Djedi is a major discovery, like an archeological dig unearthing a Pharoah's tomb. I can see why bottles of this are selling for $500 and $1,000 on Ebay. There is nothing else like it.
I'm not going to tell you that it is beautiful. It is arresting. It is stunning. It is majestic. But it is not pretty. If you find "challenging" fragrances unpleasant, don't go near this one with a ten-foot pole. If you yearn for a true fragrance experience, you will be amply rewarded. Djedi leaves all the the others behind in the dust as far as the Goth factor goes.
In comparison, Voleur de Rose seems natural, like garden soil and dead-headed roses. Messe de Minuit seems familiar, like a poor, old church. Vol de Nuit seems dry and austere but pretty. L'Heure Bleu is a bit melancholy like a lonely old schoolteacher. And Mitsouko is downright tasty, all things being relative.
So, what does Djedi smell like? Why is it so compelling and sought-after? I must return to my archeological dig metaphor.
Phase One: The top note smells like dirt. It is probably vetiver and/or orris root, but it is very earthy, like shovelfulls of dense clay, full of minerals. One can imagine the door to the Pharoah's tomb opening and being surrounded by air that is thousands of years old, so--extremely--dry, not one hint of sweetness or life, only stillhess, silence, and an oppressive feeling.
Phase Two: Now comes my favorite part. It is brief, so look for it quickly. Oakmoss, some spices, a few faint florals and--powder. There it is! The Guerlain signature scent. Yes, this is a perfume--proud, dignified, and astounding. Ancient, dry, austere, and forbidding, Djedi is still meant to be worn.
Phase Three: Then it lapses into its final, lengthy phase, as captivating as the first two but long-lasting. A growing mustiness overtakes all other notes. It is heavy, sad, and decidedly animalic. It is bitter, strangely herbal, old leathery, and full of civit at it very strongest. I know people who discern civit best in the opening notes of a fragrance, not as it has been listed as a base note. I can understand why. Although civit is persistent (we all have our cat stories to prove it) it can quickly be blended into heavy florals and spices. In Djedi, there is no such coverup occurring. At this point, it smells like a big, old, haunted house, an underground tomb, some dark, dank place of great tragedy.
How do they make this perfume? Incredible.
I'm not going to tell you that it is beautiful. It is arresting. It is stunning. It is majestic. But it is not pretty. If you find "challenging" fragrances unpleasant, don't go near this one with a ten-foot pole. If you yearn for a true fragrance experience, you will be amply rewarded. Djedi leaves all the the others behind in the dust as far as the Goth factor goes.
In comparison, Voleur de Rose seems natural, like garden soil and dead-headed roses. Messe de Minuit seems familiar, like a poor, old church. Vol de Nuit seems dry and austere but pretty. L'Heure Bleu is a bit melancholy like a lonely old schoolteacher. And Mitsouko is downright tasty, all things being relative.
So, what does Djedi smell like? Why is it so compelling and sought-after? I must return to my archeological dig metaphor.
Phase One: The top note smells like dirt. It is probably vetiver and/or orris root, but it is very earthy, like shovelfulls of dense clay, full of minerals. One can imagine the door to the Pharoah's tomb opening and being surrounded by air that is thousands of years old, so--extremely--dry, not one hint of sweetness or life, only stillhess, silence, and an oppressive feeling.
Phase Two: Now comes my favorite part. It is brief, so look for it quickly. Oakmoss, some spices, a few faint florals and--powder. There it is! The Guerlain signature scent. Yes, this is a perfume--proud, dignified, and astounding. Ancient, dry, austere, and forbidding, Djedi is still meant to be worn.
Phase Three: Then it lapses into its final, lengthy phase, as captivating as the first two but long-lasting. A growing mustiness overtakes all other notes. It is heavy, sad, and decidedly animalic. It is bitter, strangely herbal, old leathery, and full of civit at it very strongest. I know people who discern civit best in the opening notes of a fragrance, not as it has been listed as a base note. I can understand why. Although civit is persistent (we all have our cat stories to prove it) it can quickly be blended into heavy florals and spices. In Djedi, there is no such coverup occurring. At this point, it smells like a big, old, haunted house, an underground tomb, some dark, dank place of great tragedy.
How do they make this perfume? Incredible.
But it is shockingly expensive for a sample.
You are truly generous!!!!
But I do know that over in the men's forum, there are some guys his age that do get it, so there's hope for dimples-junior yet. Ooops, hope he doesn't read this forum. 
