Cacharel pour L'Homme
Cacharel (1981)

A fashionably pronounced nutmeg whiff, wrapped in floral and zesty citruses that bounce on an earthy woody base comprised of cool fir, sharp cedar, and a tasty vetiver, crinkled in moss, amber and musk that collectively summon the phantom drift of an oily suede fume emanating from a spicy bed of flowers, particularly carnation and geranium... Truly, a beguiling beauty from the great Gerard Goupy and custom made for a seasoned gent!

Cacharel Pour Homme seems to be one of the more misunderstood of male-marketed 80s fragrances. The understated masculine elegance is a stark contrast to the muscled powerhouses fueling the market at the time of its release. No leather, no civet, only mildly musky, Pour L'Homme sought to perpetuate the heritage of the well-groomed and well-heeled man. Gerard Goupy, known for his contributions with Lancome (Balafre, Climat, Magie Noire) exhibited his artful restraint here, choosing to accentuate an aura through aromatics, most notably nutmeg. It is this nutmeg, warm, dry and woody, that ties the elements together. The bright bergamot settles into supporting florals, discreetly, including a sheer, yet ripe ylang ylang and a dianthus-pink carnation accord.

An aura, not a cloud, a mood that isn't necessarily an attitude. Not that I would ever scoff at clouds and attitudes; they have their place and I love to indulge in them. Pour L'Homme is perfect for spring, a midway between frost and humidity—breezy and tactile, yet its transparency doesn't stifle. Its creamy, floral, woody dry down would appeal to those who favor compositions from Jean Claude Ellena, particularly in his Hermessence series. I must point out the comparison between both the 90s and more recent formulations I have: the former is a bit more full-bodied, while the latter is more nutmeg-forward and subdued, but still lovely.

I must also point out that I love the way the nutmeg merges into the vetiver far into the dry down. I am endlessly thrilled with how various notes and accords interact with each other, the eclipses, the transitions. It's so stimulating to the nose to tune into the development of fragrance and note how the scent molecules behave over time.

I wore this in the early 90s, bought in Paris when I discovered Cacharel men's accessories in my first trip to Paris: ties, handkerchiefs, and fragrance, all found at Galarie Lafayette. It reminds my of that era in my life. I just bought another bottle, it has changed a bit but not enough to change the memories. I'm back in my tiny NYC apartment, reveling in a Paris memory.

Which perfumes do you recognise from their heyday?
Eau Sauvage? Opium? Fahrenheit?
How about Cacharel pour l’Homme from 1981?
It’s well made, distinctive and coherent, but it has a major flaw – it’s built around nutmeg and not much else.
It’s like a tune with a catchy riff - which everybody knows but nobody listens to any more.
And in the same way, I bet many who wore Cacharel pour l'Homme in the 80’s don’t wear it anymore, no matter how good it seemed back then.
A less gimmicky, and arguably, less distinctive perfume is Antaeus (1981) which has grown out of its niche on the gay scene to rumble on with a small but general following.
This ability to go beyond place and time is a quality that the bold, but less nuanced Cacharel pour l’Homme doesn’t have. It was a big hit in its day, but it didn't last.
And the reason for that is, unlike a perennial classic like Kouros (also 1981) which - thanks to its conservative structure - is a fixed star in the heavens, Cacharel pour l’Homme was a flash in the pan, a shooting star that burned bright for a season but died when the gimmick got stale.
These days, Cacharel pour l’Homme is a marginal perfume, and rightly so: it was one of the first perfume jingles.
I mean, who wants to smell of nutmeg all day?

Flashback! A welcome journey back to my late teens when I was wearing the original formulation. I was always told that I was born in the wrong era as I wore retro fashion and older gentleman type fragrances such as Cacharel and Geo F Trumper Wild Fern. For a period of 10 years I stopped wearing any fragrances. Over the past 4 months I have embarked on a fragrance journey of discovery, thanks to reviewers like Ash @ GentsScents. I started with some modern examples like YSL Y, Versace Dylan Blue & Tom Ford. Then I remembered Cacharel and the feeling I got when I put it on. This formulation is less potent and I am glad. The initlal opening can be a little austere and abrasive. But persevere because after around 10-15 minutes it will sit closer to you and make you feel all warm and cosy like a soft blanket. This is a classic, elegant scent with all the things I love - spice (nutmeg), wood, citrus, green notes. Massively underrated and this shows by how few video reviews you will find online. I do find most of the modern fragrances have become too sweet and fruit driven. Very unisex. Nothing wrong with that if you want to please others. But if you want to treat yourself to a timeless classic that will grow and grow on you? Then I highly recommend this fragrance. Quel bonheur

Cacharel pour L'Homme (1981) is the masculine follow-up to the popular Anais Anais (1978) originally commissioned by Cacharel founder Jean Bousquet from L'Oréal to give the house a presence in the perfume market. What makes Cacharel pour L'Homme most interesting is it took an entirely different direction than other major designer masculines of the year like Yves Saint Laurent Kouros (1981), Bijan for Men (1981), or Chanel Antaeus (1981), by being soft-spoken. Make no mistake, this is still very much an "uber-masculine" fragrance that fits right in with early 80's tropes, but unlike the others, takes a markedly drier and more-discreet approach to the same goal. Cacharel pour L'Homme comes in a bottle with an affixed spray head that makes the whole thing look like a whiskey flask, a vibe seemingly borrowed from Speidel-Textron's British Sterling (1965), and is adorned with "pour L'Homme" in flowing silver script. Older bottles have a duck on them since the word "cacharel" literally describes a variety of the bird local to Nîmes in France, where the company was founded by Bousquet. Mostly, I think Bousquet took a "high road" approach to making this fragrance, because it feels very conservative in design, and not waiting with baited breath to whip out its virility and slap everyone with it like most powerhouses released in 1981. Men looking for their "game" to speak for itself rather than have their fashion sense do the talking wore this.

Gerard Goupy of Givaudan was brought in by L'Oréal to work on Cacharel pour L'Homme due to his experience working with masculines for Lancôme, in particular his involvement with making Balafre (1967), but these scents don't share anything else besides perfumer. The opening is stark lemon oil and bergamot mixed with some dry lavender, clary sage, and nutmeg. The nutmeg is of the utmost importance here because it stays around until the end, so you better like it or this is not for you. Eventually a tiny bit of ylang-ylang and clove oil enter the picture, drawing some comparisons to Jacomo de Jacomo (1980) without the smoke, while the nutmeg reminds me of a less-brutal take on what Bijan for Men was after, toned down further by stark florals of muguet and cyclamen. The base merges with the nutmeg carrying over into the dry down, combining it with pine, cedar, sandalwood, and oakmoss with a pinch of vetiver. From here, I get a tug-of-war between something like Aqua di Selva by Victor (1949) and the later Dunhill Edition (1984). The whole thing is very austere, masculine to the max, but not boisterous at all. Wear time is 8+ hours and projection calms in an hour, but sillage will trail all day. Cacharel pour L'Homme gives me classic wet shaving vibes but also could work in an office too, plus outdoors for a hike. Guys into the ultra-woody and completely unsweet pencil shavings vibe will dig this for sure, although don't expect the usual loudness just because this stuff is from the 80's.

The make or break factor here, as many have mentioned before me and many will undoubtedly mention after, is the omnipresence of nutmeg from start to finish. I love Bijan for Men, and this is a much easier-to-wear version of that same idea, so I'm on board with Cacharel pour l'Homme myself, but the strict ascetic woody mossy base also makes this a lot less fun than Bijan as well. All the other masculine powerhouses of the day were in tight jean shorts with bulges clearly visible, wearing those abs-showing crop tops guys could get away with back then, v-neck full of pectorals and crazy hairspray quaffs crowning a pair of big soulless wrap-around blue-blocker sunglasses like they've had one too many fast times at Ridgemont High. Cacharel pour L'Homme took the opposite approach, being more Gérard Depardieu in the 80's than Tom Cruise. This unwavering conservatism sort of made Cacharel pour L'homme not of its own time then, and serves to make it all the more timeless now, which perhaps explains why it is still on the books while newer masculines from the house are all discontinued. If you're concerned about vintage, there isn't a ton of difference after the nutmeg and woods settle on skin, since this was never an oakmoss bomb to begin with, but older bottles are a tad muskier with higher quantities of indoles from the ylang-ylang. Still, this is a relatively brisk and fresh/dry woody masculine that never goes out of style, in any formulation. Thumbs up.