tonkin’s musk is present in Salome to a large degree. It accounts for the scent’s overall savory profile (as opposed to sweet).

More than anything, though, Salome reminds me of the female-sweat-soaked, musky Scent by Theo Fennell. In fact, what unites Salome, Theo Fennell Scent, and to a lesser degree, Musc Tonkin (in my mind) is the mental image I have of a group of ladies visiting each other in a formal front room in the early 1900s. It is a picture of repressed Victoriana – a room almost suffocating under the weight of dying flowers in vases, a certain “closed in” feel of an over-heated room, and stiff, rustling garments that haven’t been washed or aired recently.

And just below the surface, a massive wall of scent roiling off damp, heated womanflesh too long cooped up in restrictive brassieres and corsets. Although the room is heavily perfumed with roses and jasmine, there is something unhealthy and morbid about the atmosphere.

It’s just the type of perverseness I find sexy.

Overall, Salome has a very vintage vibe to it. If one were to subtract the brash cumin and one of the saltier animal secretions, then it would take up a more recognizably French, classical form. Underneath all the animal howling and beating of the breast, Salome is a chypre and as such has a dark, abstract structure to it that stops the dirtier elements from being a total pork fest. In its last gasps, Salome takes on the 1970’s feel of La Nuit by Paco Rabanne with its dank honey and moss tones.

Salome might be a remix rather than an original, but it reminds me that, in terms of sheer enjoyment, remixes can sometimes surpass or replace the original.
09th October, 2015

Equipage Géranium by Hermès

Among the most prominent designer brands, Hermès is currently probably the only one which is still able to deliver solid products on a consistent basis, at least for the masculine/unisex side – good, sometimes great, decently boring in the worst cases. This new addition to their classic series confirms that commitment to respect customers’ taste and intelligence. Equipage Geranium is in fact, briefly put, a very solid fragrance. It pays all respects to Equipage’s heritage, cleverly reworking its bone structure by giving it a sharper, colder, more floral yet somehow drier shape – shortly, a fresher, more contemporary look. And also a sort of more transparent, edgy texture. I must say that globally it is very similar to Equipage, even almost too much, and you easily get it since the very opening. “Equipage in spring”, so to speak: all that timeless, distinguished, smoky herbal-woody refinement tinged with a shade of cold, yet cozy an breezy geranium and a sprinkle of spices, topped with a really enjoyable citric accord – citrus was there in Equipage too, here it seems a bit stronger and more persistent. The evolution is equally enjoyable, the scent – which turns out to be quite more long-lasting and bolder than you may assume – gets drier, a bit darker and woodier as a base blend of bitter mossy woods (vetiver mostly) and, I think, some cloves-leather accord gets a more prominent position, with even a touch of grey, slightly powdery smoke arising and giving some dusty, refined warmth to the blend. Still a sharp herbal blend, just a bit moodier and more somber. Oddly enough, as we’re talking about two opposite types of fragrances, the emerging of a general sense of dusty-sweet warmth brings in a really distant echo of the very drydown of Tiffany for Men, too.

Coming to the main feature and the “raison d’etre” of this flanker – the geranium – I am sadly not familiar enough with it, so I can not comment on the specific note extensively. Never been a fan of it, actually. But it seems, well, really good to me here. It smells crisp, tolerably acrid, even slightly fruity and powdery while remaining bracingly sharp and minty. And it shows some evolution, which is often a sign of quality of materials – it doesn’t simply decrease its presence, but it changes and evolves, getting unexpectedly warmer and more “powdery-floral” before leaving the stage to the mossier-woodier drydown, with sandalwood and salty vetiver as nearly-main notes – both quite thin, but fulfilling and solid.

So overall, you surely get the “Equipage” first, and only then, the subtle, brighter floral-spicy variations. In other words, don’t expect a geranium-based scent; rather a subtle, elegantly executed spicy geranium-based variation on Equipage. Whether you care for or know Equipage already, the final result is an extremely pleasant, refined “old school” fragrance with a palpable “vintage” feel (the mossiness, the virile and restrained dryness, the austere herbal-woody structure with that nondescript sort of citric-metallic feel so many classic masculine scents had, and so on – several classic names come to mind, from Monsieur Carven to, obviously, vintage Equipage itself) and a more contemporary tangy accord of spicy-grassy notes. Quite a mature, “over-30” discreet fragrance fitting like a bespoke glove, lasting longer than I expected and projecting just perfectly. Maybe just a tad too close to Equipage to make sense for Equipage fans, but... well done, Hermès.

09th October, 2015

Givenchy Gentleman by Givenchy

I don’t know the current version of this gem, and given Givenchy’s descent into mediocrity of the past couple of dozens of years, I am not sure if I want to; but the vintage incarnation of Gentleman is by no means inferior to many other timeless vintage masterpieces – and I mean the true Olympus of those, next to Tiffany for Men or vintage Chanel Antaeus. I personally find Gentleman extremely distinguished, extremely high quality, and extremely unique, if not really innovative for its era. My review could (should?) really end here, but well...

The thing I find innovative here is above all the way the combo patchouli-vetiver is used in the composition, and the notes which Léger’s genius decided to surround it with. Basically, the “frame” here is an earthy-smoky texture rich in herbal, hay and woody-leather nuances, which is brilliantly paired with a traditional aromatic lavender-infused fougère bone structure (think of Azzaro pour Homme, although it came later) and a touch of tangy and grassy citrus (similar to verbena). All of this surrounding then the true star of Gentleman, the patchouli-vetiver accord I mentioned above, which gets brilliantly enhanced by earthy, musky, smoky and sweet nuances; the dampness of hay, the indolic smokiness of leather and civet (just a hint, but you definitely smell that little devil rambling beyond the base notes), and a subtle yet perfectly perceivable smooth touch of warm, sweet-powdery-musky floral notes with a shade of vanilla.

Now, it may seem a heavy or complex scent with a lot of nuances ranging from herbal, to smoky-leathery, to woody and sweet-powdery, but it isn’t really. Or well, it is complex indeed, but not too “powerful” at all. It’s a refined, almost tame fragrance, perfectly reflecting its name, delightfully gentle and discreet, cozy and elusive at the same time. It’s so well put-together that it smells perfectly crisp, bright, even fresher than it may seem despite there is many “dark” notes. Truly a perfect uplifting harmony by no means “heavy” to smell – on the contrary, extremely easy to wear and to like. It’s amazing how the notes are there, clear and rich, and yet this fragrance has a remarkably weightless presence on skin – it’s substantial, but really mannered.

Surely a “vintage gentleman’s scent”, probably one of the most sophisticated around, but quite unique and actually, maybe more modern than others, if not slightly more “youthful” too (maybe thanks to the “hippie touch” of patchouli). Needless to say it smells rich, persistent and clear for hours, with a perfect projection and an impeccable drydown which gets gently drier and woodier (that vetiver again!) as hours pass, still keeping a touch of floral muskiness lurking in the background. What else to say? An amazing modern classic of masculine elegance perfectly showing the old school French taste for “classy dirtiness”, that unique ability of many classic French masculine scents to smell refined and cozy still keeping it dirty, complex and even subtly “raw”. Fantastic.

09th October, 2015
drseid Show all reviews
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The Swan Princess by The Vagabond Prince

Swan Princess goes on with a tinge of bergamot citrus and slightly metallic floral cyclamen before quickly transitioning to its early heart. Moving to its heart the cyclamen and bergamot vacate as an absolutely huge super-powdery near almond-like heliotrope rises from the base, obliterating everything in its path save supporting cedar wood, and faint peony and rose florals. During the late dry-down the powdery almond-like heliotrope remains, coupling with semi-sweet, smooth sandalwood and slightly animalic musk through the finish. Projection is very good, as is longevity at 10-12 hours on skin.

The first outing from The Vagabond Prince, Enchanted Forest, was a drunken fruit punch focused dud despite being composed by the extremely talented Bertrand Duchaufour. After that fiasco, surely reenlisting Duchaufour for its next release, Swan Princess, must result in a better outcome, right? In a word, "Wrong." As bad as the initial outing was, this one is regrettably even worse. The key culprit is a torturous combination of supercharged powdery heliotrope and near synthetic smelling cedar wood that completely doesn't work. Duchaufour tries to bridge the gap with subtle floral peony, but while he has done a stellar job with that ingredient in the past in his brilliant Rose Cut for Ann Gerard, here it fails miserably. Things at this point become a pretty linear affair, and if one doesn't like what they sniff now, it doesn't get any better late. Knowing what Duchaufour is capable of I have to believe the real trouble with these compositions for The Vagabond Prince must lie in some unfortunate briefs he has had to work with. In truth, I am quite afraid to think what The Vagabond Prince will ask him to come up with next. The bottom line is the $200 per 100ml bottle Swan Princess is a messy floral woody concoction that its talented nose just "phones in," earning a "poor" 2 stars out of 5 rating and a solid avoid recommendation.
09th October, 2015

Hermèssence Cuir d'Ange by Hermès

Hermessence Cuir d'Ange unveils by soon its real substance that is powdery (vaguely eliotropic), decidedly leathery (though soft in approach) and surely floral (at list in the fleeting top side). Actually floral notes perform each of them a diverse sort of substantial role since while earthy-leafy violet is just present in the top, eliciting there for a while a touch of tart/wet angularity, iris is softer (and longly influencing) providing a typically synthetic cosmetical twist joined to musk and leather. Opening is for a while wet, grassy, softly aldehydic and barely hesperidic. Leather, with its supremely smooth opacity, discloses immediately its wings and it plays warmly, in a weirdly floral-mineral temporary way conjuring me shortly several Histoires de Parfums's concoctions a la Rosam, Ambrarem and particularly Petroleum. In particular I get a dramatic (almost gothic) accord of patchouli, powdery woods, lipstick/resinous powder settled by eliotropic-musky-sticky iris, musk and petrol (a leather/resins/rubber/waxy powder opaque -spicy dusty- dominant accord which seems representing a sort of ideal "fil rouge" with a secret Histoires de Parfums' recipe). I can't deny that several lipstick iris/soft leather/musk dominant accords jump gradually on mind (from Dior Homme Parfum to Heeley Cuir Pleine Fleur, from Parfumerie Generale Cuir d'Iris to Laboratorio Olfattivo Daimiris, from Parfum d'Empire Cuir Ottoman to Memo Italian Leather and Cuir by Lancome) but in here musk (temperamental floral notes) and waxy iris are ephemeral while leather is dominant in its enigmatic mistiness. Cuir d'Ange is somewhat linear and close to skin, it is a really refined (or better smoothly shy) musky-leather in which floral notes are basically evanescent and just synthetic iris is central with its soft buttery vibe perfectly joined to smooth leather and powder. There is also a sort of cedary-incensey slightly smoky ghostly aura a la Naomi Goodsir Cuir Velours around the general suede-driven softness (it seems to get sort of smoky fir resins and mineral-incensey dustiness), a presence providing an almost liturgical mistiness, grey and moody as a dreary humid afternoon roaming for medieval abandoned sites and arcane sacre venues. A solid (though not precisely original) choice for the lovers of soft leather-genre with a glance oriented to melancholic elusiveness and solitude pursuit.
P.S: along the way leather slightly recedes and something more markedly floral starts coming up.
08th October, 2015 (last edited: 10th October, 2015)

Portrait of a Lady by Editions de Parfums Frederic Malle

oh...this is good. Really good.

I'm in trouble. I never knew rose could be so violently complex yet so sweet and comforting. It is the whole rose composed, thorns and all. I feel its sting, yet the velvety smooth petals bring me so much joy. This is the BDSM of fragrance.

The blending of the patchouli is a dance of push and pull - like a sensual mating dance. The rose plays hide-and-seek with the patchouli and it's a mystery as to when and why one appears and one doesn't.

The sandalwood lays low, but it not quite demure. It makes me smile even as I type this review. It's a lovely balance. Perfect.

Certainly, this is an expensive fragrance, but one that is most worthy of a full bottle.
08th October, 2015

L by Lolita Lempicka

I'm gonna be honest, and admit that I purchased this for the bottle. I had no idea what to expect from it scent-wise.

Delightful - truly. The cinnamon was a surprise. For the first 15-20 minutes, I smell as though I walked into a bakery that just finished baking cinnamon bread.

The vanilla that comes thru is not too sweet, and is quite elegant - again, not something I expected.

The bottle is gorgeous, and truly misleading. This has nothing to do with aquatics, summer, sand, or anything you would envision with the likes of such a sculpture. While my brain suffers a bit with this juxtaposition, I do appreciate the comedy.
08th October, 2015

Winter Woods by Sonoma Scent Studio

Anything by Sonoma Scent Studio is as rare as a hen’s tooth over here in Europe (distribution problems) so when I got the chance to buy a decant of Sonoma Scent Studio Winter Woods untested, I just had to go for it. I rarely buy blind anymore, but I’m a committed fan of anything Laurie Erickson does, so I knew that the risk factor was low.

In the end, I think I’m going to have to ask one of my U.S. friends for a big (and perhaps illegal?) favor, because 4mls of this dark elixir is just not going to be enough. I need more. How much more? Technically, let’s say it has to be enough to stop those feelings of helpless rage and sorrow every time I see the level in that decant bottle dip any further.

Winter Woods goes on with a whomp-whomp of a hot, dirty castoreum note married to the cool, sticky, almost mentholated smell of fir balsam. Immediately, you are plunged deep into a dark woods at night, all around you silence and the sticky emanations of sap and balsam and gum from the trees. There is an animal panting softly nearby – you don’t see him, but you can smell his fur and his breath.

But it is warm and safe there in the woods. As a warm, cinnamon-flecked amber rises from the base and melds with the animalics and the woods, the scent becomes bathed in a toffee-colored light. There is sweetness and spice here. It smells like Christmas, and of the pleasure of breathing in icy cold air when you are wrapped up, all warm and cozy.

In the heart, a touch of birch tar adds a smoky, “blackened” Russian leather accent, and this has the effect of fusing the heavy, sweet amber with a waft of sweet incense smoke. It’s as if someone has opened a valve of SSS’s own Incense Pure in the middle of the woods – a dry, smoky outdoors incense for a pagan ceremony perhaps. I also sense some dry tobacco leaves here, reminiscent of Tabac Aurea, another SSS classic.

I love the way that the heavy layers of the fragrance – amber, woods, animalics, labdanum, and incense smoke – have been knitted together to form one big angora wool sweater of a scent. It is heavy, but smooth, and a total pleasure to wear. If I could get my hands on it, I would buy a big bottle of it in a heartbeat.
07th October, 2015

Parfums des Beaux Arts Cimabue by Dawn Spencer Hurwitz

Dawn Spencer Hurwitz was originally asked by a fan on to recreate her favorite perfume, Safran Troublant, because she had heard it was being discontinued (it wasn’t) and was distraught.

Cimabue is not a faithful rendition of Safran Troublant, but instead a loving tribute that ends up taking the delicate saffron-infused rice-pudding-and-cream accord of the original inspiration and spinning it off into a far more complex, oriental result.

A creamy, dessert-saffron takes center stage here. But a significant clove, ginger, orange, and cinnamon combination lends it a spicy pomander feel that makes my mind wander more in the direction of Pan d’Epices and other European Christmas treats, rather than in the direction of delicate, dusty-floral Indian milk puddings.

There is rose too, and whole ladlefuls of a dark, molten honey – not sweet, but rather bitter and grown-up, like the slight edge of bitterness on a candied peel or a raisin that rescues a taste from being too sugary. There is a charming medieval feel, overall, like a rich golden tapestry hanging on a banquet hall or the taste and smell of those sticky (but dry) honey and almond cakes studded with nuts, cloves, and dried orange peel that are still popular in Siena and Pisa today, such as panforte and ricciarelli.

Cimabue is no simple gourmand, though. It’s a fully-fledged oriental. It’s as if the simple, gourmandy custard of Safran Troublant got dipped into the clove-studded orange and booze of Chanel’s Coco, rubbed in the spicy velvet of Opium, and rolled around in the ambery dust of Fendi’s Theorema, and emerged twelve hours later all the better and wiser for it. It’s the pomander-cross-spice gourmand I had hoped Noir Epices by Frederic Malle would be (but wasn’t). And best of all, it features my favorite note – saffron – in perhaps by favorite guise, that of a sweet, creamy, exotic dessert saffron.

I own two bottles of Safran Troublant, because I love it mindlessly and wear it as a simple comfort scent. But Cimabue is a step forward in the perfume evolutionary chain, and as a piece of art, I prefer it.

Cimabue, by the way, was the Italian artist famous for breaking with the flat Italo-Byzantine style of painting icons and frescos in pre-Renaissance Italy by introducing more naturalistic, true-to-life proportions of figures and shading. And I like to think that the name of this fragrance was deliberate. Because Cimabue takes the basic model of Safran Troublant, animates it subtly with shadows and highlights, and renders it in living, breathing, 3-dimensional form.

It doesn’t make me love Safran Troublant any less, but it is only when I wear its more evolved descendant that I become aware of the progenitor’s serene flatness.
07th October, 2015

Peety by O'Driù

This fragrance famously comes 49ml to the bottle, with the final 1ml to be topped up using a drop or two of one’s own urine. I only had a small sample vial, though. I gave it my best shot, logistics not being my strong point and all, but there I was, crouched furtively over the small vial when the horrid thought occurred to me: WHAT IF THE PERSON WHO GAVE ME THE SAMPLE ALREADY PEED IN IT?

I thought quickly – who had given me the sample? Ah, that’s right – Colin Maillard. So off I waddled to my computer, my panties around my knees, and past the living room, where my husband looked up from his newspaper and called out mildly, “Everything alright, dear?”

Colin had not, it turns out, adulterated the sample. I was free to pee. But in the end, I chose not to. I’d like to say it was logistics, but really, I am a wuss.

So what does Peety smell like?

Surprising (to me). I don’t know why but I had expected something comforting and stodgy, like a piece of marmalade pudding with custard on a cold day. It’s something about the listed notes that made me think that – tobacco, tonka, honey, oranges. I had been imagining Tobacco Vanille mixed with a little bit of Absolue Pour Le Soir and rounded off with a touch of Feve Delicieuse (or Pure Havane).

No such thing – this is the opposite of comfort. This is startling. Uncomfortable even. In a good, on-the-edge-of-your-seat way.

The first whiff corresponded with the notions of tobacco comfort I’d nurtured: a deep waft of whiskey and tobacco and even hay, and there I was with a grin on my face and getting ready to sit back and enjoy the ride.

But then in rode this wave of licorice-like herbs and citrus fruits, all drenched in this dark, bitter honey with a deep piss-like nuance to it. Bitter oranges and lemons might indeed explain some of the sharpness, but here the citrus is not fresh. It smells like a cross between a bunch of dried herbs and a lemon, like lemongrass or singed lime peel. The herb-citrus mélange covers the fragrance with a deep medicinal gloom that seems almost black to me, like viewing a pile of luridly-hued fruits under a thick brown preserving glaze in a museum bell jar.

The sharp atmosphere that this almost toxic stew of pissy-honey, civet, medicinal clove, herbs, and preserved lemons creates forms the central character of Peety – and it never quite leaves. But that is what is fascinating to me. It reminds me of something caustic you’d use to lance a boil or dress a war wound.

Actually, this sort of barbershoppy, herb-strewn, musky character is something I associate with a certain style in Italian perfumery. I have experienced the same herbs-and-citrus-on-steroids openings in many of the other O’Driu’s, including Eva Kant, and in Bogue’s Maai and Ker. There is a sort of hyper-masculine, but self-conscious retro barbershop style at play here, as if these perfumers are trying to re-imagine the traditional Italian barbershops and apothecaries they might remember from their childhood.

The style is specifically Italian to me, and although I didn’t grow up in Italy, I did live there, and I recognize the atmosphere of those old, dusty places where traditional healing remedies, tisanes, and unguents sit right next to little white boxes full of Swiss-precise modern medicines. The whole of Italy is kind of like that; this weird and charming mix of traditional superstition and ultra-modern moral mores. So when I say that parts of Peety remind me of those Ricola honey-anise throat pastilles you see at every cash register in Italy, I don’t mean that it literally smells like that but that there is a memory association there for me.

Later on, a musky tobacco accord emerges, rich and glowing. The end result, on my skin anyway, is a sort of “old leather” aroma redolent with male musk and warm, stubbly cheeks (the type on a man’s face, one hastens to add). The aura of rich male skin and musk is bolstered by a warm, almost sick-smelling castoreum, and while there is never sweetness, there is a feeling of sharp edges being rounded off and sanded down – a sleepy warmth.

Funnily enough, it is only in the very later stages, when the bitter herbs and spices have banked down a bit, that I can smell the flowers – a rose and jasmine combination that smells both sultry and medicinal. Joined with the cozy ambroxan or amber-cashmere material in the background, there is an effect there that is quite similar to Andy Tauer’s Le Maroc Pour Elle (although this is not as sweet). The dry, papery (and hyper-masculine-smelling) tobacco accord in the dry-down is a real delight. It is not fruity or sweet like other tobaccos – this is dry and leathery. Persistence is extraordinary – I could smell this on my face cloth for four days afterwards.

A fascinating experience, this perfume, and just one of those things you feel richer for having experienced. Very few moments of wide-eyed delight come about for me these days, so hats off to Angelo Pregoni for Peety.
07th October, 2015

Shangri La by Hiram Green

Oh me, oh my, you make me cry, you’re such a good-looking woman….

Can chypres be sexy? I never thought so until I fell in love with Femme. Femme is sexy with a capital S. I love both versions of Femme – the vintage one with the musky plums and oakmoss, and the current version, all sharp and woody and armpit-cuminy. But I thought that Femme was an outlier. Chypres are just too upright and stiff-backed to be sexy in that low-down, guttural-growl kind of way.

Enter Shangri-La by the British indie perfumer, Hiram Green. I admire Mr. Green’s approach to making perfume. He does it slow, releasing only two perfumes in two years – and he does it right. Named for the fictional land described in James Hilton’s novel ‘Lost Horizon’, Shangri La is his second fragrance, released in 2014 after Moon Bloom, his extremely well-received tuberose soliflore in 2013.

Shangri-La, at the risk of being painfully literal here, is indeed a Shangri-La for the chypre lover. It restores my faith in the belief that modern perfumery can still turn out perfumes that rival the old greats from the past, and perhaps even surpass them now and then. Shangri-La does not surpass Femme or Mitsouko for me, but it was and is a beautiful surprise that evokes strong emotion in me.

It is also pretty sexy, in a carefully-contained way.

It opens with the traditional chypre sally – a bitter, bracing bergamot – except here it feels more lemony and sparkling than the Mitsouko bergamot, which has an aged, darkened feel to it no matter the iteration or vintage. A wave of champagne-like bergamot, then, to usher in a velvet heart of peach, rose, and iris, held aloft by a bed of what smells like real oakmoss.

The peach and spices develop into a sticky compote that darkens and thickens with time – part jammy fruit, part leathery peach skin. It smells delicious – not fully gourmand thanks to the bitter facets of the iris, bergamot, lemon, and moss – but also not as forbidding and dusty as Mitsouko.

Beyond the peach and the lemon, Shangri-La is actually all about the jasmine for me. I wore it to bed one night and woke up in the middle of the night surrounded by the unmistakable, creamy scent of night-flowering jasmine petals.

Bubbling just underneath the skin of this peach and jasmine combo is something enticingly dirty-sexy and musky. Could it be a touch of castoreum, perhaps, or a not-so-clean musk? The mystery note is not explained, although I am sure it is not civet, because the dirtiness is warm and round, not sharp or urinous. Possibly it’s the jasmine, although I don’t think the more indolic Sambac jasmine has been used here – there’s a smooth fruitiness that suggests jasmine grandiflorum.

Either way, the overall effect is of a deep, sensual fruity-floral chypre that does indeed feel like a true chypre from top to bottom, but also has a welcome sexiness to it that would make me want to wear it in more relaxed situations than would normally call for a more uptight chypre.

It’s on my hit list, for sure.
07th October, 2015

Panama 1924 : Daytona by Boellis

A guilty pleasure for me. Boellis is a traditional shaving/grooming brand based in Italy, finally really connected to an actual historical boutique and an actual Boellis family, the current owner being an actual skilled and renowned barber. Now, obviously this means nothing as regards of their perfume range since they are not producing the scents themselves and rather just sold the license to a production and distribution company based in Milan (Profumitalia); but at least, the brand is honest and doesn’t need to boost its image and mock customers’ intelligence with made-up nonsense. And the fragrances seem reflecting that attitude actually, since the ones I tried seemed all as much unpretentious as quite solid. Maybe unremarkably, if not mediocrely good, but still (almost) worthy the price tag if you are into non-groundbreaking, non-luxury, but nice, well-made, compelling and slightly designer-oriented stuff with a refined old school, typically “Italian” twist.

Now, Daytona is a fresh, elegant, comforting, maybe slightly dull but totally competent leafy-zesty-woody scent with a metallic fruity twist bearing quite a clear resemblance to Creed Aventus, with some key differences for me (besides the elephant in the room – the price tag). There is surely a tiny bit of that same department store feel, the dihydromicernol-driven kind of pungent-metallic-aquatic citrus-fruity note blending with dry, musky, ambroxan-infused and again quite “mainstream” crisp woods; but there’s no pineapple first, less cassis-driven fruitiness, and there’s more musky smokiness with a cozy minty-lavender accent and some more nondescript “grassy” feel, which seems connecting Daytona more tightly to the old school aromatic-green fougères tradition, making it smell a bit more barbershop-oriented, more distinguished and more mature than Aventus. And overall, aside from the notes, Daytona smells also more breezy, more smooth, and surprisingly more natural than that in my opinion. Still that’s the ballpark, so nothing really new; but if you feel something like that (like Aventus I mean, or in broader terms, like a safe and tame enough contemporary aromatic fougère balancing “charme” and a “crowd-pleasing” attitude with a really good persistence and projection combo) is missing from your wardrobe... then Daytona would make a really classy and quality choice, with a decent value for the price.

07th October, 2015