tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16616528888286167712024-03-05T13:43:07.783+08:00The ScentuaryReviews, impressions, and a little more.Matthew Foohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01499017037861820831noreply@blogger.comBlogger75125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1661652888828616771.post-21849432218672398282020-07-07T15:48:00.004+08:002020-07-07T15:48:52.056+08:00Serge Lutens: Chypre Rouge<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgquZOlum6D4yEjMWHLaVLDA6az3zlH_DfFjY_XP7sckZGvhRkkYFFMdnFvzXNe5sKi0_YYYEL5lCo22_L8l8k170jAXlaKOvkxfVcTxQkS3OC-cl7xh3iKy0-LExWyRaC67HQkos0AYWs/s1600/gummy_bears.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5605772071510733970" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgquZOlum6D4yEjMWHLaVLDA6az3zlH_DfFjY_XP7sckZGvhRkkYFFMdnFvzXNe5sKi0_YYYEL5lCo22_L8l8k170jAXlaKOvkxfVcTxQkS3OC-cl7xh3iKy0-LExWyRaC67HQkos0AYWs/s320/gummy_bears.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 240px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /></a><br />
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This is Chene candy-edition.<br />
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To enjoy:</div>
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1. You must like the smell of oak.</div>
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2. You must like the smell of the saturated, medicinal sweetness of gummy bears (it is REALISTIC).</div>
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If you haven't tried <b>Chene</b>, never mind, just try Chypre Rouge, and you'll get a rough picture. :) </div>
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Between them, I reach for Chypre Rouge more often... not surprising for a sweet tooth. On this note, I recommend that fans of CR, give <i>Parfumerie Generale</i>'s <b>Cuir Venenum</b> a try, for a diabetic dose of fruit jam x leather. It is the Britney Spears of leather, a bridging introductory to leather for the minor.<br />
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Matthew Foohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01499017037861820831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1661652888828616771.post-29845768997103427352011-05-12T18:05:00.001+08:002011-05-14T23:40:30.933+08:00Serge Lutens: Chypre Rouge<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgquZOlum6D4yEjMWHLaVLDA6az3zlH_DfFjY_XP7sckZGvhRkkYFFMdnFvzXNe5sKi0_YYYEL5lCo22_L8l8k170jAXlaKOvkxfVcTxQkS3OC-cl7xh3iKy0-LExWyRaC67HQkos0AYWs/s1600/gummy_bears.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgquZOlum6D4yEjMWHLaVLDA6az3zlH_DfFjY_XP7sckZGvhRkkYFFMdnFvzXNe5sKi0_YYYEL5lCo22_L8l8k170jAXlaKOvkxfVcTxQkS3OC-cl7xh3iKy0-LExWyRaC67HQkos0AYWs/s320/gummy_bears.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5605772071510733970" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>This is Chene candy-edition.<div><br /></div><div>To enjoy:</div><div><br /></div><div>1. You must like the smell of oak.</div><div>2. You must like the smell of the saturated, medicinal sweetness of gummy bears (it is REALISTIC).</div><div>If you haven't tried <b>Chene</b>, never mind, just try Chypre Rouge, and you'll get a rough picture. :) </div><div><br /></div><div>Between them, I reach for Chypre Rouge more often... not surprising for a sweet tooth. On this note, I recommend that fans of CR, give <i>Parfumerie Generale</i>'s <b>Cuir Venenum</b> a try, for a diabetic dose of fruit jam. The cuir remains elusive, if any present at all.</div>Matthew Foohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01499017037861820831noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1661652888828616771.post-45763412317023982002011-04-15T11:03:00.004+08:002011-05-14T23:43:06.168+08:00The Different Company: Bergamote<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbx5Q9gmFR1455PWUgrHvmMSGbTQBgR7gh92JT2ZCI6sujeV6GIZCx3XHshdPkHf3sHvXLMIqhWKzo-vlK8ylihpTWGY1xkJNGP3lSy26o26MIJO64eTP4NvE-YNpLQEFGjSVPB4M5Oho/s1600/25303.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 285px; height: 315px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbx5Q9gmFR1455PWUgrHvmMSGbTQBgR7gh92JT2ZCI6sujeV6GIZCx3XHshdPkHf3sHvXLMIqhWKzo-vlK8ylihpTWGY1xkJNGP3lSy26o26MIJO64eTP4NvE-YNpLQEFGjSVPB4M5Oho/s320/25303.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5595643621205801298" /></a><br /><b><div><b><br /></b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div><b><br /></b></div>Humble honesty</b>: (Your favorite "all-natural") Lemon air-purifier , Ellena-style.<div><b>More Interesting and "less natural" alternative</b>: Burberry Weekend For Men.<div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><b>Like?</b>: Yes, enough.</div></div>Matthew Foohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01499017037861820831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1661652888828616771.post-48419300061867047762011-04-10T15:23:00.004+08:002011-04-10T16:13:27.294+08:00Amouage: Lyric Man/For Men<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBCeicuu-qtWQCyzomiSmxkMSyvTkdF_TThEVrxpmtMMgL4ivWwZMm4Ebzn-HMVIRwaV3wbsdF34h2v4oy0r6xPkiRmlXOi4q7AkXI89hE0IBvH0ajLMhZlTp26Bd_dTPOfqPjD8OjH0E/s1600/lyric_man.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 260px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBCeicuu-qtWQCyzomiSmxkMSyvTkdF_TThEVrxpmtMMgL4ivWwZMm4Ebzn-HMVIRwaV3wbsdF34h2v4oy0r6xPkiRmlXOi4q7AkXI89hE0IBvH0ajLMhZlTp26Bd_dTPOfqPjD8OjH0E/s320/lyric_man.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5593863965045972626" /></a><br />I fail to understand this one, and despite an absolute love for it, I fail to say why I do when I'm asked, except to simply say that it smells just so good. <div><br /></div><div>Don't worry though, you're not up for something complicated. </div><div><br /></div><div>Well, it's versatile, inoffensive (anything is, if politely used), and beautiful. Sure, it is easy to say it's just another good-smelling rose one, and it is. And like most Amouages, possess the silky, powdery texture that is the epitome of an Amouage track.</div><div><br /></div><div>Now, if you're expecting a close-to-life blown up of a rose petal, you'd be surprise. If we're comparing a fresh, moist, waxy rose, with a rose contribution to a potpourri..... it is the latter. But do not misunderstand me. This one smells great even for someone who prefers the smell of natural roses. It does not come across as a rose soliflore, more like a floral mixture.</div><div><br /></div><div>Lightly spiced, but not in the chili-hot sense (an association I have a cultural habit of making), but rather, a little powdered mixture of the sweetest spices (you'll <i>definitely</i> notice some saffron, the rest is a blur to me), and typically fashioned with sandalwood (yes, what fragrance isn't?) and their famous-by-now frankincense. It might seem, just by brief discussion here, that we're looking at something old-school. It's hardly. </div><div><br /></div><div>I told you, it isn't complicated, and I've left out the smaller and less significant-smelling bits. Whatever you do or expect, make sure you smell it, because it isn't mind-blowing, and it smells just so good. You might even wonder if it smells a little too familiar, like a favorite body foam. </div><div>And you'd wish all body-foams smelled this way.</div><div><br /></div><div>Oh, if you happen to serve a bottle-collecting kink, you'd be treating yourself to a solid looking/feeling one. Lyric Man is not photogenic.</div><div><br /></div><div>Oh, and if you're looking for something similar, but livelier/with more complexity(floral mambo jumbo), try Lyric Woman/For Women. (You didn't say less expensive right?).</div>Matthew Foohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01499017037861820831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1661652888828616771.post-7533171811795851642011-03-14T15:12:00.015+08:002011-03-14T16:55:17.389+08:00DON CORLEONE by La Via del Profumo<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMJEIv71BjwOTeXzGZCzcpMxLhlGICgoieCjoyglQaV34HGXnLv00mgJ_GoeQlsfdyxdpbB-TKpOwmgPmiBscpiq9i_kt17MwIrEoj2Xfli3EG3vc1d2H965vK4H49oPxfNR4Kt3nHgG19/s1600/DonCorleone.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMJEIv71BjwOTeXzGZCzcpMxLhlGICgoieCjoyglQaV34HGXnLv00mgJ_GoeQlsfdyxdpbB-TKpOwmgPmiBscpiq9i_kt17MwIrEoj2Xfli3EG3vc1d2H965vK4H49oPxfNR4Kt3nHgG19/s320/DonCorleone.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5583850024352126530" /></a><br /><i>"...a man who doesn't spend time with his family can never be a real man."</i><br /><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"> <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span> </span><span class="Apple-style-span">- Don Corleone, The Godfather (1972)</span></span></span></span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">Spoken by one of cinema's most charismatic mafia dons, those words seem at odds with the ruthless way he deals with his enemies. Don Corleone - the family man, the mafia don - is a study in contrasts, a reunification of contradictions, an iron fist in a velvet glove.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">The same perhaps can be said of its fragrance counterpart. Created entirely of naturally derived components by talented perfumer composer Dominique Dubrana or Salaam as he is known now, <b>Don Corleone</b> is an understated yet no less arresting composition involving aromatic herbs, tuberose, tobacco and vanilla. On my skin I get an unmistakable aromatic smokiness from tobacco ablsolue blending into the softly subdued vanilla and floral-herbal elements. But Tobacco Vanille this is not for it wears lightly, nowhere near as sweet given the lighter approach and herbal nuances, with a complexity that only all-natural perfumery can portray. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">Sillage may not be its strong suit but the quiet aura it radiates is not without authority. There is an indefinable quality about it that speaks of respect, family tradition, strength and fortitude. Add 'Sicilian flair' to the mix and it seems <b>Don Corleone</b> has just made me an offer I cannot refuse. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Pic: courtesy of Paramount Pictures</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"> </span></div>Diamondflamehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11871791027095496674noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1661652888828616771.post-29272072182538330792011-01-26T00:36:00.014+08:002011-01-26T02:23:49.271+08:00Amouage: Memoir Man<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyB9DX7kbvptgNTEAsJZNbycZqeyEvTouNE1fbWHZHc2DV7bxh0fLeDdmsBm4CMgDkkS6QVRJpkBb1VNeL0__w4VtmFxRIaGl8jX-Ax7bpDUFsGxtqJied4ELp3ZXK5dajWWWKY_tNrU6z/s1600/amouage-aedes-fragrances-memoir-man.jpg"></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb8j4zxfHnlxiyTZrpobetdvYJLeflMqCNOI1EHnfZk_nkkj7YYYN3ag6-o_n6IoAHk-ydTx9niU3AMlJxGmzUb5yULbTgrdOFWqfrdHqk0eCR0tov4RrJcJlfLz7j1J5kLfKUb4XdEpY9/s1600/annex-fonda-henry-12-angry-men_06.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566177119464897426" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb8j4zxfHnlxiyTZrpobetdvYJLeflMqCNOI1EHnfZk_nkkj7YYYN3ag6-o_n6IoAHk-ydTx9niU3AMlJxGmzUb5yULbTgrdOFWqfrdHqk0eCR0tov4RrJcJlfLz7j1J5kLfKUb4XdEpY9/s320/annex-fonda-henry-12-angry-men_06.jpg" /></a> <em>"Resonating the fragments of a memoir, this woody </em><em>and leather fougere fragrance is inspired </em></div><div><em>by the sombre mood of an existential journey. </em></div><div><em>Both alluring and philosophical, this fragrance defies </em><em>conventions and moves beyond sense and reason."</em></div><div></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;">- quoted verbatim from </span><a href="http://www.amouage.com/"><span style="font-size:85%;">www.amouage.com</span></a></div><div><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">For once, the copy despite its grammatical error, can hardly be accused of superfluous hyperbole. Having worn <strong>Memoir Man</strong> over a couple of days I found it to be a well-behaved gentlemanly fragrance with some pseudo-philosophical underpinnings based on a backstory that leaves plenty of gaps for the fertile imagination to fill. Clever marketing, huh? </span></div><div><br /></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Another aromatic fougere this may well be but its artistry is a delight. In particular, the pairing of absinth and mint to herald the arrival of a lavender heart showcases the work of someone who truly knows her stuff. I enjoy this prologue lot, as brief as it is bittersweet, mildly camphoraceous yet hardly medicinal. The accompanying frankincense adds warmth and character but retains a wispiness that allows a mildly barbershoppish fougere accord to radiate right through. Nice</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> but nothing outstanding. </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Or so my thoughts go. But as <strong>Memoir Man</strong> hits its strides, I find myself held spellbound by the rhythm of its pulse - the ebb and flow of the basenotes as they warm up on my skin, delivering subtle whiffs of musky woods one moment, creamy vetiver on soft leather in another. Genius! How anyone could deem it a linear scent is beyond me though I suppose a bad case of cold on a review day could throw a spanner in the works. </span></div><div><br /></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Like Dia Man, <strong>Memoir Man</strong> is on the quieter side of Amouage, its sillage seldom venturing further than a foot, but when it speaks, it is with the thoughtful words of a seasoned veteran rather than the prattling of a brash upstart. This is definitely not a scent designed to impress the impressionable crowd (<em>hint</em>), but it is this same cool, self-assuredness that makes it a winner in my books...or should I say 'future wardrobe'?</span></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"><strong>Notes:</strong></span></div><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"><em>absinth, basil, mint, rose, frankincense, lavender absolute, sandalwood, vetiver, guaiac wood, amber, vanilla, musk, oakmoss, leather, tobacco.</em></span></div><div><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"><strong><span style="font-size:85%;">Pic:</span> </strong></span></div><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"><em>Henry Fonda in 12 Angry Men</em> </span></div><div><br /><br /></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div>Diamondflamehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11871791027095496674noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1661652888828616771.post-56507959898335822522011-01-20T23:07:00.018+08:002011-01-21T01:03:07.287+08:00XerJoff: Oroville<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><u><br /></u></span></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLAQNhvRTYCi-Zovo9nwXEXX50EpJFv1xTLJYZ4alXTEv2eyTJH8jOB5I7JZqeoY0h59hi22q6d355Beh1ShwxmxUIErwZgYVMLGVYAQVw5Gr3ulOaCj1D0Q9jcc2wYg5KwySfhhXc2S3a/s1600/P1050289.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLAQNhvRTYCi-Zovo9nwXEXX50EpJFv1xTLJYZ4alXTEv2eyTJH8jOB5I7JZqeoY0h59hi22q6d355Beh1ShwxmxUIErwZgYVMLGVYAQVw5Gr3ulOaCj1D0Q9jcc2wYg5KwySfhhXc2S3a/s320/P1050289.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5564285176583587522" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span"><div style="text-align: justify;">I'll 'fess up. Tobacco scents are not the easiest to review. For many of us, when it comes to tobacco-inspired fragrances, we tend to look for familiar associations we have with tobacco from our past - be it the cherry pipe tobacco grandpa used to smoke or the cheap <i>bidi</i> favored by certain groups of people. My own earliest recollection of unsmoked tobacco is the lingering scent on the aluminium wrapper you find inside a cigarette box.</div></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">Xerjoff's <b>Oroville</b> is none of the above. For that reason alone, some reviewers may be inclined to think of it as a tobacco <i>lit</i>e, with little tobacco. They are not necessarily wrong though some of those opinions might have been shaped by side-by-side comparisons to fragrances with more prominent tobacco accords such as Tom Ford's Tobacco Vanille or By Kilian's Back to Black. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">Surprisingly, the first note off the top of <b>Oroville</b> was galbanum with its unmistakable earthy yet balsamic profile. But Lanvin for Men this is not, the galbanum giving way to a blossoming spicy floral blend tinged with the peculiar mustiness of clary sage. Unlike in a number of other Xerjoffs, the neroli and orange flowers are very much subdued here, existing mainly to add some piquancy to the sweetish spiciness of the carnation-tobacco blend as it slowly unravels.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre">At this point of the fragrance development some might venture to suggest </span>"clove cigarettes...??". Well, not quite, at least not to my nose. The aura of tobacco is nowhere near as densely crude nor as sweetly spiced as that of clove cigarettes. Neither does it have the dry unsmoked cigarette quality I find in Tom Ford's Tobacco Vanille or By Kilian's Back to Black. The closest I could think of was the tobacco absolute used in Sonoma Scent Studio's Tabac Aurea but where Tabac Aurea's rendition is a little creamy and powdery sweet, Oroville's version leans towards lightly musky woods and dry spices. Distinctively masculine and hardly sweet at all.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><b>Oroville</b> wears close to the skin, perhaps a little too closely for most wearers, with elevated body temperature improving its projection ever so slightly. But I have to admit it is an intriguing, smolderingly sexy scent up close, poised perfectly to start a lusty spark from that little cuddle with a lover. It continues along this line until the 4th hour when the tobacco and spice start to wear off, dwindling down a couple of notches to a warm ambery drydown with subtle hints of galbanum. Not much vanilla though. Overall longevity is good, easily 8 hours on my skin and tenaciously survives even a light shower.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">Much has been said of the quality ingredients in Xerjoffs. I'm happy to note that this is not just marketing blurbs. In fact, until <b>Oroville</b>, I have never smelled a tobacco note quite as beautiful. How does it compare to Tobacco Vanille and Back to Black? Let's just say that if the Tom Ford is a loud yet linear powerhouse, and the By Kilian a somewhat bombastic masterpiece, then Xerjoff's <b>Oroville</b> is more of an understated yet suavely classy fragrance for the gentleman who appreciates quality craftmanship. Anyone who expects an edgy, <i>avant garde</i> composition or a mind-blowing showstopper from their USD345 bottle of Xerjoff is clearly missing the point. But if you are the sort who favors a Breguet over a Casio when both tell the time almost equally well, you'll probably understand why there is always a place in the market for the likes of Xerjoff. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">Is <b>Oroville</b> full bottle worthy? I honestly do not know. It's probably best to let your bank account be the judge. </span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><b>Notes</b>:</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><i>chamomile, clary sage, carnation, orange flower, neroli, tobacco, musk, sandalwood, galbanum, vanilla, amber</i>. </span></div><div><br /></div><div><b>Photo</b>: <i>author's own</i></div><div> </div>Diamondflamehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11871791027095496674noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1661652888828616771.post-84070460419093385382010-10-29T18:53:00.003+08:002010-10-29T21:25:34.623+08:00Frapin: L’Humaniste<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-uV8sgOTYNVrSbReTdJiVnbzML8c3Yl6PVda3bjF3DfS638btSGXUmyfKKbmzR4CX68eM42GIhExPGxn4TswkYBOq2AyJlhAr0ehyWEGHvbgOzDLMHU32gTDM-vm0MObOSmgf30MzFS0/s1600/thyvulgarisstems.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 296px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-uV8sgOTYNVrSbReTdJiVnbzML8c3Yl6PVda3bjF3DfS638btSGXUmyfKKbmzR4CX68eM42GIhExPGxn4TswkYBOq2AyJlhAr0ehyWEGHvbgOzDLMHU32gTDM-vm0MObOSmgf30MzFS0/s320/thyvulgarisstems.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5533425073320319474" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />I was a little skeptical. "Fresh" is not something I'd feel inspired by at this point, and most reviews I've seen, told me so. So I got down to sampling it, giving it a few full wears. Well, it smells safe.<br /><br />The peppery citrus opening is pleasant, but isn't exactly a breakthrough. Then there's a medicinal, over-ripe berry sweetness that didn't go quite well with me. Too further close the doors, I don't particularly enjoy the herbal smell of (a WHOLE LOT of) thyme which seems to permeate through all of L’Humaniste The scent then transcends into a slightly woody vanillic dry-down.<br /><br />If you like thyme, chances are, you will find it familiarly pleasant.Matthew Foohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01499017037861820831noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1661652888828616771.post-9250538789019961192010-10-12T15:09:00.005+08:002010-10-12T15:18:45.720+08:00Tom Ford: Black Orchid<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp4A04LLG8Fu1Mi6zMgcEo0dwprVSlk5qTzbkrTpEcH9EkL1AAEThnFY4IXHmxPrn2aac2Tj-Jb-568MWtyrLkuf-kB_DzgAx_0zw5DUiRkU59N51u3W0V0lLjvBRVPIU8L7cCbdx7dYw/s1600/Black+Orchid+-+final.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 170px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp4A04LLG8Fu1Mi6zMgcEo0dwprVSlk5qTzbkrTpEcH9EkL1AAEThnFY4IXHmxPrn2aac2Tj-Jb-568MWtyrLkuf-kB_DzgAx_0zw5DUiRkU59N51u3W0V0lLjvBRVPIU8L7cCbdx7dYw/s320/Black+Orchid+-+final.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5527053747292477570" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">By Joey</span>,<br /><br /><br />Black Orchid is one of the few scents that vow me out of the vial. And it still does from my 30ml decant. It’s also a really popular scent that many women (and men) love. It’s unusual but pleasant, bold and exotic at the same time like an orchid flower. Or a really feisty Asian woman.<br /><br /><br />Black Orchid opens up with a fruity nuance of mango, tamed and smoothened up by coconut milk, the exact scent that you’d get when you eat thai mango rice after layering the mangoes with coconut milk. The coconut leads into the exotic scent of the orchid: a sharper, mustier vanilla with a tiny touch of wood. If you ever smelled an orchid before, this drydown is very close to it. It is also a dead ringer for the now discontinued and extremely rare Orchid from the now discontinued Yardley Fragrant Gardens line whose talc my mom used to wear when I was young.<br />If Tom Ford wanted to paint the image of an exotic Asian landscape with this, I am sold.Matthew Foohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01499017037861820831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1661652888828616771.post-61923924544410569562010-09-17T16:23:00.016+08:002010-09-17T17:40:43.479+08:00Caron: Tabac Blond (1919) - Review by Rachel Diebuechse<div align="justify"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZEuyRSpoCKsLRJGOMxlpG92P5dpFfoRxu8AsaEsTpk6H-Lj7Lm9ivcCMSVKAVsc1aJe5iLcrByNECbRZPPhYvjfWBlNfCNBAfUwGEWaPJzYu6h5UHEmbz9MTeUIKupB7W1aHxZnSxhyphenhyphenQi/s1600/argentine_tango.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 229px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5517814752301966178" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZEuyRSpoCKsLRJGOMxlpG92P5dpFfoRxu8AsaEsTpk6H-Lj7Lm9ivcCMSVKAVsc1aJe5iLcrByNECbRZPPhYvjfWBlNfCNBAfUwGEWaPJzYu6h5UHEmbz9MTeUIKupB7W1aHxZnSxhyphenhyphenQi/s320/argentine_tango.jpg" /></a> The eagerly awaited decant vial arrived late on a Saturday afternoon. I opened it and applied just a tiny drop to each of my wrist. First whiff: naughty thoughts began to play in my head, of digging out my little black book, calling up the virtuoso lover of my lifetime and suggesting he comes over immediately for a tryst. I remember thinking I should try to locate some opium before he arrived. While waiting for the drydown, I went round the block to buy a bottle of sparkling water. When I entered, the shopkeeper got down to his knees and begged me to marry him. As I exited, a very attractive young woman held open the door for me, half smiling, gazing curiously into my eyes. Strong stuff, I thought. Apply judiciously.<br /><br />I decided my evening plans would include test-driving this fragrance in public while dancing the tango at a <em>milonga</em>. How better than with a dozen dance partners during a sweaty summer full moon in the tropics? I took a long cool bath, put up my hair, did my makeup, donned my dress and applied <strong>Tabac Blond</strong> in earnest this time. </div><div align="justify"><br /><div align="justify">Instantly, a movie began in my head. The perfume's first notes were vaguely automotive - a quick petrol stop at twilight, in a roadster with leather upholstery and a wood dashboard. I glimpsed my own face in the rearview mirror and saw I bore a striking resemblance to Faye Dunaway in "Chinatown". I wore a thin, champagne-colored silk charmeuse blouse sans bra, wide-legged trousers and trailed fox furs. I called at the penthouse suite of an aging yet dangerously handsome actor. His Asian butler ushered me past the tall vases of white flowers in the foyer into the wood paneled library where the actor sat waiting for me in a leather chair by the fireplace, smoking a cigarette. Perhaps he was some kind of an Eastern religion cultist; I detected the smell of incense in the room. The actor rose and tried to kiss me on the mouth. I wrenched myself away, secretly flattered and not a little curious about what it would be like to kiss him. I had him sign the papers I carried in my <em>Hermes</em> satchel with the fountain pen on his desk. He offered cocktails. I declined.</div><br /><div align="justify">In real life, I had by then driven across the city and was arriving at the <em>milonga</em>. <strong>Tabac Blond</strong> continued to develop and unfold like a story. I spotted my regular tango partner sitting at a table with two other gentlemen; they rose as I approached. The white flowers were at that moment coming on: tuberose, carnation. The men told me I smelled ravishing. The dancing began and I was swept into the close embrace of a succession of partners. The room was warm. I perspired. The perfume only gained potency from my body's heat.</div></div><br />And then, in the second or third hour, the dark flowers came on. At this stage the iris nearly closed up my regular tango partner's throat and nose, and his eyes burned. The movie in my head changed; now the handsome actor was some kind of a fetishist and I was b<em>elle de jour</em>, lying in a coffin, naked except for a chiffon shroud, eyes closed, pretending to be dead while he practised some secret depravity. The scent had gone all purple: regal, funeral, decadent. But not sad.<br /><br />In deference to my favorite partner's allergy to perfume, I went to the ladies' room and bathed the nape of my neck and my throat in cold water. The perfume persisted, mutating. And as it dried again, the movie changed. Vanilla, clove, church incense, books - the library again. Hard liquor. I smelled the interior of the roadster. I craved a cigarette. Only then did I begin to smell the powder, and it was face powder and resin incense burned on charcoal that finished the fragrance story to my nose.<br /><br />I did not shower before falling exhausted into bed. The perfume gave me dreams. When I woke up, the sun was blazing. I sniffed at my wrists. What was then left of <strong>Tabac Blond</strong> on my skin was what I'd smelled when opening the fitted drawers of the 13,000 Euro antique Louis Vuitton trunk I could not possibly have bought, but coveted last year in Paris.<br /><br />As to <strong>Tabac Blond</strong> being thought dyke-y by some: I think it's possible it might have emboldened some already curious Vassar heiress to make out with a glamorous, worldly older woman in the ladies' room of a Monte Carlo casino or a glittering nightspot decades ago. Particularly if the woman wearing it it had been Marlene Dietrich. If it's a fragrance deemed equally suitable for men, I have not yet met the man who could carry it off during its floral passages. It seemed estrogen-loaded to me then. The evening after the milonga my regular tango partner confided in me that no man there could keep his eyes off my derriere. I know it wasn't the dress I wore, but the perfume. Perhaps <strong>Tabac Blond</strong> is suitable for both genders because the story it tells is of a meeting. Whether that's the masculine/feminine duality of one individual's nature or a rendezvous between a man and a woman, I cannot say. But to me, this fragrance is never androgynous.<br /><br />This one, I think, is a monster worthy of its notoriety. It tells a story that keeps unfolding for the better part of a day, like an acid trip. Timing must be everything in deciding when to apply it, since it will play out in its own good time. On me, it's frequently a tigress. I will admit to feeling at some times during its unfoldind that it wears me, not that I wear it - but in much the same way I'd feel if draped in exquisite sable furs from head to toe. Even if I am just its mannequin sometimes I won't complain. I think <strong>Tabac Blond</strong> must be what Daphne Du Maurier imagined Rebecca smelling of as she ordered those transparent undergarments of hers from the nuns. Memorable, seductive, strong. <em>C'est plus fort que moi.</em>Diamondflamehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11871791027095496674noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1661652888828616771.post-40505319683368839002010-09-11T21:50:00.006+08:002010-09-11T22:42:53.722+08:00XerJoff: Kobe<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRHTxMIFtpxSYRodPrAhvbP7vL6JeJuS-RdBvDpbLbctgr8cmadgVun8h5NbQ18_pj0Zd2g5EL4z9lZqkOizKE-nSin04MdtLxZDG-0u9U0oAzIYyjlIPsM5AoyBIazZCZFPtkYjqMaNCx/s1600/kobe-japan.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 239px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515664581600071842" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRHTxMIFtpxSYRodPrAhvbP7vL6JeJuS-RdBvDpbLbctgr8cmadgVun8h5NbQ18_pj0Zd2g5EL4z9lZqkOizKE-nSin04MdtLxZDG-0u9U0oAzIYyjlIPsM5AoyBIazZCZFPtkYjqMaNCx/s320/kobe-japan.jpg" /></a><br /><div></div>Yet another fragment of the same meteorite found in Kobe? Yeah, right.<br /><div></div><br /><div>The opening blend of neroli, citrus and petitgrain is simply gorgeous, with just about the right balance between hesperidic sparkle and citrus-peel bitterness. Unfortunately this aspect of the scent lasts no more than 20 minutes on my skin, giving way to a sweet but surprisingly oily and (gasp!) flat combination of tonka, amber and perhaps vanilla. It did get a little drier and resinuous later on but my nose could not detect whatever passes for 'oud'. </div><br /><div>The list of notes may look like a grocery list for Amazing Race participants but it certainly didn't fool me. Ultimately <strong>Kobe</strong> may still work well on fabric but on my skin? Disappointing. Even more so considering the price.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Notes:</div><br /><div>Calabrese bergamot, Florida orange, Italian neroli, Paraguayan petitgrain, rose wood, resins, oud, palisander, tonka, amber.</div>Diamondflamehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11871791027095496674noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1661652888828616771.post-59338759936729843842010-09-10T00:31:00.006+08:002010-09-10T18:55:31.178+08:00The Different Company: Rose Poivrée<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1dl8815UGDcOaIFcNkygkKCms2S0McNYx70VZVP9BdGWoN9hQZf3GkpT_c7xSbjEPhM52eJDnV_BJzE3Fs4VkWcEXdu1zlMDYEcBhDX0ZXdRFv7bfnrVTiVGF8358k7r1FJQHFR-A4VU/s1600/SW_202030-01.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1dl8815UGDcOaIFcNkygkKCms2S0McNYx70VZVP9BdGWoN9hQZf3GkpT_c7xSbjEPhM52eJDnV_BJzE3Fs4VkWcEXdu1zlMDYEcBhDX0ZXdRFv7bfnrVTiVGF8358k7r1FJQHFR-A4VU/s320/SW_202030-01.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514965957869324754" border="0" /></a><br />I love a quality rose scent. I never could enjoy the rose-syrup kind of rose scents like Perfumer's Workshop's Tea Rose, or the powdery and overly civety old-school kinds a la Aramis 900, or even the rose chypre heavyweights like the discontinued Gucci No.3.<br /><br />I absolutely love the ethereal, thin and transparent way Rose Poivree opens. The greenish and earthy naturalness of fresh and moist roses is almost perfectly reproduced here. This is the way I love my rose soliflores. This is free of the typical perfume-y powdery-ness and cloying-ness that many rose-dominant scents seem to harbor. I also love how the rose in Rose Poivree, possesses the same waxy-woody/crayon-y texture that (another favorite) Rose 31 also has. Where Rose 31 is cumin-induced, Rose Poivree replaces cumin with a tiny bit of pepper and a complimentary dose of civet. I was always wary of rose+civet combos, having experienced and eventually turned off by Aramis 900 and the likes. But as Rose Poivree starts to dry down, I was really really impressed by how Ellena used civet to give Rose Poivree a salty-animalic complexion, while adhering to the overall slimness and thinness of the scent. Almost as if the freshly-plucked rose at the beginning started to dry up and produce the salty-dirty/dried-sweat aspect in dried rose petals. In fact, I can draw similarities to (another dirty rose fave) Muscs Koublai Khan, which is lesser rose and much more of that salty-dirty/dried-sweat civet. The rose scents that I tend to fancy usually have a thinness and clarity about them, and Rose Poivree absolutely fits my bill perfectly.<br /><br />Sadly, I hear there has been a reformulation of Rose Poivree. I hear the newer formulation lacks in the civet department. This one is worth stocking up if reformulation news is to be taken seriously. It just would not be the same masterpiece without the civet.<span style="font-style: italic;"> </span><em><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"></span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"></span><br /></em>Matthew Foohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01499017037861820831noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1661652888828616771.post-39756789561649752642010-08-23T00:34:00.011+08:002010-08-23T01:57:10.040+08:00XerJoff: Modoc<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-hFzJ6mew2XH9facu_ys7moPd47mfC5FLiVtxzKI31_8A6wQw3D8UvS00joBIF4qiy6ZmRrIj9w3JBjTHooiT4ot5mEmIIPFPgIT_y7z5SIljo5svWn5XI3bsyxQPhitKYCYfDv3OWUSv/s1600/xerjoff-modoc001.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 213px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508284504990435650" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-hFzJ6mew2XH9facu_ys7moPd47mfC5FLiVtxzKI31_8A6wQw3D8UvS00joBIF4qiy6ZmRrIj9w3JBjTHooiT4ot5mEmIIPFPgIT_y7z5SIljo5svWn5XI3bsyxQPhitKYCYfDv3OWUSv/s320/xerjoff-modoc001.jpg" /></a><br /><div align="justify">USD 7 per ml? Outrageous! If you expect to be instantly 'wowed' by this scent, you're in for some disappointment; you're probably the wrong fit for the XerJoff lines anyway. But fret not, give it a little time and I'm sure <strong>Modoc</strong> will win you over with a masterclass in understated elegance. </div><br /><div align="justify"></div><br /><div align="justify">On my skin <strong>Modoc</strong> projects modestly at first but as the warmth radiates through I smell something lovely wafting around the room - a subtle blend of iris, soft citrus and amber, edged with the bitterness of artemisia and earthy vetiver roots. Up close I also detect something akin to cedar and sandalwood even though these are not listed as notes. It may not be the most compelling of compositions, not by a long shot but it is certainly one of the smoothest and natural-smelling. Fans of subtle understated fragrances should give <strong>Modoc</strong> a try even though it seems a little too safe, lacking the distinctive qualities of <strong>Nio</strong> or even <strong>Dhofar</strong>. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Notes:</div><br /><div>lemon, orange, artemisia, Fiorentine iris, orange flower, vetiver, vanilla absolute, amber, musk.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>*<em>photo courtesy of jrd4t</em>*</div>Diamondflamehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11871791027095496674noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1661652888828616771.post-58247075586958928972010-08-22T15:03:00.008+08:002010-08-22T15:56:16.091+08:00XerJoff: Dhofar<div align="justify"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7jjq96JycCP3iOay0-CG5Ppj5vvCysBNsME3b5Z7R8Da76C5UohiDrWjZm3h5rEID9bkY5UUYKV_jcEEesEptnoSpFKUIdUydt6gbeX5bIbgC2lYN4ieUkOq4RPn0YKeyG6_jRCxFBaxA/s1600/Dhofar-meteorite.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 248px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 203px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508138353770930002" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7jjq96JycCP3iOay0-CG5Ppj5vvCysBNsME3b5Z7R8Da76C5UohiDrWjZm3h5rEID9bkY5UUYKV_jcEEesEptnoSpFKUIdUydt6gbeX5bIbgC2lYN4ieUkOq4RPn0YKeyG6_jRCxFBaxA/s320/Dhofar-meteorite.jpg" /></a> <strong>Dhofar</strong> is a region in southern Oman. How it relates to XerJoff's Shooting Star line and its backstory of a meteorite shower over Siberia is anybody's guess. But a little research reveals a piece of meteorite had been named 'Dhofar' after the location where it was found. Nonetheless, with a moniker hailing from the Arabian peninsula, I expected something exotic with perhaps a Middle Eastern vibe. </div><br /><br /><div align="justify">I was right. Although <strong>Dhofar</strong> opens with a classically inspired herbal lavender, the pine needles, the jatamansi and spices harmonise wonderfully with a darkly earthy patchouli (though I swear it smells more like vetiver) to produce a distinctly masculine aura. It feels as though a traditional classic masculine such as Eau Sauvage is given a Middle Eastern-styled makeover, the continuous tension between soapy and earthy-spicy elements creating a rather interesting dissonance. Very original indeed. Unfortunately I'm neither tall, dark nor hairy(?) enough to carry <strong>Dhofar</strong> with aplomb. </div><br /><br /><br />Notes:<br /><br />lavender, coriander, pine needles, jatamansi, African orange flower, carnation, patchouli, Australian sandalwood, French labdanum.Diamondflamehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11871791027095496674noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1661652888828616771.post-58763407558989015852010-08-21T23:38:00.008+08:002010-08-22T00:25:52.724+08:00XerJoff: Nio<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxobaKAoO8xOHfCGMN40h0LNmBDUcCDERcK1f872Y1FtiqzkI0SgPBND3VWAAaCzFr_4xqdGEnOa55L6CgO1MvsAEN6xJcSmMm927TCVN5UC29RItnM-ruskGh3Lc_Xf_HLvCBB31AeMVq/s1600/Xerjoff-Nio.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 208px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 312px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5507897927825610818" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxobaKAoO8xOHfCGMN40h0LNmBDUcCDERcK1f872Y1FtiqzkI0SgPBND3VWAAaCzFr_4xqdGEnOa55L6CgO1MvsAEN6xJcSmMm927TCVN5UC29RItnM-ruskGh3Lc_Xf_HLvCBB31AeMVq/s320/Xerjoff-Nio.jpg" /></a><br /><div><div>If all you care about is getting from point A to point B, it probably matters little whether you are driving a Volkswagen or riding on a Greyhound coach. But others who look for a more engaging experience may prefer the looks and the smooth assured handling of a BMW roadster. </div><br /><br /><div></div><div><strong>XerJoff Nio</strong> is clearly for this latter group. It breaks no new grounds with its delightful rendition of a spicy green woody aromatic but if you're looking for the best of its class, <strong>Nio</strong> is probably right up there. It wears very well as a classy Mediterranean-styled masculine. And the more I tried it the more I grew to love it. I never thought I'd say something this crazy but this fragrance might just be worth skipping lunch over the next 3 months!</div><br /><br /><div></div><div>Notes:</div><br /><div>neroli, Calabrian bergamot, cardamom, nutmeg, pink pepper, green leaves, cedar, guaiac wood, Haitian vetiver, Indian patchouli, amber.</div></div>Diamondflamehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11871791027095496674noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1661652888828616771.post-54139190979401784062010-08-21T07:33:00.008+08:002010-08-21T08:39:58.326+08:00XerJoff: Uden<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmhOdp6iojxDE1WWJE2cOo_I37hiD_a5vN2DsBR05rAW9lTjscelioeib6dMwrDHDe-58s394LPgws2HMwWYlOe83esZurwcKCCxGD8lt2J8bjUhT_FmoOpKXR5-0Q8u_4e0l26eqV_fpu/s1600/Xerjoff-Uden.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 245px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5507651417633235250" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmhOdp6iojxDE1WWJE2cOo_I37hiD_a5vN2DsBR05rAW9lTjscelioeib6dMwrDHDe-58s394LPgws2HMwWYlOe83esZurwcKCCxGD8lt2J8bjUhT_FmoOpKXR5-0Q8u_4e0l26eqV_fpu/s320/Xerjoff-Uden.jpg" /></a><br /><div><div>BEFORE the frat boy jokes begin (believe me, I hear it all the time), let's get the name out of the way. <strong>XerJoff</strong> (pronounced as 'zerr-joff') is an Italian luxury house of fine fragrances that seeks to interpret natural wonders through Italian craftmanship. </div><div> </div><div> </div><div></div><div></div><div>As of today it has a total of 22 fragrances. This is a review of <strong>Uden </strong>from the Shooting Star line, named after one of the places in Russia that experienced a meteorite shower on February 12, 1947. As the marketing spiel goes, stars can indeed get closer than we think.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div><strong>XerJoff Uden</strong> starts off with a scintillating symphony of citrus and fruity-florals. Trying to isolate individual notes here is an exercise in futility for the blend is quickly enveloped by an oriental-like musky woods overlaid with a slightly boozy note of rum. At this juncture I understood why <strong>XerJoff</strong> classifies it as a 'marine fougere' - the resultant accord certainly has a marine-salty airy feel to it. But the 'fougere' aspect continues to elude me even today. Nevertheless given its eau de parfum strength, <strong>Uden</strong> projects beautifully, lasting a good 4 hours before drying down to a delicious aroma of vanilla over lightly roasted coffee. </div><br /><br /><div>Few would not balk at the retail price (USD345 for 50ml) but there is no question over the quality of the ingredients used even if they don't feel quite as natural as some of the best I've tried from the likes of Creed. Other reviewers however attribute this niggling 'flaw' to the house style; I would be wise to sample further from this house before drawing my own conclusions. It's just that the white musks feel a touch overdone here while the drydown could be richer. Neither is the transition from top notes to drydown as silky smooth as I have come to expect of a fragrance with such an exorbitant price tag. </div><br /><br /><div></div><div>Hefty expectations from hefty prices? Perhaps so, but that sounds pretty fair to me.</div><br /><br /><div></div><div>Notes:</div><br /><div>citrus, lemon, grapefruit, floral/fruity notes, rose, sandalwood, guaiac wood, rum absolute, amber, vanilla, coffee absolute, musks.</div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div></div></div>Diamondflamehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11871791027095496674noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1661652888828616771.post-31585384237213574002010-08-21T01:36:00.010+08:002010-08-21T01:55:31.606+08:00Domenico Caraceni: 1913<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw8bBnz1eqfjawAmxckEkVbHX_s4MWN21g3YqcB_5i3_bNUXyDjVU65nsDBgpOxjd5foqAkfQcGpQWQysj3onmFazws2fEDLN5oxHkEsGa4nc-fKzdMVgI9P8yjuu3liYm4w4d9JH0MSw3/s1600/Caraceni-1913.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 247px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5507549586310311522" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw8bBnz1eqfjawAmxckEkVbHX_s4MWN21g3YqcB_5i3_bNUXyDjVU65nsDBgpOxjd5foqAkfQcGpQWQysj3onmFazws2fEDLN5oxHkEsGa4nc-fKzdMVgI9P8yjuu3liYm4w4d9JH0MSw3/s320/Caraceni-1913.jpg" /></a><br /><div><div>A finely tailored rose-centric scent with an elegance that speaks of impeccable taste, very much like a bespoke suit. I used to think Domenico Caraceni 1913 is gender-neutral but with regular wearings I'm delighted to find it leaning ever so gently towards masculine territory, unveiling a slightly spicy muskiness underneath the plummy rose geranium. It also feels cool and dry as though a subtle vein of resinuous frankincense runs through it, but this is a blend so smooth I've long given up trying to decipher the component notes. Suffice to say I'm happy to join the discerning groups of fans in celebrating such an exquisite fragrance.</div><br /><br /><div>Notes: </div><div>petitgrain, styrax, geranium bourbon, neroli bigarade, rose absolute, tobacco essence, cypress, frankincense.</div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div></div>Diamondflamehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11871791027095496674noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1661652888828616771.post-22375616539919126882010-08-20T03:40:00.006+08:002010-08-20T07:05:57.170+08:00Montale: White Aoud<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-9rtQctJhiPeBdjpOQKingAa4zXB6xUpoliNKYx42ZZLBCW0lNCukImo5vlmRvvJ_HYkQyQ1X1GWWRUu3tmISZESIV-EnxbgJownNFV4wvkYCoI3vDxmgUckOqWAHi-ku2ujbv1jnljE/s1600/whiteaoud.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 274px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-9rtQctJhiPeBdjpOQKingAa4zXB6xUpoliNKYx42ZZLBCW0lNCukImo5vlmRvvJ_HYkQyQ1X1GWWRUu3tmISZESIV-EnxbgJownNFV4wvkYCoI3vDxmgUckOqWAHi-ku2ujbv1jnljE/s320/whiteaoud.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5507219832609260834" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyow304siJJ4tcKSmVdJlCzFK4mFFyRzJUuea66SeYK7Vk8WUryfB5t3LVcAXt23kQ-EOoHG0YDQyp0_Zo0trq4WW7LqZIwk2LMu5isw3Vd51RxGix9y9KubntUTpk-rWw7i9QJ9sIDkc/s1600/whiteaoud.jpg"><br /></a><br /><br /><br />It is amazing how so little this one is brought up/given a shout-out/reviewed compared to her more prolific siblings. Amazing because <span style="font-weight: bold;">White Aoud</span> stands no less in quality, substance, and general appeal, than the likes of Black Aoud, Red Aoud, Blue Amber, Oud Cuir d'Arabie etc.<br /><br />Before you go: <span style="font-style: italic;">"Oh not another Aoud variation"</span>. Let me say that this one is no surplus to any of her siblings or cousins.<br /><br />Of course, in no truer Montale Aoud fashion, White Aoud (also ordered in extra perfume concentration) opens with the gushing, muddy pungency of oudh, sweetened by a silky-smooth, syrupy rose, and inevitably garnished with some spices, most prominently saffron.<br /><br />To give it body, a thick, warm amber cloud gives White Aoud the much needed support and overall form. The powdery earthy sweetness of sandalwood, vanilla and patchouli are let loose and allowed to seek equal attention at the front, slowly pushing the oudh presence into <span style="font-style: italic;">semi</span>-oblivion. They start to form an accord that is present in a handful of other Aoud variations (most notably in Black Aoud).<br /><br />This rich floral amber will leave no room for any other olfactory distractions while she's performing. This one, like any bonafide Montale, has longevity and sillage made for the greedy.Matthew Foohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01499017037861820831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1661652888828616771.post-86696780230066734852010-08-19T02:48:00.003+08:002011-06-15T17:53:47.593+08:00Tauer Perfumes: L’Air du Désert Marocain<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY5Jk62L47aS1m4N1GwtAmxC70FOF3yZKseexC6Fs3_abBSCAC2v85MMFzSjGFBtTdZZXQ26mtCwC54ewxgppWDn8MzTErW3D4_ZUVpp5Eu1fxVJGjk2VFN6wBznseC_ztksWQ84mKpYo/s1600/sunset.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY5Jk62L47aS1m4N1GwtAmxC70FOF3yZKseexC6Fs3_abBSCAC2v85MMFzSjGFBtTdZZXQ26mtCwC54ewxgppWDn8MzTErW3D4_ZUVpp5Eu1fxVJGjk2VFN6wBznseC_ztksWQ84mKpYo/s320/sunset.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506833928860188402" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />Andy Tauer is a man sturdily grounded, and humble, and awfully talented, as proven by this masterpiece.<br /><br /><span style="text-decoration: underline;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span></span></span><span style="font-weight: bold;">L’Air du Désert Marocain</span> opens with an incense-y mist of sweet-sour spices, clouding the core and heart of the scent, which is a solid backbone of amber - a bonafide amber that has been given further texture enhancements by the use of musk, wood and patchouli.<br /><br />Complex in nature, yet never challenging to appreciate. Where Goutal's Encen Flamboyant flaunted incense in all its glory, but fell short of giving me more than just one face; and Lutens's heralded Ambre Sultan was over-exuberant in the spice department, L’Air du Désert Marocain was begotten as the answer, the perfect child.<br /><br />Amidst this incense/amber goodness, I can't help but notice a tarry leather accord laced around the scent like a belt, containing some of the floral and ambery sweetness.<br /><br />Seriously, one of the meatiest ambers alive..<br /><br />Thank you, Mr Tauer.Matthew Foohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01499017037861820831noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1661652888828616771.post-92012103907244159382010-08-14T07:39:00.010+08:002010-08-18T04:47:38.032+08:00Parfumerie Generale: Iris Oriental (Taizo)<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRz_GuqKx3YPtZmZtXntIV5DxEMYd1_YH-Tk3cWPluo65ORbX3tlYxZyHfGAfhOGrE5nVEL5UwoSVNWK7HUbOcKGkMbhvi7__zkVnPLLigAxy6ObvgtTUllysvZUeDivTo7UKC5M_kK0E/s1600/Iris+Taizo-700.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 245px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRz_GuqKx3YPtZmZtXntIV5DxEMYd1_YH-Tk3cWPluo65ORbX3tlYxZyHfGAfhOGrE5nVEL5UwoSVNWK7HUbOcKGkMbhvi7__zkVnPLLigAxy6ObvgtTUllysvZUeDivTo7UKC5M_kK0E/s320/Iris+Taizo-700.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506466295379268594" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: left;">I think Iris Oriental (Formally known as Iris Taizo) may be an attempt to steer away from the stereotypical presentations of iris.<br /></div></div><br />This one opens with a juicy raw cut carrot accord, the kind of carrot you get in Iris Silver Mist, without the vapory feel. As it settles, the texture seems to go smooth, balmy and powdery at the same time. Vanilla and honey add to the natural sweetness in well-measured moderation. Incense, wood and resin, give Iris Oriental a more well-rounded character. On the whole, this feels like an <span style="font-weight: bold;">iris amber</span>.<br /><br />I actually like how this one manages to refrain from smelling like cosmetics powder.<br /><br />I think it is safe to say that Iris Oriental is like a Cuir d'Iris without the leather, with amp-up iris and powder. Great for someone who prefers a straight-up rich and rooty iris scent, and is a little jaded by the usual iris soliflore.Matthew Foohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01499017037861820831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1661652888828616771.post-51745610399006486982010-08-14T03:02:00.006+08:002010-08-18T04:19:04.259+08:00Parfumerie Generale: Cuir d'Iris<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFpGv6hvPuDzJv0WGuYhR1y8Dpxis2ZOLz4JLVRHhpiW4c9qlG9-eM6B7alFr5zEHY3VbVrhekiJJXRVR2rhW-mSmLdCAeFUbPkXb7SOUFMEK5jfPo4lKgiSK4Aff1piBk1v9T1ohTUeY/s1600/cuirdiris.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 285px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFpGv6hvPuDzJv0WGuYhR1y8Dpxis2ZOLz4JLVRHhpiW4c9qlG9-eM6B7alFr5zEHY3VbVrhekiJJXRVR2rhW-mSmLdCAeFUbPkXb7SOUFMEK5jfPo4lKgiSK4Aff1piBk1v9T1ohTUeY/s320/cuirdiris.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5504987153910108114" border="0" /></a><br />I think it is well-established by now, that I enjoy my iris as much as my leathers. Pierre Guillaume once again hits those 2 olfactory spots in a flawless victory. There is a distinct "PG" quality and style (like a thick, dusty/smoky cloud) I notice in his musk laden, animalic amber creations, previously most prominently so in Felanilla and L'Ombre Fauve. Cuir d'Iris is another model representative that harbors that style.<br /><br />I believe it is down to the execution of marrying iris to leather so perfectly, that it comes off unpretentious and effortless, like as if they never existed separately. Upon first whiff, I get a mind-bogglingly natural smell of fine, buttery, supreme grade leather, exuding succulence and opulence, without even coming close to overwhelming the senses. All this happening, while the iris (in good amount mind you), so seamlessly included from the start, feels like it's been powdered over the leather.<br /><br />It is not long after appreciating and acknowledging the harmonious leather-iris blend, that I start to notice that the scent has built up quite a thick, woody and dusty cloud of smoke(the smoky amber I spoke of earlier). It is this permeative cloud that is present in L'Ombre Fauve as well. And like-wise in Cuir d'Iris, the vanilla provides sweetness to the balance which might have easily been deemed to be very dry. It stays pretty much a smoky leathery amber till its dying moment, many hours later.<br /><br />This is truly an amazing piece of work.Matthew Foohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01499017037861820831noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1661652888828616771.post-54445394887959717352010-08-13T02:13:00.010+08:002010-08-20T10:57:43.395+08:00Bond No. 9: West Side<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBDXNGjNnGmwAfAMQ-FF2hV1wrrP-XY5HQ-2rrkC2YTRQgHS7iD6wGnhF08yRMmCnSLSPCoW9b_YSdTO0OJxb-bZH9l1_WNPRUAq3R9Mk512wwOeVp2hoUmpiMpn3DiXH1VUo4C8kU2h4/s1600/002.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBDXNGjNnGmwAfAMQ-FF2hV1wrrP-XY5HQ-2rrkC2YTRQgHS7iD6wGnhF08yRMmCnSLSPCoW9b_YSdTO0OJxb-bZH9l1_WNPRUAq3R9Mk512wwOeVp2hoUmpiMpn3DiXH1VUo4C8kU2h4/s320/002.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5504597235355791314" border="0" /></a><br />"Cream Rose"<br /><br /><br />I will avoid discussing the inspiration of this scent since I am neither acquainted nor interested in why or how this could smell like homage to Jazz music.<br /><br />Bond no. 9 scents are (in)famously known to be derivative concoctions, (I'm sounding harsher than I meant to be)bearing only one aspect of a niche trait - Price. I'm not highly enthused to explore them extensively, but every now and then, I chance upon one that I just click with.<br /><br />West Side is a rather simple, clean and soft scent. Under most circumstances, stereotypes and associations, this one<span style="font-style: italic;"> might</span> just steer a little more to the girl-y side of things.<br /><br />It opens with a light and creamy rose + vanilla + sandalwood combination. It comfortably sheds the floral notes as the first hour or so passes, and the main program of creamy and smooth sandalwood and vanilla starts to run its course. I seem to notice a plastic-y/chemical-y accord in West Side, though not in any negative sense. I actually quite enjoy this aspect.<br /><br />In the ending phases, soft musk which has always been around, starts to reveal its role in the comforting, soapy-clean silk veil over my skin.Matthew Foohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01499017037861820831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1661652888828616771.post-45862355485740113162010-08-11T06:27:00.004+08:002010-08-11T06:50:05.251+08:00Tom Ford: Tobacco Vanille<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWRcdIsWZjXjOCVyUo-G3O8ZgiDTY_10WauFelH79V-xPo1p5OP2d16jc2Z0wdijnzP2OAfXshTMhSZT8OG6JlUxxxvn_L2FTJl4KgAU95WAZa8t8Tg7xm4OHwRGT-z6tWiNEZh9TdGmk/s1600/large_4874b7cce12c3_Honey+and+Vanilla.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWRcdIsWZjXjOCVyUo-G3O8ZgiDTY_10WauFelH79V-xPo1p5OP2d16jc2Z0wdijnzP2OAfXshTMhSZT8OG6JlUxxxvn_L2FTJl4KgAU95WAZa8t8Tg7xm4OHwRGT-z6tWiNEZh9TdGmk/s320/large_4874b7cce12c3_Honey+and+Vanilla.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503916525679345778" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Tobacco Vanille unlike what the name might suggest, is not a typical smokey vanilla monster ( I believe the tobacco reference here is one of unsmoked tobacco leaves.) Instead, it is a rather linear blend of honey, dried fruits and vanilla.<br /><br />This isn't a rich or thick dessert-y concoction either. This ambient scent greets you with the sweetness of honeyed and slightly-spiced dried fruit, lightly layered with vanilla. In fact, the vanilla stays rather quiet and mostly complimentary for most parts of the top and heart phases, revealing itself more prominently in the final stages of the dry-down as a typical vanilla skin-scent.<br /><br />Longevity and sillage is impressive, and for good reason if you enjoy it upon first spritz - it doesn't evolve much.<br /><br />I'm hardly blown away, but this will serve you well if you're looking for a simple and cozy olfactory companion, much like burning vanilla-scented beeswax candles.Matthew Foohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01499017037861820831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1661652888828616771.post-43568939812254162812010-08-07T23:51:00.016+08:002010-08-08T00:55:46.575+08:00Domenico Caraceni: Ivy League<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim2OcDNvN1NcQVvI8LoFonxs6cxx9qUDyit2IyJMADB8jsdJFam9Ew0zYaJauBX9pR5_LlbNTTkfgLgmlpklKFQ_XIU9hbausziAsmpDhyphenhyphenMIpCslrwZdZAuf8pClQT5FzozDGnSb65Zt-g/s1600/ivy-league-portfolio.png"><img style="WIDTH: 250px; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502704888575439794" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim2OcDNvN1NcQVvI8LoFonxs6cxx9qUDyit2IyJMADB8jsdJFam9Ew0zYaJauBX9pR5_LlbNTTkfgLgmlpklKFQ_XIU9hbausziAsmpDhyphenhyphenMIpCslrwZdZAuf8pClQT5FzozDGnSb65Zt-g/s320/ivy-league-portfolio.png" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4MRZOrByGO-qOTDZoVs4AR3cmJmxll-ag1pR7ZXD2jZCq53peuFwpk0oVfvT4CF6pzkWOwO7LjoIJOYYDTiOLvihoToeJ6bDqm5I8y25SXGoODxPabEMd-qVJmTQjejheDuev2r4BTG0S/s1600/11oi6.jpg"><img style="WIDTH: 152px; HEIGHT: 202px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502706469935462194" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4MRZOrByGO-qOTDZoVs4AR3cmJmxll-ag1pR7ZXD2jZCq53peuFwpk0oVfvT4CF6pzkWOwO7LjoIJOYYDTiOLvihoToeJ6bDqm5I8y25SXGoODxPabEMd-qVJmTQjejheDuev2r4BTG0S/s320/11oi6.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwFl5VdAquREwjg1YN3Kt7mpyq-lVrUPvG-53vkV7P3dB7boTSFRbQbjTe3GsTHQDBFITafzjnIlMzjibQs3NbgB7xTGcuZ42ATLp9-pUoeMMnEW01KPGd9TEWUtuzJy26MBMiuBpI2A2n/s1600/caraceni_thumbnail.jpg"></a><br /><br /><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div>Given a name synonymous with an elite group of institutions bearing proud traditions of sporting and scholarly excellence, Domenico Caraceni's Ivy League certainly has a lot to live up to. naturally I expect a fragrance that is youthfully 'preppy' yet conveys a certain sense of tradition.</div><br /><div>Ivy League opens briskly on my skin with bitter citrus, gradually softening to a sparkling blend of light white florals that retains enough of its green soapy profile to keep its sillage freshly-preppy and away from 'mature women' territory. There is also the occasional hint of earthy vetiver roots reminiscent of Dior's Eau Sauvage - faint at first but gaining prominence as the florals recede. Projection and sillage are both tastefully moderate, with just a touch of sweetness in the earthy musk drydown.</div><br /><div>While I do wish for the citrus soap element to last longer, in terms of concept Ivy League delivers. Yes, the opening may come across somewhat detergent-like to some but the fragrance development itself is as exhilarating as a road trip with your college buddies. I also think Ralph Lauren would kill to have this formula - Ivy League would have been an outstanding addition to the Polo family! </div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><br /><br /><br /></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Diamondflamehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11871791027095496674noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1661652888828616771.post-85212170007111365482010-08-03T01:53:00.007+08:002010-08-08T00:56:28.013+08:00By Kilian: Back to Black<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrWKd9BY8kNkK703emJUiqib575YlSnlrJ8bwT5cTpsnCFZsuyAR8j3MT7WgDDuL6KL0SZAlmnd1xp3wiRtYk2y9ob7lvNhv7XVRalxIjruXgrlqOIQcgB8xYEQnsgZeUziYG1rN_VNphy/s1600/Back+to+Black.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 256px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500875919425268898" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrWKd9BY8kNkK703emJUiqib575YlSnlrJ8bwT5cTpsnCFZsuyAR8j3MT7WgDDuL6KL0SZAlmnd1xp3wiRtYk2y9ob7lvNhv7XVRalxIjruXgrlqOIQcgB8xYEQnsgZeUziYG1rN_VNphy/s320/Back+to+Black.jpg" /></a><br /><div>I love Amy Winehouse's Back to Black and by that association alone I'm probably prone to wax lyrical about one of Calice Becker's more recent addition to the By Kilian line. But is this scent worthy of the lines devoted to it in many of the perfume blogs? The short answer is 'YES'.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>The opening is bittersweet and fleetingly smoky, with hints of dark cherries and rum-soaked woods. References to 'cherry liqueur' are not too far off base for it does seem redolent of cask-aged liqueur.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>As seconds pass into minutes, it gets warmer and syrupier with cardamom, ginger and spices lightly woven into the sweet benzoin-and-honey based tapestry. At this point the composition could have easily turned into a gourmand gingerbread-type of scent if not for the distinctively rendered and rather distinguishing note of cured unsmoked tobacco leaves. The juxtaposition of a dark and, I might add, masculine element with the warm golden glow of honey works brilliantly, producing an intoxicatingly rich scent that is warm and comforting yet oddly intriguing - it invites the nose to get very close to the skin and explore. Rather sensual indeed. Perhaps that's why Back to Black is also called 'Aphrodisiac'.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>To my mind Back to Black is not so much of a fragrance than it is an experience. It serenades me in the language of the five senses, of dark rich colors and luxurious fabrics, of clinking cognac glasses and soulful jazz, of deeply lingering tastes and intoxicating scents. While I'm not fully convinced of its versatility as a wearable oriental, I can appreciate why it is regarded by some as a true By Kilian masterpiece. </div>Diamondflamehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11871791027095496674noreply@blogger.com1