Fragrance Reviews by purplebird7

Princess Jelisaveta apparently is a real-life Yugoslavian princess, and she made this first perfume, E, in cooperation with Sopha Grojsman--whicy qualifies as pretty impressive credentials. It is listed as a floral, but it comes across as more of an Oriental to me, something akin to Bond No. 9 Chinatown. The notes are: citrus, lily, jasmine, hyacinth, orange blossom, white iris, woods, and musk. Predominant are the jasmine and orange blossom, making this sweet and fruity, but the woody base gives it depth and character. Most florals strike me as light and airy, but this one is decidedly thick and warm. There is a vague "nutty" aroma about it that reminds me of one certain aspect of Chinatown. The fragrance ends powdery, but it still retains that deep, nutty sweetness. I found this enjoyable.

A galbanum-free green fragrance which is tangy and strong. I'm a fan of galbanum, so this is not my first choice when I reach for the "greens." That huge, musty, earthy, somewhat bitter green note which plays a prominent role in Miss Dior and Chanel No.19 (and also in Ayalitta by Ayala Moriel) is my favorite green because it blends well with florals and Chypres. However, If you dislike galbanum, you should give Nanadebary Green a try. It is tart with the scent of lemon verbena and vetiver, aromatic with thyme, and spicy with cardamom. Don't look for much softness or sweetness, overall it is quite pungent and projects well. It smells like an armful of zesty, fresh-picked garden herbs and grasses.

It went on in a bold manner, with lots of long-lasting topnotes that were citrusy and—fizzy. Yes, they bubbled, like effervescence. Eau Premiere, in this stage, was like peach Zotz. After awhile, I started to year for the warm, plastic softness of original No. 5, and although I found this amusing, my favorite part was the drydown, which more closely resembled the old fragrance. I can see why the aldehydes were reduced, as the original does improve as they disappear during wearing. But more was done to this version than remove the aldehydes. The entire fragrance was made a bit fruitier and less abstract, more likeable by today’s standards.

Freesia is a cool note. Hawthorne, I don't know. I thought it would be green, but it's really another cool floral. Frangipani is a sweet tropical flower that is also spicy and fruity, and I can smell that acocord in here. Altogether, Beige gives me an impression of spring florals. It has the scent of those lovely, fresh, waxy flowers that grow from bulbs. As it dries down, it remains rather linear, with pronounced, tangy spring flowers. In my mind, it does not portray the color beige, but the attitude. This perfume is elegant but young, certainly more so than many classic Chanels. It doesn't break conventions, so the name is apt. Rather, it is something new without being unusual. I don't wear this type of fragrance often, and when I do, I choose Chamade or Jacinthe des Bois.

Interesting, it comes off as kind of a gourmand to me, not much about leather. This smells strongly of candied fruit. It is listed as orange, but it's more like marachino cherry. Plus, I get a strong, sweet amaretto accord, that is even a bit boozy.

Hmmm. I wonder if I got the right sample in that vial. This was primarliy a citrus and orange blossom fragrance, possibly with some coconut. It was a sweet-sour floral. No leather was in there. Seemed mundane.

Not terribly impressed. The description was lovely--an attempt to capture the rose when it is closed as a bud, when it first opens, and when it is at full bloom.
I was disappointed that the rosewood doesn't come through for me. I love rosewood as an ingredient. Overall I get a rose accord with an indistinct lemon and raspberry aspect softened by a little vanilla or chocolate. I think it is better to buy a few different rose scents from Les Parfums de Rosine to get a tour of the variety in rose accords.

I wanted so much more out of this list combination of notes. I love galbanum and hay, and they should go well with tobacco. The amber and musk should finish it off with sweet powderiness. But no, that was not the case. All I could smell was slightly sour greens over a sheer musk.

Weird, incongruous notes. Fine if you're looking for something strange, but otherwise go for somehthing more conventional. Coffee and chocolate, fine, add pepper--not fine anymore. Ditto pimento. Just plain strange.

This fragrance is sour in an unbecoming way. If it were clearly a citrus scent, that aspect would be appropriate, but this is not really about citrus even though it contains a good deal of lemon. The lemon is paired with pepper, a note that I think is overused. This pairing leans toward dry and sharp, and the addition of cedar pushes it further in that direction. The result was nothing that I would spray all over myself.

I don't like this much. It smells like a bitter lime, a dry frankincense, and a sour vetiver. The spices impart no sweetness, either. In all, it is dry and unflattering from my viewpoint. I give it respect for uniqueness, but I don't feel drawn to it, either as a feminine perfume or as an atmospheric fragrance.

It's different, I'll say that. Contentwise, it doesn't hold much interest for me. The whole fragrance seems to be an exercise in airiness. The mint is the dominant note. It is layered over open, ozonic notes and what I can only describe as faint, dry florals. It may even be a bit salty or marine. At any rate, it's unique and should be tried; but it will be clear to you immediately if this is your genre or not.

Tuberose, and lots of it, tempered by an accompaning rubber aroma. Green jasmine shoots seem to be an accord that resembles a rather sharp and piercing version of jasmine. Added to that is a sugar cane accord, which adds to the sweetness. Not in the least bit subtle. Too "too" for me.

This was a very sweet, very fruity perfume, which is probably targeted at young women. The osmanthus accord is nothing more than peach, bolstered by tangerine. Really it is not floral, as osmanthus is. Plus there is a note called "honey balm" imparting extra sweetness.

The main notes that I get from Iris Taiso are cardamom, orris and honey. It is spicy and powdery, and there is some kind of fruit accord, also. It is a primarily floral and has just the right amount of sweetness.

A fruity, powdery lilac. This fragrance features a lilac accord with supporting notes of mandarin orange and peach. It has enough iris and musk to give it a powdery finish. A feminine, youthful version of an old-fashioned flower.

This should be mentioned as a good lemon cologne. It is very fresh, and strong upon application, although I cannot attest to the longevity. The notes are primarily lemon, orange, and tangerine, and there is nothing else to interfere with their clarity, no vanilla, musk, amber, or wood lurking in the base. Only a clear citrus fragrance is imparted.

This is one of my favorites of the Parfumrie Generale line along with L'Oiseau de Nuit (Night Bird), a sweet, deep, rich, somewhat leathery labdanum paired with a fruity davana flower. L'Ombre Fauvre consists of amber, wood, musk, vanilla, and a little bit of patchouli. Like one other reviewer said, "What's not to love?" And that wraps it up for my sentiments. Wrap yourself in it and feel the glow.

Opens with a sweet caramel and spice over a woody background, like resin. I get a distinct butterscotch accord. This is a gourmand fragrance that doesn't become too heavy- handed with the candy. It even has a bit of a leather charactersitic. Interesting.

I like the hyacinth, and it pairs well with the tonka. If I recall the scent of delphinium correctly, it is a bit like carnation, and that is a nice touch. I could do without the added fruitiness, though.

I like this fragrance. The first note I smelled was an attractive Saigon cinnamon, underpinned by orange. The base is sweet and delicious, due to the chocolate, and somehow it manages to stay dry and woody enough(probably due to a bit of patchouli and some tea) to keep from smelling too edible. Nice, well-balanced, and distinctive.

Orange, sweet florals, and pungent, unsweet green notes, plus a bit of a tea scent. It wanders, somehow. I'm not sure what to focus on.

Dispite the plethora of notes, I am primarily receiveing violet, galbanum, and probably vetiver. Together, they make a dusty, earthy, violet that is also fruity, which doesn't work for me.

A nice, true grapefruit scent. The mint is a good choice for a supporting note. Kind of simple, though.

This is primarily a mango tea scent for me, with some kind of nice base. It's pleasant, neither overwhelming nor terribly distinctive, and more fruity than I usually wear.

Labdanum 18 is more warm and cuddly than the smoky, cool, outdoorsy, woody, musky scents in the Le Labo line, which makes it easier for a woman to wear. This fragrance doesn't cover much new ground, being a leathery amber. Montale Blue Amber is better (and a good deal stronger, too) for the money. L'Artisan Amber Extreme is comparable. Amber Russe by Parfum d'Empire does it with a sense of humor, adding booze into the amber and leather mix. Anyway, it's fine, but try alongside the others mentioned here.

Strange scent. Prominent violet and earthy iris, a bit powdery, very cool. This an austere fragrance with a cold, rich, woody violet. It is well constructed and fascinating, but I generally prefer my fragrances warmer. (This proclamation is coming from someone who loves Chanel No. 19, so you can imagine how cool Iris 38 is.) In the final analysis, like a character in a vintage cartoon once said, "It just dooooooon't send me."

I’m a die-hard patchouli lover, but I don’t like the interference of the smoky note in here. Paired with a slightly sweet base, I find the juxtaposition of acrid and syrupy to be off-putting. The patchouli is subordinate, the sweetness buzzes around like bee that has lost it’s hive, and everything submits a billowing cloud of smoke.

Its a masculine vetiver, bracing--with notes of pepper and cedar, outdoorsy--with smoky vetiver, and fairly animalic like all of the Le Labo scents I have tried so far. The "plainness" of the vetiver is great. I don't like my vetiver converted into a sweet fragrance, but I prefer my vetivers to be softer. Great on a man, but not for me.

Very expensive for a vanilla fragrance. Nice, but not $500 a bottle nice. That's all I have to say.

This was recommended to me as a substitute for Aramis, but I still like Aramis better. Devin also resembles Yatagan with its strong pine, moss, and leather notes. Yet I like Yatagan better. So, it's really a middle-of-the-road scent surpassed by those two others, in my opinion. Rather dry, clean and evergreen, Devin is distinctive because there aren't many in its genre nowadays. I'm okay with it, but not overly enthused.

This one is too incongruous for me. I love natural orris root butter, which smells like carrots. It goes well with green notes and florals, but not fruits. In this perfume, there is a strong apricot/osmanthus note. The rootiness of the carrot is musty, and the fruitiness of the apricot is fresh and sweet, so it gets pulled in two opposing directions: musty and sweet, which displeases me. Yes it is a unique scent, but I prefer the iris in Serge Lutens Iris Silver Mist, The Different Company Bois de Iris, or even Chanel No. 19 or 28 La Pausa.

Wow, they say this has 68 ingredients? I can’t smell most of them, and then end result is rather common citrus and herbs with one difference—among the grapefruit and thyme is a heavenly heliotrope. Nice, but not remarkable enough to replace something like Jicky. And if I wanted heliotrope, I'd get something that showcased it better.

Crack the whip, feel the bite of sharp bitter leather. This is a policeman’s shiny, black, leather shoes. Decidedly manly. I could see this as rugged and sexy on a man, but on a woman, it’s going to come across as kinky. High marks for being unique in this day and age, but a neutral rating because I’m not sure how it would wear in reality. I have no volunteers to demonstrate, and it’s a bit harsh on me.

More atmospheric than perfume, I would prefer this as a room spray. It's very dry and sharp with no sweetness. Aromatic woods such as camphor, turpentine, cedar, and pine combine with unsweet herbs like thyme and rooty vetiver to make a realistic "branch of evergreen" aroma. It's fun. It doesn't last long. I like it as an experience, but I probably wouldn't wear it.

An attempt at a vetiver without lemon, choosing instead a strong cedar note, which results in an admirable attempt at something different from the usual citrus combo. However, it was a bit thin and dry.

In my book this is good, but not great, vetiver. Since I have cultivated a taste for the rooty, natural scent of vetiver, I don’t tolerate many supporting notes, preferring it sans adornments. Here it is combined with lemon and nutmeg, two very common choices. There are some sweet notes that I do not recognize, but the entirety leans toward masculine, barbershop territory. Not what I’m looking for, but it’s perfectly decent for the menfolk. Guerlain Vetiver for men somehow avoids the cliche aroma dispite using the same supporting notes, which must have been applied more lightly, leaving a "plain" vetiver note dominant. It remains my favorite, along with Frederic Malle Vetiver Extraordinaire, which is even more rooty.

Billed as a powdery floral, I will agree that it is so, with a difference—China White has a dusty, dry, green powder over sweet, fruity florals. The combination is both jarring and interesting. While the powder is tart and salty, the florals are as sweet as caramel. This powdery chemical is close to providing a leather scent. All in all, it is odd and fascinating.

I don’t smell any wormwood in here. The company gives absolutely no information on notes, only saying that this perfume intends to “invoke degrees of hysteria” and “stimulate irresponsible behavior.” Call me crazy, but this is almost gourmand to me--creamy and fruity. I smell a tart apple dipped in milky caramel and rolled in crushed peanuts. Come to think of it, that is enough to drive me to hysteria. It’s fall, and it’s “Happy Apple” time

A bitter leather opening fades quickly away to a deep, sweet (yes, it's sweet to me) woody scent with oud, sandalwood, and some nice patchouli and musk. Duro is designed for men, and the Italian word is slang for hard-on; yet, I find it more wearable for women than the dry, bitter genre of other masculine leather fragrances. Duro is big, wet, and warm, like… oh, heh, heh. Sorry about that analogy.

A high-octane grassy-woody scent, fired by a minty-herbal concoction and a big hit of patchouli. One component is similar to the diffusive, green, woody aroma of Timbuktu. Possibly some nice anise-like aroma is floating around in there, maybe some marijuana, too. Although I cannot call it classically beautiful, Hindu Grass is pleasing, and I find myself drawn to it. Oddly attractive and satisfying.

The first part of this fragrance is decidedly masculine because of way the herbal notes of lavendar and rosemary combine with the sweetness. It has a classic barbershop aroma. Before I regarded it as an exclusively masculine scent, it turned into a sweet, spicy sandalwood. There are still hints of herbals, but the cinnamon and vanilla make the drydown unisex and almost candylike. I love sandalwood in all its many forms. Although I favor the woody variety, this one is fine for a creamy, ultra-sweet fix.

I am impressed. This is elegant and classy. Moreover, as a woman Chypre lover, I would wear it. What a lovely, well-balanced blend of spices and woods. Such finely tempered animalics. Gorgeous, subtle use of patchouli. Nice dry version of vetiver. Altogether, Givenchy Gentleman smells much greater than the sum of its parts. I can sympathize if some people think this stinks. Those same people probably think Yatagan stinks, too, so I forgive them. This is strange, yes, and alluring, and unique. It's not an everyday type of fragrance, but it definitely makes a statement--retro, bold, daring.

Among the range of Polos, it is one of the best, with a pronounced herbal opening along with sweet jasmine and deep earthy notes. I like its distinctiveness. It is in no way watery or wishy-washy. My other favorite is the original green bottle. I give it a neutral because it is too masculine for me, a woman.

This is a nice, sweet, feminine perfume, but I give it a neutral rating because it doesn't deliver its promise of a fig note like L'Artisan Premier Figuier or Diptyque Philosokos. For a pure, green, sappy fig note, those two fragrances are the places to go. However, if they were too dramatic and edgy for you, Aqua Allegoria Figue Iris would suit the bill. The opening is citrus, and at this point it is closer to being a grapefruit perfume than anything else. After the citrus wafts away, the fig note emerges, green and pretty, and tempered by iris. Please note that iris lovers would be better served by the likes of The Different Company Bois de Iris or Serge Lutens Iris Silver Mist with their genuine, rooty iris notes. The Guerlain iris note is the classic "powder" scent found in many women's perfumes. All in all, this is a perfumer's creative version of fig and iris, very pretty and feminine, but not the green and earthy variety that I prefer.

This perfume was sent to me by a Basenoter as a mystery, sniff-and-guess, and I thought it was a duplicate of Rochas Femme. Then she asked if it was the new or the old Femme. I puzzled over that--it had a cumin note but it was much better than the new Femme. Lo and behold, the joke's on me. It is a new perfume called The Party in Manhattan. And such a party I would like to be invited to. This fragrance takes the best parts of the old and the new Rochas Femme, adds some modern sweetness to update the original Chypre formula, and balances the elements artfully. A big plum note reveals salty cumin, but only for a short while, and then an elegant, woody, animalic base smooths everything over. It projects like crazy, and it lasts a long time. Okay, well it isn't exactly Femme: the fruit is actually listed as mandarin and there are lots of florals in here (carnation, jasmine, may rose, and ylang-ylang). Another alluring aspect is the multiple earthy, rooty, plantlike notes such as clary sage, iris, carrot, vetiver, patchouli, and oakmoss. I could blather on and on about this, but I won't. Cruelly enough, it is hard to find--my friend who sent me the sample lives in Italy. The only other stock can be found with Rojas Dove at Harrod's in London. Sorry, sorry. I wish you all could smell this. I should pass my vial around, but I'm going to be greedy and use it all by myself. Isn't that terrible? I trust you understand.

The plain Vetiver EDC is so much better and truer to the vetiver note. Plain Guerlain Vetiver is a wonderful fragrance, but it's much lighter than Vetiver Extreme, so folks might be tempted to buy this one instead. I tell you, don't. This has a bitter undertone that is very much like the "rubber" note described by other reviewers. I thought perhaps it could also be described as a leathery carnation. Any vestige of vetiver is outlasted by an extremely strong note of nutmeg.

Fie upon the note pyramid! I don't believe one word of it. This is a sweet, hot, spicy gourmand frgrance. I don't usually like gourmand fragrances, but this one I do. It is a crazy juxtaposition of ingredients: deep, sweet, rich caramel, strong chile powder, and dried fruit (maybe lychee, tamarind, or mango) and a good deal of peanuts. I let my Korean friend smell this, and the first words out of her mouth were, "That smells delicious," as in "edible." I agree. It is a strange dish, like Mexican mole, but one that keeps you coming back for more. The drydown smelled of peanut butter cookies, slightly overdone, fresh out of the oven. Please excuse me if I'm missing something, but it is neither a floral fragrance nor a patchouli one. It is a strange, unique, gourmand fragrance fully worthy of note.

Nobody ever accused Lorenzo Villoresi of being too simple. This is another big combination of surprising notes but, unlike Sandalo which smells complex, Alamut doesn't smell much like any of the notes listed. At first I thought I smelled myrrh, but later doubted my suspicion. On the whole, it comes across as a very sweet, spicy and powdery amber to me. The big, sweet opening is rather hard for me to sit through, but I love the woody, resiny base that follows and lasts for hours.

Pleasant rose with violet and nectarine, not too sweet, with a soft, feminine musk base that avoids becoming bright or powdery. I enjoyed it, but I rarely get excited about simple florals. Rose lovers, it's a nice one to try.

All I can come up with for a list of notes for this is rose, iris, and ambergris. However, I find it to be an over-the-top sweet, deep floral with huge animalic notes--actually borderline fecal, as in civit. Maybe it just has a great deal of raunchy musk. At any rate, it is an exceedingly sweet with a big dose of animalics, and it doesn't work for me. My apologies to the many who find it charming. It certainly isn't subtle.

One of the best of this newly popular genre, the peppery woods. Both men's and women's fragrances nowadays are striving for light, diffusive, exotic wood scents. To this end, they make lavish use of peppery bases interspersed with tangy vetiver or tart fruits. Any sweet notes are downplayed; and often they occur in the top and gradually fade into the background (in contrast to the traditional development which allows top and middle notes to fall away and reveal a sweet base). On the women's side, Estee Lauder has recently launced Sensuous, and YSL has offered Elle in the same spirit. Terre d'Hermes, being masculine, is unburdoned by the sweet and fruity ornamentation of the feminine offereings--and it's all the better for doing so. TDH has a better-balanced formula and doesn't try to do more than one thing at once. In the grand scheme of things, there were other, previous fragrances leading us in the direction of this genre. The first fragrance I remember with black pepper was Bulgari Omnia, but it was really all about sweet, gingerbread and sandalwood. Scents more similar to this new genre were Creed Royal Water and L'Artisan Timbuktu, which groomed us to accept the light, dry, almost astringent qualities of wood. It's a far cry form the patchouli and sandalwood of yesteryear, my friends. And it dovetails nicely with the rising popularity of veitver, which also has emerged in a starring role in fragrances. Overall, I still find vetiver to be easier on my nose. In the final analysis, I tire easily of pepper. But Terre d'Hermes ranks in the top of its new class.

This is the most elegant vetiver I have ever tried. It is bright, crisp, almost astringent compared to the earthy, smoky varieties offered elsewhere. (Guerlain must use this vetiver in a host of its fragrances, floating in the background.) The topnotes contain lemon and pepper, the middle is remniscent of frankincense in its dustiness, and I believe there may be some aromatic cedar in the formula. It is an open, clean, dry, meditative aroma. This vetiver is mellow and smells deliciously like a cellar full of wine barrels filled with a fine, dry, white wine.

I've had my Le Labo Rose 31 experience, and I'm here to say, guys, this is a manly rose fragrance--in a unique way. This is an animalic rose on the raunchy side. It has a funky musk base with a nice, smooth rose heart. It smells like a man wearing rose fragrance. In that way, it reminds me of a mild version of Muscs Kublai Kahn with roses. The only reason I give it a neutral rating is because it smells LIKE a man as much as FOR a man. Although I would enjoy smelling it on a man, I would not wear it (nor MKK) myself. If I were a man, I would give it a thumbs up. To be sure, it is not fecal like Rasa Extreme; rather, it is spicy like sweat and naughty like musk.
This is a well-balanced scent. The cumin does not bowl you over, as it did in Alexander McQueen Kingdom, and the rose is prominantly featured from beginning to end whereas, in Kingdom, it crept out of the sandalwood as a chypre rose in the final stages. Rose 31, it is fresh and real.
However, I repeat, it is animalic. Compared to Lorenzo Villoresi Musk, which is another rose and musk fragrance for men, the LV is clean, even soapy. The Le Labo smells lived-in, like a man in rose fragrance, straight from the bottle.

I love the package with its fuschia, swirly, op-art pattern, and I am attracted to its promise of a bold fragrance for free-thinking women, but Elle is not my type of scent. I love woods, but my preference is for wet woods--those with earthy, mossy, ambery supporting notes. Elle is dry and peppery wood laid over a sweet, fruity base with sour underpinnings. To me, the dominant notes are pepper, lychee, and cedar. It is hot, arid, and sweet-tart. This new genre cannot replace the old-school Chypres or the rich, floral, woody Orientals in my wardrobe. If you like this type of bold, lively scent, don't let me dissuade you. But for me, it is out of synch.

What a nice surprise it is to find an old-school green Chypre re-issued. I must assume that the formula was changed to compensate for oakmoss (and/or other) restrictions. Still, it emerges relatively unscathed. Notes are as follows:
Top: aldehydes, galbanum, peach bergamot
Middle: gardenia, jasmine, jonquil, carnation, rose, lily, orris
Base: amber, patchouli, oakmoss, myrrh, vetiver, castoreum
On the whole, I like Miss Dior better, and so I wish it the same luck with its reformulation. Givenchy III is soapier and less sweet. It opens with an unmistakable blast of galbanum plus a big slug of aldehydes. Then it moves quickly into a pleasnat spicy floral accord with peach floating overall. As it wears, it displays the delightful, drastic development of this genre, moving gradually away from sharp, green top notes toward its smooth amber base. The addition of vetiver makes the base tangy and clear, rather than sweet and full of labdanum. If Miss Dior was too heavy, earthy, and sweet for you, give the cleaner, more sparkling green Chypre of Givenchy III a try.

Eau Fraiche--the name implies citrus and herbs, right? Right. And that is exactly what I smelled upon first application. I am picky about lemon scents and prefer orange, so at this point I was unimpressed. I thought that was all it had to offer. But no, I was wrong! What came next was a surprising leather phase that was not rude and animalic but smooth and suedey, like the leather in Jolie Madame. However, no vanilla creaminess followed, as it does in Jicky. The Dior fragrance remained clear. On the whole, this fragrance was short-lived. It is remarkable because it stands out from the rest of the "fresh" genre due to that clever base. Anyone looking for a lemon scent shouldn't overlook this one. Very nice.

A classy, well-balanced amber with woody notes of lavender and myrtle. This perfume is so well-behaved on me that it blends beautifully into a warm, sweet, skin scent. It is avoids becoming overly sweet, yet it never veers too far into masculine territory with leather or herbal notes. It is wonderful for a straight amber scent—as close to being "plain" while still being complex, skillfully crafted and smooth, but quiet.

Unusual amber fragrance consisting of a mix of booze, leather, and amber in equal parts, with nuances of dusty frankincense and cinnamon. It impresses me as masculine because I have known many men who have smelled like this, ever since I was a child—men wearing sweet cologne and leather coats, men with the smell of hard liquor on their breaths. I can almost hear the clink of ice cubes in the glasses of bourbon on the rocks as I hug them. Mercifully, these men do not smoke. Maybe they carry cigars in their pockets, but they do not light them. The addition of a strong smoke note would render this fragrance trite and trashy. Instead, it is clean, warm, and boozy. Ambre Russe smells like sweet rum and animalic amber. It is cuddly but tough.

This joins the growing list of what I consider to be "atmospheric" fragrances designed to evoke a place or setting. I like to smell them, but I don't want to smell like them. Apparently there is a demand for environmental aromas in hotels and stores to strengthen memory and feelings of loyalty among customers. People are starting to enjoy man-made fragrances which create a hyper-reality, like smoky bonfires or old libraries. L'Air du Desert Morocain is a clever composition that uses a host of ingredients to deftly imitate lemony frankincense ground to a dusty powder and laid upon polished black leather. It is dry, citrusy, and bittersweet. I could experience a similar aroma by donning a leather jacket and putting my nose into a bag of olibanum. Both are equally enjoyable, but they fall short of constituting an entire perfume. As a point of reference, Messe de Minuit is deeper, more complex, and accomplishes a greater range of contrasts, although it also can be difficult to wear. For use on the skin, I still prefer softer, sweeter, more traditional, skin-compatible scents.

Instant time transport back to a different era--Habanita is an extremely nostalgic, perfumey-perfume consisting of a sweet powder and a strong tobacco accord. It is the scent of a couple, she wearing the powder and he holding the cigar, their bodies entwined on the dance floor of a nightclub in full swing. It's forceful stuff, too; not designed for the meek. My only complaint concerns the sour and bitter edge that it must wield order to avoid sliding into "ordinary" territory, making it less than enjoyable for everyday use. Perhaps I would wear it occasionally when I felt like dressing up naughty and making a statement, but Bandit already occupies that function for me. I can't say that I really like this, even though it is a marvellous work of art well worth preserving. A good experience, and I'm glad that many people find it more practical than I do.

I've got to give Estee Lauder credit for introducing a perfume that does not smell like anything typically from its line. Not that I don't like EL; I do. Some of its fragrances are among my favorites--such as my all-time woody, honeyed rose, Knowing, plus the long-lived spicy Youth Dew and green, floral, ambered Private Collection. Sensuous is a radical departure from these, as well as from the bright, soapy notes of White Linen or the clean florals of Pleasures. Sensuous is decidedly modern and spare. With fanciful notes like "molten woods" I am unable to analyze the aroma within the parameters of the traditional pyramid. Instead, I will say that it is a juxtaposition of woody, unsweet black pepper on top of a sweet, rich, fruity caramel. Together, they create an enjoyable accord but, personally, I am tired of black pepper in perfume. It seems to pop up everywhere, tempering overly sweet notes. I'll give this a neutral until further notice.

Salty, fruity, dusty, honeyed amber. There is a light, fruity note which is mildly peachy. The florals are quite spicy. And underneath it all is a woody, incensey note that gives it a dry powdey feeling. The overall effect is sweet and salty, quite Eastern. (I have some Madini Sahara that smells similar, whose listed notes are bergamot, amber, and myrrh. The Dior fragrance is more feminine and subtle.) Dune is unusual, unique, and fun.

How could I not love this fragrance? First of all, I'm a patchouli lover. (I probably will lose all credibility on my reviews for succumbing to the charms of this note every time I encounter it.)Secondly, it has just enough sweetness to take the edge off of that dark, earthy note and soften it. It's still strongly woody with a hint of peach, but more interesting and likeable than plain patchouli. Maybe I need to make a ranking system: Baseline hard, woody - Etro Patchouli. Midrange - L'Artisan Patchouli Patch. Sweet but earthy - Montale Patchouli Leaves. Sweet and fruity - Jalaine Patchouli. Sweet and a miracle of mellow creaminess - Chanel Coromandel. Jump right in and choose one; I love them all.

The mere mention of castoreum and hay in a fragrance usually portends a wild ride. Imagine my surprise after applying Osmanthus and experiencing a light, fizzy peach accord that remained true throughout its development. Very pleasant; nothing uncivilized about it. Delicious and refreshing peach fragrance, neither strongly fruity nor strongly rosey. A nice skin fragrance.

Anne Pliska looks a bit jarring at first sight; the vivid purple liquid caused me to expect strong roses, but this was not the case. In fact, this smooth, sweet, orangey-creamy scent is tempered with a mix of dusty hebs (of the oregano type) or some other "salty" note and reminds me of a more feminine Serge Lutens Ambre Sultan--yet it predates that fragrance by six years! Surprise, surprise. Anne Pliska did the sweet, dusty, salty amber first. It even has a little of that addictive Play-Doh note. No wonder this little niche beauty has maintained its cult following for decades. It is an excellent amber fragrance.

The first time I tried this, I completely missed the patchouli note--and I'm a great lover of patchouli. I had made this same mistake with Estee Lauder Knowing, a longtime personal favorite, but for a different reason. With Knowing, the patchouli was covered in honeyed roses. But with George Sand, I just didn't apply enough perfume. I revisited this fragrance and put lots on, and found a dark, harsh heart of pathouli, and there is no excuse for a hard heart in my opinion. It's still an interesting perfume, but I must downgrade my first impression.

This was my original review: Gezhundheit! A blast of black pepper which magically disappears, is replaced by a cup of Masala tea with cardamom and clove, and a gingerbread cookie shaped like a Dutch windmill, spicy but only mildly sweet. As the skin warms, a most beautiful sandalwood emerges, long-lasting but close to the skin. Delicious. Expect minimal sillage. Snuggle up and enjoy.
My new advice is to avoid perfumes with black pepper notes. They seem to "bloom" over time and overtake the other notes in the fragrance. So, unless you really like pepper, or you buy your perfume fresh and use it fast, you can't trust that note to behave.

I had to edit this review becaue I am having bad experiences with the black pepper note in perfume. It seems to me that this particular ingredient "blooms" over time, and often overtakes other notes. When I first bought my Parfum Sacre, the lemon, mace, and vanilla were dominant. It was spicy-sweet, lemony, and delicious with vanilla. Several years later, hot, woody black pepper permeates this perfume into its heart, preventing me from enjoying it until the drydown, when it finally becomes sweeter. I had a similar experience with Bulgari Omnia: my first bottle was from Sephora and was beautiful, but my second bottle was an old one from a small store, and it was unwearable. I will avoid this note in the future, as it has ruined two of my favorite perfumes. I still want to give this one a positive rating based on how it used to smell, but I can't anymore.

I'm picky about anything with a dominant lemon note, so this endorsement is a highly favorable vote. Hierbas de Ibeza is as glorious as a sunny day, as clean as morning. This citrus accord is made fresh by thyme, lavendar, sage, and verbena. It is gently sweetened by jasmine, orange blossom, and a smooth vanilla base. I'm writing these notes down from the website, but I only actually smell a single, perfectly blended lemon accord. Carry this one around as the one bottle you need to pack for your summer vacation.

I'm disappointed. This fragrance is too bitter for me, and then it recedes into nothing. And it's not because I'm afraid of galbanum. I actually own a vial of galbanum essentil oil, and it is unbelievably strong. I love galbanum. But this perfume provides one bong-hit of galbanum and, sorry, the ride's over. It moves on to a blast of bitter, salty herbs with some weak citrus in the background. The strength is gone, a washed-out green herbal accord remains. Honestly, I get more pleasure out of smelling straight galbanum.

I puzzled over this one. It doesn't seem to focus on me. It starts with an old-fashioned light, floral accord, like a bouquet, then it adds a sharp, almost salty tang like Caron Alpona, and then it mellows out into a skin scent that is interesting but neither earthy nor animalic, like others have reported. It is underwhelming. I do better with a more distinctly defined fragrance.

A very nice lemon-herbal fragrance. Nothing too exciting in my book, as I prefer to go either creamier with Guerlain Jicky or sour-juicier with Annick Goutal Eau d'Hadrien.

Riot of sweet flowers made lifelike by an interesting, persistent lime-linden accord, and maybe a touch of pepper. Very floral, but a little different somehow.

Greens, lime, and some perhaps some type of white floral. French Lime Blossom is fresh, linden-like, and simple. There really is no base accord to it. Unpretentious. Like it or not.

Tuberose is a very interesting note. For a long time, I thought it was a piercingly sweet floral, and perhaps the flower is extraordinarily sweet in real life. Not so real tuberose absolute. Rather, it carries a heavy aroma like rotten flowers and rubber. Perfume being what it is (a recreation of natural smells) the method for putting the sweetness into the tuberose absolute is to add it back via chemicals--or the few sweet natural substances that are strong enough to compete with it. That is why perfume that uses tuberose absolute is always sweet. Without these additives, it would be ghastly. No one would wear it. No more deviating from the point, on to the review of Serge Lutens Tuberose Criminalle. My favorite aspect about this house is that the perfumers often avoid side-stepping the natural smell of the main accord. Instead, they ramp it up with supporting notes. This perfume is no exception. Dispite all other notes, it still smells like natural tuberose absolute. Another beautiful example is Iris Silver Mist, which smells very nearly exactly like orris butter. So, if you like tuberose, you must try this one before you can claim any familiarity with the note. Either that, or buy a sample vial of the absolute--but you'll never wear it.

Very sweet, leathery, and spicy. A little smoky. Lots of amber. This is the best way I can describe it. My gold standard for leather scents is a vintage bottle of Chanel Cuir de Russie (which smells little like the modern version) and is pure saddles, horses, barnyard, and a cowboy with a can of Skoal in his back pocket. Now, moving on to the newer leather creations, we have Serge Lutens with the apricot suade of Daim Blonde and the spicy, fruity, leather of Cuir Mauresque. They are enjoyable, but nothing like the old, animalic genre. I'm not a big leather fragrance fan, so I give it a neutral.

What a knockout of a fragrance. Having never known about this fragrance before, I tried it for the first time 20 years after its inception. Amazingly, I mistook Boucheron for a floral when I first applied it. Rapidly, a spiciness overtook the flowers, and then a citrusy floral over a creamy-sweet base, until it morphed into its true form--a big, woody, powdery, sweet Oriental with sillage to die for. This was made in the 80s, no doubt. Bold, memorable, and utterly pleasant for me.

As close to a plain oud fragrance as they come in this line. I found this to be a very pleasant, light, woody scent, close to the smell of the genuine substance. (I do have a sample, and it is stronger, dirtier, and smells more like a bag of aged hardwood mulch. The Montale perfume is more wearable.) I think that this perfume also has a bit of a vetiver-like aroma. Original Oud is only slightly sweet, no florals. Nice job. Doesn't last as long as Montale's other ouds, though. If you're looking for a unique woody fragrance with few supporting notes, this one is great.

Loved this one. Rich, deep, spicy, creamy, sweet. I adore fragrances of this genre. Mandarin and jasmine, patchouli, and spices, all laid on a base that simply glows and ends up smelling like vanilla creme soda or sassaparilla. Luscious.

Sweet, smokey. The birch tar smells dry and rubbery. More of an environmental scent, but people shouldn't smell like this, the outdoors should.

Sweet, carroty, very delicate peppery top note. This is a highly realistic but somewhat thin orris. It smells lovely, like genuine orris butter.

A floral that quickly turns into more of a spicy perfume. Features bergamot, mandarin, jasmine (all good partners) plus cinnamon and cardamom (another nice pairing.) Delightful.

Green, milky freesia and hyacinth. Envy is a classic scent, yet not my type. Smells like the ubiquitous department store of the 1990s. Ritzy, cool, and emotionally removed. Young women ready to go clubbing.

This is a timid chypre in the new-school style, which is to say, tone down the oakmoss, patchouli, and labdanum. (Lord, this is such a boring genre for me. I'm an old-school fan. Chypres use to have so much more character.) Juicy Couture wants to be a fruity chypre, but it cannot decide which fruit to be. And it wants to be popular, which means that it cannot go too far in any direction. So it ends smelling meek, like a carton of juice that somebody forgot in the refrigerator for too long and it is starting to turn to wine. How daring. I'll skip it. Pass the real stuff.

Maybe I'm having an off day, but I wasn't unduly impressed by this one. The only other Del Rae I have smelled is Amoreuse, which was like living plants, like a blast of cool air from a flower shop, and I loved it. I was surprised by Bois de Paradis. I missed the notes completely. It was lush, sweet, almost chocolatey, with mint, berries, and patchouli. Then it turned into pure honey on me. Intensely sweet, toothachingly sweet, and I thought of Angel. Except I get honey, not cotton candy. Just not for me.

I'll be honest; I don't like this. It just isn't my genre. I didn't try it on my skin; it might do something magic there, but it would have to pull a rabbit out of a hat to make me want to wear it. I'm not getting any of the listed notes. Without looking, I thought it was ozonic. It was so airy, so intense, so persistent. I thought maybe it had a bit of lavendar or herbs. After I read the notes, I might agree with violet leaves, which are rather sharp and vegetal, but more salty in my opinion. This fragrance is so big and airy it's almost windy, or even watery. It's definitely masculine. I didn't enjoy it.

I smelled a few Creed fragrances at the same time, and I liked this one the best. The others were decidedly floral, but this one was different. Royal Water is clean, woody, herbal, almost dry. Imagine my surprise to not find vetiver listed among the notes. It started out lemony, and I swore there was incense in there as well. As the citrus withdrew, it maintained its crisp, cool, airy character. Are you sure there isn't any vetiver? Only herbs and spices? Oh well. Overall, it smelled more masculine than feminine to me. I enjoyed this one on paper, but I didn't get to try it on my skin yet.

The main component of this perfume is a particularly dark labdanum (also known as amber, or the resin of the rock rose plant.) It is a big, raw fragrance. It knocks on the door. You answer. Standing there is Youth Dew's foreign cousin. She is covered in a burka, and she smells like an Arbian bazaar. Ambargris is deeply spicy, resinously woody, syrupy sweet, and smoky, too. The scent is far more exotic than her American counsin's cinnamon and patchouli. You want to see her face, which is concealed by black fabric. She comes in, carrying big leather carpet bags and sits on a cushion on the floor. Finally, she unveils, and you can see a resemblance to her half-sisters, Serge Lutens Amber Sultan and Arabie. She unpacks a box of spices and dried fruit. She lights chunks of incense on top of charcoal in a brazier. That is the impression that this perfume gives, sweet, syrupy, fruity, smoky amber.

A very un-Chanel-like fragrance, it lacks the usual transparency, right from the start. With a heavy vanilla combined with a piquent incense, it creates an unsettled accord that veers between creamy-sweet and campherous-resinous. Don't worry, it all works out when an earthy patchouli steps forward and steers it down a definite woody-sweet path. It might take some getting-used-to, not being what you would expect from Chanel (more like Montale Patchouli Leaves) but its intriguing and a move in a new direction, toward the style of niche houses. Initially I preferred the beautiful 31 Rue Cambon, which goes on drier and gradually develops a sweet peachy note. However, Coromondel won my affection with its more overt, fascinating candied fruit note and pronounced patchouli. It's less subtle, but then, so am I.

I was excited to try Sycomore because it is by Jacques Polge who created Bois des Iles, but there is no reference to that former fragrance. Sycomore strikes me as a completely new genre, one of the "environmental" fragrances that transport the wearer to imaginary surroundings. It is ambiance in a bottle, but it reminds me of something I once read on a forum, "People shouldn't smell like this, room should." In fact, not rooms, but the outdoors. I smelled nothing of the florals described by previous reviewers. Sycomore is a vetiver fragrance--and a smokey one at that. It is challenging. It is dry and salty--and peppery. It is decidedly masculine. Do I like it? Not really. I think it is an artistic achievement, but I would not wear it as a perfume. Please pass the gingerbread, instead.

Exhuberant, sweet, candy floral with a dominant violet note that slowly turns into a bright raspberry. If this is your type of fragrance, go for it. You'll love it. Not for me, though.

Big bouquet of sweet, orange-scented flowers, jasmine and a spring bouquet. Very pretty, but too sweet for me.

An Oriental in the line of Shalimar, with its lemon and vanilla, plus a particularly bitter wood or leather note. Not terribly original, but it has a nice, strong, bold presence. Still, I would just as soon get Shalimar in the pure parfum concentration.

Green chypres--how I love their mossy redolence and outdoorsiness. They don't make many new ones in this venerated genre. That's why it's important to know which ones still exist. Anyone who likes Paloma Picasso or the old Norell should try Scherrer. (There are two entries in this directory by the names of Jean Louis Scherrer and plain Scherrer, both 1979, so I'm assuming they are a double entry.) This perfume is gloriously green with spicy florals ona a mossy base. It is less sweet than Paloma Picasso, but both manage to acheive a forestlike aroma trhough the use of galbanum, patchouli, and oakmoss. The spices are anyone's guess, buty they differ from the typical Oriental mix, leaning toward fresh and evergreen rather than sweet and gourmand. I hope that some day this unusual and highly satisfying genre makes a comeback and accrues more entries in the market.

Green chypres--how I love their mossy redolence and outdoorsiness. They don't make many new ones in this venerated genre. That's why it's important to know which ones still exist. Anyone who likes Paloma Picasso or the old Norell should try Scherrer. (There are two entries in this directory by the names of Jean Louis Scherrer and plain Scherrer, both 1979, so I'm assuming they are a double entry.) This perfume is gloriously green with spicy florals ona a mossy base. It is less sweet than Paloma Picasso, but both manage to acheive a forestlike aroma trhough the use of galbanum, patchouli, and oakmoss. The spices are anyone's guess, buty they differ from the typical Oriental mix, leaning toward fresh and evergreen rather than sweet and gourmand. I hope that some day this unusual and highly satisfying genre makes a comeback and accrues more entries in the market.

Sandalwood--deep, oily, and ethereal. I used to think this was close to a pure sandalwood fragrance, but I have done alot of experimentation with resins, and I am able to identify their presence now. Although there are a minimum of supporting notes, this also qualifies, in my mind, as an incense fragrance. There is a good deal of myrrh as well as amber in here. Sandalwood is the star of the show, but the myrrh is apparent all the way through the drydown. The combination of notes is good--it mimics physical warmth. Sandalo has been described as "dry" but I find also find it sweet. It smells like HEAT. This fragrance is dynamic. Although it is linear, the sandalwood is three-dimensional, moving off the skin like waves of rising air.

I had the wonderful opportunity of trying vintage Cuir de Russie parfum from the 1950s. It was the most animalic yet softest perfume I have ever smelled. The leather was incredibly realistic, like walking into the tack room of a stable, smelling the leather saddles and harnesses, and also the horses, sweet and fecal, and the cowboy, himself, with his can of chewing tobacco. The jasmine was exceedingly rich. I do not know what the modern version smells like, but the vintage was totally fascinating. It amazes me that women of that era wore such a bold fragrance. We should follow their lead.
Edited: I have now tried the new Cuir de Russie, and it is also beautiful, but not the same scent as the original. The new EDT is nowhere near as leathery or animalic. It no longer smells like a saddlery. If I had to guess, I would say that the missing component is castoreum.

I love this breath of green air, very Chanel-like, herbal and light, soft and diffusive, leavy and ozonic, with a base that is not overly sweet. If I had to guess, I would say there is iris, hyacinth, perhaps a delicate pine, some fresh kitchen herbs, all overlaid on a nice sandalwood. Who knows? It succeeds in avoiding the problems that plague herbal fragrances, such as a lingering bitterness (if not sweetened enough) or a crude soapiness (if sweetened too much). My sole complaint is that it doesn't project for long. I would have to apply it liberally. This is truly beautiful--fresh and cool.

Add this one to my short list of new Chypres that I love, falling into the category of "pink chypres" but avoiding the pitfall of the sour, fermented note that ruins most of them. In contrast, it starts out spicy-floral and ends fruity-sweet. 31 Rue Cambon begins, like all great Chypres, with a strong bergamot top note. It moves into what I would describe as a floral phase, with an impressive type of mellow, warm, carnation, or maybe a floral bouquet garnished with clove and other spices. After that, a sweet, soft, base becomes apparent, carrying a note that I can only describe as a teriffic kind of peach-apricot accord, which creeps in, increases, and remains until the end. Throughout its development, this perfume maintains a spicy characteristic that teeters on the edge of Oriental territory, indeed reminding me of the great Coco.

Iris, iris, and more iris. And a great version of it, too, devoid of powdery sweetness, smelling rooty like the real thing, not covered up by florals, and yet delicately sweetened, probably by an airy sandalwood base. I smell something delicately green and woody, maybe clary sage, or some other ehtereal note. And possibly a bit of pepper, which goes well with iris, like it did in Lancome Oxygene. This is in no way as earthy as Serge Lutens Iris Silver MIst. Its duration is regrettably short, as it comes off the skin in a heady, breezy rush. Enjoyable while it lasts.

I fell in love with this fragrance when I stopped looking for the rose and accepted it for what it is--an herbal perfume with exceptional depth and sweet darkness. Yes, the rose is still there, dried red petals locked in a pirates' chest, in the hold of an old wooden ship, in the dark, lit by the fire of guttering torches--but now it's explainable. The florals support the herbs, not the other way around. That big, musty, anisy, patchouli note? It's the star of the show, not an interloper that overtakes the poor, captive rose. This was Goth before Goth became a fashion statement.
Edit: I now have the cream. Although it is not a listed note, I smell quite a bit of something similar to civit accord.

Yes, those 80s scents were loud, and the Chypres were no exception, being both loud and weird, but they had so much more character than many of today's offerings, especially the new "pink chypres." This has great notes of galbanum, carnation, hyacinth, and other spicy florals laid on a nice bed of heavy amber in the old-school way. Georgio amuses me.

I smell mostly incense, or something that approximates it, which is a bit harsh and somewhat orangey, like olibanum. And it grows faint pretty soon. I liked CK One so much better.

This perfumes says, "I'm sorry, I want to wear perfume, but I don't want to offend anyone, so can I wear a little, faint, apologetic fragrance like this?" It went on soft and a little powdery, then it thinned out and shrank into the background, like a faint, clean musk and weak white floral contraption, all the while trying to be non-threatening.

Very floral in an almost bathroom spray way. Lily, gardenia, lilac, all stereotyped, exaggerated versions of flowers. It holds nothing back, is naively straightforward, unsophisticated. Not bad, but not for me.

Paris was underwhelming for me. I feel bad saying this because I wonder about my sanity when so many other people like this perfume. It came out of the bottle smelling interesting, like minty violets on a bed of rose petals. Then it developed no further nuances on my skin. It merely remained a nice floral and no more. (For comparison, I put Coco on my other hand, and that one had much more character and smelled much better throughout its development.)
I thought hard about another time that this happened: it was with Bulgari Pour Femme. Same thing--violets and roses, okay but nothing special. Then I noticed that both were by Sophia Grojsman, so I guess that is the commonality. Her rose and violet theme doesn't wear well on me.

I am not a scent snob. I will blind test anything. Although the notion of celebrity fragrances makes me shiver, and I particularly loathe fanciful, synthetic notes, I admit that I liked Mariah Carey M. Tiare flower, gardenia, patchouli, and incense make it a warm, somewhat woody floriental. (I wish I had not read that the sweetness was marshmallow.) I might not consider it FBW, but it was good. After I tried it on skin, I liked it less than on paper.

How disappointing. I pick up this edgy, fabulous, tattoo-painted bottle with skulls and words like "kills" and expect to smell something dark--weird. What do I get? Strawberries and cream.
Jarring. Ironic. (Is that the joke?) I used to like creamy strawberry perfume--when I was 13 years old. Maybe I still do, but I was so confused that I didn't give this one a chance. For toothaching sweetness, Angel or Mariah Carey M are better, I think. That bottle, though, is a total success. Looks like a Mexican prayer candle. I love those, too.

It's about time that I reviewed this. I bought a bottle of Eternity when it first came out. It smelled so good in those magazine inserts. I only used about one inch of the fragrance out of the bottle before I had to give it away. I'm afraid it smelled alot better on paper than it did on