Pluran wrote not long ago that too many of us review scents before we’re well enough acquainted with them, and I stand guilty of so doing in a number of my early reviews. There's been talk from time to time of being able to revise reviews in the directory, but Grant has so much on his hands right now that I’d never wish any more work on him.
In the meantime, I have a few critical hats to eat, and I thought I’d sit down and tuck into them here. Please feel free to join this thread if you too want to make a guilty plea!
Muscs Koublai Khan:
It took a long time before I learned to love Muscs Koublai Khan, but since my first review here I’ve developed quite a taste for all things animal. The trick for me with this scent is to use it very sparingly. Applied lightly, Muscs Koublai Khan becomes a subtle accentuation of my natural skin scent, plus a mild floral overtone. Used in excess (more than one or two dabs) it’s a room-emptying stench of the unwashed!
Iris Bleu Gris:
Me culpa! The sheer potency of Iris Bleu Gris’s iris note led me to dismiss this beauty for the longest time, but having tried many other iris scents since, I’ve come to value its uncompromising purity. This is iris with a bite, complemented by a lovely mossy drydown. Iris Bleu Gris blows away the overrated Dior Homme (see below), and is worthy to stand at the top of the iris heap, alongside the very different Iris Poudre and Iris Silver Mist.
Dia:
Dia remains among my favorite fragrances: it’s civilized, sophisticated, subtle and extremely versatile. It’s also long-lasting, with a complex development and an intoxicating drydown. When I first wore and reviewed Dia, I was most impressed by its delicate floral heart, but after long acquaintance I now understand Dia as a gentle, nuanced incense fragrance. Peony and plum may dominate for the first hour or two of wear, but it’s frankincense and a velvety labdanum (leather) that carry the following eight. Though the two have little content in common, Dia leaves me with the same suave impression as Boucheron’s Jaipur Homme EdT. Not a jeans and T-shirt scent, but something that helps make me feel “put-together” and well-finished.
Santal Noble:
I had a very hard time getting past what smelled to me like an unlisted coconut note at the heart of Santal Noble, but once I did I joined the ranks of its many fans. Yes, there’s a point in the development that reminds me of suntan lotion (very expensive suntan lotion at that,) but there’s so much else going on here that I feel foolish to have ever complained. I have yet to find a sandalwood scent to beat, or even match Santal Noble on me. This fragrance leaves all the others that I’ve tried feeling too sweet, too thin, or too stuffy.
One interesting observation: I had never understood why Michael Edwards listed Santal Noble as a chypre. Never, that is, until I wore a very heavy application on a warm day. Suddenly the mossy notes in the base bloomed in a huge burst, and I’ve found myself keenly aware of them ever since.
Ambre Sultan:
Getting past Ambre Sultan’s discordant top notes is not easy, and if the fragrance didn’t last so long on me or dry down so exquisitely I may never have managed. Weird bay leaf and oregano top notes aside, I can’t yet name another amber scent that outshines Ambre Sultan’s intense animal sensuality. Maitre Parfumeur et Gantier’s Ambre Precieux and Costume National’s Scent Intense may match it in depth and quality, but no others that I know come close. Blue Amber, L’Eau d’Ambre, Ambre Extreme, and Hermessence Ambre Narguile are all too tame for me; Montale’s Aoud Ambre is woefully out of balance on my skin; Idole de Lubin and Ambre Rousse blend their potent amber notes with booze and leather, which places them somewhere else entirely. Ambre Sultan stands as an exemplary expression of a challenging note.
Black Aoud:
My error when first evaluating Black Aoud was to mistake the world’s most delayed drydown for linearity. I have to wear Black Aoud for 8 to 12 (!) hours before its bold rose and oudh heart begins to evolve in any meaningful way. Once it does, I smell a panoply of rich patchouli, creamy sandalwood, and tarry leather roiling above the persistent oudh. Is it worth the wait? You bet! Black Aoud’s appeal for me resides in its brooding quality and in the blunt savagery of its central accord. I think of Black Aoud as an “alpha male” scent and wear it when I’m feeling standoffish, or when I want to project power and authority.
Daim Blond:
Very rarely in revisiting a fragrance do I lose regard for it, but Daim Blond has pleased me less and less with every sampling. What I object to is the very sweet apricot note, which for me overwhelms all other aspects of the scent and turns Daim Blond into an olfactory dessert. Not the exotic spiced dessert served up by other Lutens scents like Arabie, Chergui, Rousse, or Datura Noir, but a simpler, more two-dimensional fruit and syrup accord that gets me thinking of a cheap grocery store cupcake. I wonder if different skin than mine would better accentuate the gentle leather in Daim Blond and give more depth and balance, but I won’t likely make the effort to find out.
Some scathing reviews of well-regarded scents that I still stand by:
Amouage Gold (cat pee on grandma's rug)
Timbuktu (charred dung of savanna beasts)
Miel de Bois (revenge of the killer bees)
Secretions Magnifiques (mine smells better)
Voleur de Roses (dope and an old hippie's armpits)
A*Men (drowning in Hershey's syrup)
Dior Homme (iris, even iris for men, has been done lots better)
In the meantime, I have a few critical hats to eat, and I thought I’d sit down and tuck into them here. Please feel free to join this thread if you too want to make a guilty plea!
Muscs Koublai Khan:
It took a long time before I learned to love Muscs Koublai Khan, but since my first review here I’ve developed quite a taste for all things animal. The trick for me with this scent is to use it very sparingly. Applied lightly, Muscs Koublai Khan becomes a subtle accentuation of my natural skin scent, plus a mild floral overtone. Used in excess (more than one or two dabs) it’s a room-emptying stench of the unwashed!
Iris Bleu Gris:
Me culpa! The sheer potency of Iris Bleu Gris’s iris note led me to dismiss this beauty for the longest time, but having tried many other iris scents since, I’ve come to value its uncompromising purity. This is iris with a bite, complemented by a lovely mossy drydown. Iris Bleu Gris blows away the overrated Dior Homme (see below), and is worthy to stand at the top of the iris heap, alongside the very different Iris Poudre and Iris Silver Mist.
Dia:
Dia remains among my favorite fragrances: it’s civilized, sophisticated, subtle and extremely versatile. It’s also long-lasting, with a complex development and an intoxicating drydown. When I first wore and reviewed Dia, I was most impressed by its delicate floral heart, but after long acquaintance I now understand Dia as a gentle, nuanced incense fragrance. Peony and plum may dominate for the first hour or two of wear, but it’s frankincense and a velvety labdanum (leather) that carry the following eight. Though the two have little content in common, Dia leaves me with the same suave impression as Boucheron’s Jaipur Homme EdT. Not a jeans and T-shirt scent, but something that helps make me feel “put-together” and well-finished.
Santal Noble:
I had a very hard time getting past what smelled to me like an unlisted coconut note at the heart of Santal Noble, but once I did I joined the ranks of its many fans. Yes, there’s a point in the development that reminds me of suntan lotion (very expensive suntan lotion at that,) but there’s so much else going on here that I feel foolish to have ever complained. I have yet to find a sandalwood scent to beat, or even match Santal Noble on me. This fragrance leaves all the others that I’ve tried feeling too sweet, too thin, or too stuffy.
One interesting observation: I had never understood why Michael Edwards listed Santal Noble as a chypre. Never, that is, until I wore a very heavy application on a warm day. Suddenly the mossy notes in the base bloomed in a huge burst, and I’ve found myself keenly aware of them ever since.
Ambre Sultan:
Getting past Ambre Sultan’s discordant top notes is not easy, and if the fragrance didn’t last so long on me or dry down so exquisitely I may never have managed. Weird bay leaf and oregano top notes aside, I can’t yet name another amber scent that outshines Ambre Sultan’s intense animal sensuality. Maitre Parfumeur et Gantier’s Ambre Precieux and Costume National’s Scent Intense may match it in depth and quality, but no others that I know come close. Blue Amber, L’Eau d’Ambre, Ambre Extreme, and Hermessence Ambre Narguile are all too tame for me; Montale’s Aoud Ambre is woefully out of balance on my skin; Idole de Lubin and Ambre Rousse blend their potent amber notes with booze and leather, which places them somewhere else entirely. Ambre Sultan stands as an exemplary expression of a challenging note.
Black Aoud:
My error when first evaluating Black Aoud was to mistake the world’s most delayed drydown for linearity. I have to wear Black Aoud for 8 to 12 (!) hours before its bold rose and oudh heart begins to evolve in any meaningful way. Once it does, I smell a panoply of rich patchouli, creamy sandalwood, and tarry leather roiling above the persistent oudh. Is it worth the wait? You bet! Black Aoud’s appeal for me resides in its brooding quality and in the blunt savagery of its central accord. I think of Black Aoud as an “alpha male” scent and wear it when I’m feeling standoffish, or when I want to project power and authority.
Daim Blond:
Very rarely in revisiting a fragrance do I lose regard for it, but Daim Blond has pleased me less and less with every sampling. What I object to is the very sweet apricot note, which for me overwhelms all other aspects of the scent and turns Daim Blond into an olfactory dessert. Not the exotic spiced dessert served up by other Lutens scents like Arabie, Chergui, Rousse, or Datura Noir, but a simpler, more two-dimensional fruit and syrup accord that gets me thinking of a cheap grocery store cupcake. I wonder if different skin than mine would better accentuate the gentle leather in Daim Blond and give more depth and balance, but I won’t likely make the effort to find out.
Some scathing reviews of well-regarded scents that I still stand by:
Amouage Gold (cat pee on grandma's rug)
Timbuktu (charred dung of savanna beasts)
Miel de Bois (revenge of the killer bees)
Secretions Magnifiques (mine smells better)
Voleur de Roses (dope and an old hippie's armpits)
A*Men (drowning in Hershey's syrup)
Dior Homme (iris, even iris for men, has been done lots better)
