A Bit Musty
There is a musty note in the first couple of hours into wearing this that I don't care for, but this is quite nice once that disappears. The price is great, so well worth a try. Just didn't quite make the cut for a FB for me.
Pros: Develops in an interesting way
Cons: A Bit Musty
In general I like classic French masculines of this ilk. However, this particular combination of honey, civet, citrus and musk smells very urinous. It's a bit too realistic, on my skin anyway, for it to pass muster as an enjoyable fragrance. I think the honey tips it over the edge, from 'old-fashioned' to just 'old'. Bah.
I received a vial sample from a fellow Bner in a swap as an "extra." I used a small dab to get a sense of it. I often do this to make sure it will not nauseate me if I were to apply it the way I usually do with my fragrances. It came across to me as an attempt to make a scented candle with a heavy fruit smell to it. Basically, there is a waxy candle smell with a non-specific fruit smell. I don't find this pleasant, so I never did a full wearing. There did seem to be a "synthetic" quality to it, which I often sense in these older fragrances. Those used to more recent fragrances might find this too strong and weird. So, I suggest sampling first if possible. I'll give this a neutral because I could imagine some people liking this one, due to its uniqueness.
The Baron de Charlus once told me: 'The odd thing is that I agree with nearly all estimates of Rochas' Moustache - which must tell us something about its strangeness. As the admirable Senor Cavs puts it, this "rotten" powdery lemon does indeed put you in mind of something that an eccentric, even slightly mad grandmother might wear. Yet, as other reviewers remark more positively, it does manage also to smell fresh, classic, very French, soft, gentle, long lasting.
The excellent Comrade Trotsky has discovered in it "a rather rustic aromatic scent that contains somewhat clashing notes of rare fruits and pine". The estimable Vicompte de K. has described it as his "number one weird fragrance" and I concur.
Like those very different scents by Rochas, Macassar and Globe, Moustache somehow manages to be offputting and fascinating at the same time. This paradox is something that the House of Rochas does rather well in its classic masculine fragrances - it is even true of the less eccentric but herby and distinctive Monsieur Rochas.
Moustache is an odd scent, oddly offensive and oddly addictive, but well worth investigating by fragrance aficionados. The scenario: an attic apartment in old Paris where curious loves, mysteries and scandals surround the degenerate scion of an ancient and noble line. It is effete, weird, decadent, distinguished - a somewhat sickly dandy, perhaps, but with attitude, edge and seductive menace nonetheless.'