Total Reviews: 11
This forms a strong accord, with complexity spilling out from the edges. Something prominent in the main accord is off for my tastes, but it has character.
I blind bought a sample of this because of all evil references in most of the reviews on Basenotes.
This smells like everything from 1970-1980 all mixed together. Surprisingly, it wasn’t as scary as I imagined and was slightly let down. I wanted a TOTALLY obnoxious scent, stronger than gasoline but, I didn’t get it.
I describe this like an old dusty bottle of POLO, burning in hell, sprinkled with baby powder. The dry down was actually pleasant, but not worthy of a regular rotation for me.
Unfortunately, it does contain the ‘grandpa’ note, that is to say, if your grandpa is CHUCK NORRIS.
You never have to smell this with your nose close to your wrist and then judge by this. Give it some space, some distance to pass by. It's the artsy cousin of Heritage and Zino and the wise uncle of Obsession. It's the grandfather of Tar and Garage with a spicy romantic heart. You can find him in his basement at night painting still pictures of flowers, using motor oil and burnt rubber for his art. He smells of darkness and cinnamon and he's aware of his weirdness. His nature is not actually of an animal: more like your surreal image of a dream fantastic creature. 20 years later, still not the coolest guy. Yet unlike Zino and Heritage, this one still deserves a talk now and then.
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Here's an updated version of my review for Dali PH:
An outstanding concoction that's dark and austere, and improbably sensual at the same time. Appealing and slightly off-putting like a bizarre sex rite one's attracted to immensely yet in the end fails to participate in. Celestial and, erm . . . fecal in equal measures. INSPIRED. Unique.
3,5/5 stars in my book.
And yet . . . I'm not sure it's for me.
Salvador Dali pour Homme is the first fragrance I have ever tried that has made me recoil in discomfort, and made me want to immediately scrub it off. Within a few seconds of application a hot animalic note smothered and overwhelmed me. The feeling was something like claustrophobia (as if I was trapped within this smell), and I had to will myself to calm down and not head straight for the bathroom.
I don’t know what the hot animalic note is, but I can try to describe it. Other reviewers have suggested that it is a lot of castoreum, and it may well be, but it is the heat that gets me and that I want to try to describe. Imagine the smell of a pan on a hot stove with nothing in it starting to glow red; now add the smell of air above hot tarmac on a sweltering day; and now add the smell of the blast of heat that comes out of an old tin shed when you open the door on a stiflingly hot day. The hot note is pervasive, and warps the animalic note far away from any civet, musk, or castoreum note I have smelled up until now.
Within a minute of application, and after calming myself down, I began to smell some other things. The basil and sage come across as a kind of dewy greenness, which provides a strangely captivating counterpoint to the hot animalic note. The contrast between the hot animalic note and the dewy greenness is interesting and somehow calming.
The arrival of the jasmine and lily of the valley add sweetness and depth to the dewy greenness, and at this point SDpH becomes wearable for me. Don’t smell your wrist directly at this point, or the hot animalic note will overwhelm everything else that is present to be smelled.
As the woods arrive, SDpH begins to lose its dewy greenness, which is a bad thing. The hot animalic note turns all of the woods dry and almost acrid, and it is only the sweetness from the amber and/or vanilla that gives SDpH any life in its dry down. The leather that comes through in the dry down is not just old and dry: it somehow smells like decay.
Salvador Dali pour Homme is a confronting and challenging fragrance. The opening is a shock, the middle is interesting, and the dry down is off putting. I have left it on for three testings, and I am pretty sure that there will not be a forth.
Lol this fragance is so rediculous. Its conjures up an image of a fiery demonic cult ceremony. Very dark, and actually to be quite honest, the smell combined with the bottle are scary to me. The fragrance is totally unique to me and very interesting as most famous painters are. But in the end, its as wearable as Joop!, wait.... its less than Joop! (aka keep it at home).
Every time I put this on I think that this time it will click. It will have finally grown on me. But it never does. Oh it's interesting, always interesting but I don't want to smell it for long. Certainly not on me all day. That would sort of be like staring at those ants and melting clocks and empty seascapes in a Dali painting so long that the images started to move; and who wants that? An insane person perhaps? Or a nosferatu? But why? Why does it not work for me? I love heavy complex scents like Kouros and Opium...This is too gimmicky. Too trying to be avant-garde and heady, like one of those pretentious artistes we all knew in college who always had "problems" and chewed our ears off about them until they bled. The kind who wore a cape to Psych 101 class.
For some reason, I imagine that the werewolf in that "Werewolves of London" song would dab this scent behind his ears before going out for drinks at Trader Vics.
No, this is what "Salvador Dali" smells like: It's 1977 and Margaux Hemmingway stumbles into her bathroom at noon after a night of dancing at Studio 54. She removes her panty hose and then peels off her panties. As she's doing this, she loses her balance and knocks a 12 ounce bottle of Babe cologne off of the shelf above the toilet and it falls to the white tile floor and shatters. Still slightly drunk, she tries to navigate around the shards of glass but steps on a piece. Her foot begins to bleed and she sits on the edge of the tub with a groan. She picks up the cologne soaked panties and wraps them around her foot. Once the bleeding subsides, she tosses the panties in the hamper, where they sit for two weeks, because she has fly to Paris on the Concorde in two hours to be in Paris for Fashion Week. When she returns, the hamper smells like "Salvador Dali"; a smell she doesn't recognize but finds vaguely intriguing yet off putting. A smell she doesn't recognize because it hasn't been invented yet.
Salvador Dali pour Homme smells just like the mythical Babylonian beast, forget its name, that was supposed to be unwashed bull from the waist up and overripe persimmon from the waist down. He could neither walk nor roll and so tragically took his own life by chain-smoking and wearing too much Halston Z-14. With our modern knowledge of mythical composite creatures, I like to believe that he could now be saved. Alas, we are too late, and all we can do is write copiously and wear Salvador Dali pour Homme. Cruel isn't it?
Dead flowers on a wooden coffin covered in talcum powder.
Smells quite 80's.
This is so bad it's good.
Now, where did I put that onyx dagger and the goat I was going to sacrifice to Cthulhu?
I think this should come in EDP!
Don't ask me why, if I told you I'd have to tie you to the altar as well.
Sweet dreams . . .
17th April, 2007 (last edited: 19th June, 2009)
Odd, and slightly off-putting, but not THAT dramatic, now is it? What I smell here is mainly indolic jasmine with very dry and smoky woods. It gets dryer as it dries down (sounds redundant, huh?). The amber here is most like the amber in Ambre Canelle - not as sweet as what I normally associate with amber. In fact, Ambre Canelle has some similarities to this - indoles, jasmine, amber, and eccentricity - only in Salvador Dali, I get a lot more woods - smoky woods.