Dans Tes Bras by Editions de Parfums Frederic Malle, 2008

I should say at the outset that my reason for sampling this was to experience dusky floras expressed in a unisex scent. That, this is not, but it is incredibly good. Huge floral opening of jasmine, and I thought, heliotrope, although the latter is listed as a base note. I wish I detected more clove. Within the first ten minutes or so, the violets attain prominence and significantly (perhaps unnecessarily) brighten the space. There is a slight suggestion of a candy shell--violet pastilles have been mentioned--throughout the opening, but this is not a candy scent. Palmolive has also been mentioned, and I have to say, I agree, but this is merely a brief detour. Dont worry about it, it fades within a half-hour or so. The drydown is something entirely different. The early stage is evocative of the way your partner smells at the end of a day at the beach: traces of salt, sea air, and non-descript lotion smelled close on the body, with perhaps a violet or two blooming a block away. Actually, its not merely evocative of this, this is literally what it smells like. Very sensual. A few hours into the drydown, the evolution continues, with the salty edge giving way to a musk that thankfully never dominates, the whole remaining subtle and discreet, yet increasing in sensuality. There has been much talk of scents that smell of sex. This may be one of those, but it is not brash or pornographic, it is soft and intimate, as the name suggests. The heliotrope is very subtle, if present at all. Others have found it overpowering, but that was not my experience. Additionally, the fungal/mushroom/bread notes are not present on me. Longevity is great. Projection and sillage are fairly low, but appropriately so. If they were stronger, it might become vulgar. Thumbs up for the closely worn beachy and nearly erotic drydown, even though I keep wondering, "do I want to smell like this, or do I want my partner to smell like this?" followed by "does a woman ever want a man to smell like this?" I am still not sure how to answer. I can only say that the fragrance is exceptionally good, irrespective of the wearer's gender. Quite a journey.

DTB is a sensual, stunning, and very high quality woody, coniferous, and musky violet and heliotrope scent that is artfully composed and aptly named. It is literally evocative of being in the arms of ones lover fresh from the shower and still naked. In other words, it smells like freshly showered skin but with a hint of natural underarm odor detectable because no deodorant has yet been applied. Nevertheless, this aromatic juxtaposition (of freshly showered skin and slight underarm odor) is very alluring to meit is real, familiar, comforting, and true to life. It is downright romantic and carnal, which seems to be a signature of Roucels work. Maurice is a master. Incidentally, I get the mushroom tone that others have mentioned, but I only get it in the opening. Besides, I actually like it. Further, like "nthny" below, I too get the green Palmolive associations, but mostly in the very beginning. In fact, in addition to mushroom and green Palmolive, I also get Choward's Violet Mints in the opening. Projection, sillage, and longevity are all great to excellent. As for the negative reviews, I obviously neither share in them nor am I surprised or even disappointed by them. I am unsurprised because DTB, like ISM, is high art (as someone else described), not just perfume. Sometimes, it takes time to appreciate a masterpiece like this (in fact, it admittedly did me). I am also not disappointed by the negative reviews because it will make my wearing DTB that much more unusual and special.

What an odd scent this is! ln the opening l get violets, the kind that leave a powdery taste at the back of your throat as if you'd just eaten a handful of Parma violet pastilles. This is combined with an ozonic note; as someone else here said, not like hairspray, but like a room where it has just been sprayed. Shortly after, a salty green accord emerges, rather like seaweed. At this point, l'm enjoying this crazy ride, but then... a really weird, nauseating bread dough note appears, & dominates the heart for quite some time. ls this the mushroom note mentioned by so many here? lf so, it may explain my reaction, as l hate mushrooms with a passion. After around 90 minutes, the oddness passes, & it all dries down to a faintly musky, salty skin scent, fading out four hours after application. l get no patchouli, sandalwood or incense. l really wanted to like this one, as l love the name; "ln Your Arms" sounds so warm, intimate & comforting to me. But l found Musc Ravageur to be much more what l would expect from a scent with this name. l can't bring myself to give it a negative rating however, because although it didn't work for me, it is so wonderfully weird & intriguing! As rogalal said, it is not really a perfume, more a wearable work of art. l admire it's audacity, & l will be giving it another wear just to experience the ride all over again...

Sorry, but a long-winded story: Dans Tes Bras was the first scent Basenotes ruined for me. I had just bought a bottle, my newbie nose intrigued by the extremely bright, sweet topnotes. Shortly thereafter, I chanced upon BN and couldn't resist reading the reviews for the scents I had. Bam! Someone said Dans Tes Bras smelled like mushrooms. And they were right. That weird musky smell I couldn't place? Mushrooms... Instantly, I hated it. For a couple of years, this was my most regretted purchase. Every time I tried to wear it? Yuck, mushrooms... To top it off, the extremely bright, almost fluorescent violet/lavender/aldehyde explosion in the topnotes began to strike me as too sweet and a bad pairing with the mushrooms. Then, after a while longer spent sampling everything I could get my hands on, I finally "got" Dans Tes Bras. It's a clever mash-up of a traditional Cuir de Russie (violets over leather), using a leathery, animalic cepes note (a relative of porcinis made famous in perfume by Berkeley's own Aftelier) in place of the leathery suede usually used. It's a brilliant in-joke only meant for the true aficionados, a way using a newly-discovered perfumery note to experiment with a classic formula. But that doesn't necessarily mean I like to wear Dans Tes Bras. Those candied violets are awfully loud and sweet, and I'm still not sure that I want to walk around casually smelling of mushrooms. The soapy, powdery white musk base is nice enough, but fairly common. All in all, I don't think Dans Tes Bras wants to be enjoyed. It's not even slightly friendly or cozy. Instead, it's a strange experiment, a piece of wearable art and a clever commentary on the blur between modern and classic perfumery. Would I suggest giving it a test? Sure - it's certainly interesting and a good tool for getting to recognize that cepes note, but I wouldn't rush out to make a blind buy or anything...