Perfume Reviews by Varanis Ridari

Portfolio Neroli Canvas by Al Haramain

Portfolio Neroli Canvas by Al Haramain (2018) is part of the Portfolio series of eau de parfums from the Emirati brand, and goes straight for locking horns with the expensive and overhyped Neroli Portofino by Tom Ford (2007). Now don't get me wrong, Rodrigo Flores-Roux does a damn fine neroli accord, one he's found fit to snuggle into many a John Varvatos masculine fragrance, as he was the unofficial go-to perfumer for that house just before JV had a shakeup. The real birth of that accord begins in the much further-upmarket Tom Ford line, and it has almost supplanted all other attempts at a longer-lasting eau de cologne at toilette or parfum strength, mostly on the power of Tom Ford's status alone among the well-heeled. As you might imagine, there are tons of brands, including high quality-to-cost brands from Saudi Arabia and the UAE, all trying to eat ol' Tom's lunch on this one, with Al Haramain being no exception.

It seems Portfolio Neroli Canvas really targets Neroli Portofino Forte by Tom Ford (2016), which is the even stronger version as some did have complaints with the original Neroli Portofino not having enough power. It's the usual overspraying numpties that use weaponized fragrance as a mating call or peacock feathers to ward off competitors who have this problem usually, not rationally-minded Human understanding how anosmia works; so if you want something somehow even stronger than Neroli Portofino Forte, Al Haramain has got your number. This is the singularly most-potent neroli scent I have ever experienced, and it is boosted with lemon and petitgrain, laid upon a thick white musk base, sharpened with some cedar, and given a hedione lift to keep the neroli front and center. This is almost potent to the point of nagging for some, and the closest comparison I can find is the aquatic-tinged Just Free by Luciano Soprani (2004), which is also nuclear in radiance.

I don't really smell any overt synthetic notes, no jagged unpolished lines, and is not as linear as one might expect something like this to be; all of these being wins in my book. Obviously, fragrances with higher credibility like Eau de New York by Bond No. 9 (1998), Castile by Penhaligons (1996), or Mugler Cologne by Thierry Mugler (1999) exist, in addition to a host of clone houses also doing their own Neroli Portofino takes. Ferrari even jumped on the bandwagon then discontinued their effort, creating a brief blip of a value competitor that was hyped into a sad little unicorn that cost more than what it was duping. Some say a lot of houses from the Middle East are clone houses, and there's no denying they do pad out their catalogs with easy-money clones done via GCMS and a little creative care on part of their perfumers, with this being one such effort. I can set my shame aside for 75ml of eau de parfum in a handsome bottle, selling for a price that's actually what most Tom Fords should be retailing for themselves; maybe you can too. Thumbs up

Shuhrah pour Homme by Rasasi

Shuhrah pour Homme by Rasasi (2015) is pretty unique. I'm sure nothing else comes close to this, especially at the prices it sells. Shuhrah also disproves the oft-stated "clone house" nature of many brands from the Middle East, who shamelessly mix in value-oriented recreations of popular niche fragrances for a fraction of their usual retail into their own lines of original products. Problem is, most dumb-dumbs in the Western world never venture beyond the various takes on Creed Aventus (2010) or Tom Ford Tuscan Leather (2007) these brands make in order to each the lunch of overpriced luxury brands based in Europe or the US, and the often vast catalogs of fragrances these brands offer home markets (but also allow for export) never reach the noses of anyone with online reach. Such is the fate of a Shuhrah pour Homme, a virtual unknown in the world of influencer-lead "frag armies" and minion-minded troglodytes bathed in their favorite YouTuber's top ten list suggestions.

The super unique part of this fragrance comes from its somewhat aquatic interaction with rose and tomato leaf, neither of which usually exist in an aquatic context. Mind you, these sort of west-meets-arab-culture mashups also have to hold up to the punishing heat of the Persian Gulf; so not only must the scents be thick and oily, but the accords themselves potent and extroverted not to burn off into anonymity in the high heat. Rose, tomato leaf, aquatic ozone elements, and the odd choice of freesia do just that; any other materials beyond this point just base out these main elements. A dry leather and woodiness permeate the dry down to this effect, with cedarwood, sandalwood, jasmine hedione, incense, and a touch of medicinal agar punching through the musk choices, which straddle clean and a bit sour; yet on the same token I would not claim this as animalic in any meaningful way. Performance is absolutely bananas, so really be careful with this one, and expect people to notice you; I don't think it's possible not to notice something simultaneously green and leafy, floral and aquatic, woody and musky, yet clean all at once.

Shuhrah certainly has hallmarks of traditional Arab perfumery all over it, with the prerequisite oud and rose notes being major players, while the modern occidental elements are not to be overlooked either, as this thing is jam-packed with all the buzzword aromachems you can likely think of, be they boogeymen to avoid, or innovations to praise. Another fatty, phenolic, syrupy, or churchy exercise in rose, oud, incense, amber, or patchouli this is not; so if you're looking for that sort of "rockin' the casbah" sort of vibe, better stick to the attars, or various products from Al Rehab and Montale which present that theme in a spray format. Here we have modern designer-adjacent Arab perfumery using both technology and reverence to cultural authenticity, yet also worldly enough that even a milquetoast shmuck from a sleepy suburb in Indiana whose favorite flavor is mayonnaise can get behind this. For the price asked, I don't really see why more people don't take the plunge. Thumbs up

MYSLF Le Parfum by Yves Saint Laurent

MYSLF Le Parfum by Yves Saint Laurent (2024) is an expected move. Thicker, richer, ooey and gooey, this is the sweet and heavier gourmand-inflected version of the original MYSLF by Yves Saint Laurent (2023) released the previous year, that nobody knew they wanted (or nobody wanted). I was not keen on the original, but I have a softer view on this one, since it turns out that cranking up the ethyl maltol tonka steroids is just what this needed to actually go out into the world and smell like a proper fragrance, not dryer sheets.

I'll keep this short and sweet; you won't like this if you didn't like MYSLF, but you might sit better with it because of the rounding and balancing; and if you did like MYSLF, then you'll probably absolutely love this, since you're in that target market L'Oréal is chasing, where ever more-expensive performance-built club-bangers for the 20 something crowd seem to be the breadwinners of the remaining designer fragrance market. Where this compares favorably, is as a men's counterpart to Libre by Yves Saint Laurent (2019), but I'd just wear Libre instead.

Bottom line here is I miss the days where I could write epic paeans about Yves Saint Laurent releases, how boundary-pushing or novel they were, how subversive or clever with re-inventing an old concept with a new twist, or just being plain but evidently high-quality was okay too, approaching Chanel's level of filigree and finesse. Sadly, that ship about 15 years ago, after the man himself left this world and the all-devouring wyrm that is L'Oréal tossed YSL into a corner like a spoiled brat with a broken toy, sending what remained off to the mines to churn out trend-chasing trash. This is just a slight mark above that din. Neutral

Allure Homme Sport Superleggera by Chanel

Allure Homme Sport Superleggera by Chanel (2024) was a bit of a surprise announcement, to the point people believed it a hoax; the almighty Chanel would never lower themselves to work on a cross-promotion with an unrelated brand. However, times are tight; the richer get richer still, and vast swaths of people form Mad Max-style caravans of improvised shelters because they can't afford homes even on income three times the median, with empty apartments at $3k a pop looking more and more like Monopoly houses sat on properties to increase return on investment when sold from one venture capitalist kraken to another. And amidst it all, brands like Chanel cannot possibly further optimize profits versus costs from the shrinking market they target, so they resort to petty tricks to sell bottles, including limited editions with cross-branding. Despite all this cynicism, the scent works and is quite nice, albeit probably not "the new Chanel masculine" terminally-online fragrance enthusiasts have been clamoring for since the Pandemic. There is no revolution in a bottle here folks, and there honestly never has been for this line, any entries of it.

What we have here is Olivier Polge, inheritor of his father's 40 year dynastic reputation at Parfums Chanel, stretching his legs with a mainstream men's release for the first time since he took over in 2014. It only took him a decade to reach the conclusion that he couldn't work on high-margin Les Exclusifs releases or parfum flankers forever, so he gave us this "Bleu de Allure" reworking of the original Chanel Allure Homme (1999) DNA, tossing in hints of Allure Homme Sport by Chanel (2004); but shedding any aquatic nuances that scent had as ostensible competition for market giant Acqua Di Giò pour Homme by Giorgio Armani (1996), in favor of the grapefruit and zingy woody-amber profile popularized by best-seller Bleu de Chanel (2010). This hybridization seems low-hanging fruit, and it probably is; but again, if you told me that there was a fresh, clean, long-lasting version of Allure Homme with the best parts of the sport line, minus tonka sweetness or obvious citrus, I'd be all over it. Comparisons to the base of Dior Sauvage (2015) will likely also occur thanks to an abundance of ambroxan, norlimbanol, and sharp patchouli isolates, but it isn't a problem here. Performance is also unquestioned here, depsite what the nose-dead oversprayers may tell you across the internet.

So who is this for? Well, by the marketing collaboration with the automotive equivalent of a Supreme logo, and the "strictly limited" nature that is soon to make it the next $800 trophy purchase on eBay, my guess is the same as yours, likely. The usual clout-obsessed types that dress like extras in a mafia movie or compulsively post gym selfies on their fragrance account are probably the main target, and they're just one YouTube breakthrough away from being the next overstimulated fragrance "guru" who thinks they've found God after one spray too many of their sponsored scent of the day. All the good little boys that want to be like their "glorious leader" influencer of choice will probably also drop the $172 for this (most expensive Allure Homme flanker to date by the way), because they were convinced it was made limited for being "too good". Everyone else can pick it up for the collector's itch, or pass until Olivier Polge uses the sales results to determine whether some or all of it will transfer over to a new permanent Allure Homme flanker, or become the Chanel Bois Noir (1987) to a new age Chanel Égoïste (1990); ergo, being re-released mostly unchanged under a different name to start a new line. Either way, Chanel is up to their old trick of probing the market with limited releases, and this one happens to be good. Thumbs up

Psychedelic Love by Initio

Psychedelic Love by Initio (2017) is neither psychedelic, nor particularly lovely, but I don't hate it either. A slightly earlier composition from the house, it has the usual DNA of thick benzoin saffron and sandalwood compounds layered with ethyl maltol and almond-like sweetness that pervades about 80% of their catalog, passed along as "the smell of luxury" to justify the insane price tag, when it's really just the smell of cheap-but-potent base materials wielded with the subtlety of a construction worker using a jackhammer. Still, not the worst Initio by far,as Psychedelic Love at least has a little something left-of-center going on in the heart.

The opening is sweet, with the bergamot ylang-ylang combo instantly overpowered by the caramel sweetness of the almond roca-style base, rose and jasmine mixing with heliotrope. Honestly, the heliotrope just adds to the almond-cookie facets of the perfume and becomes mostly invisible, but the whole thing is sort of saved by the peppery incense in the base, and the halfway-decent sandalwood, amongst all the other nonsense. This contrast of sweet and peppery wood is what keeps Psychedelic Love interesting enough to not just be an instant pass, as with most of the range, although that isn't to say I'd either pay for, or wear this with any intent beyond smelling for a review. Performance is of course, nuclear.

Psychedelic Love feels cut from the same cloth as Initio and by extension, Parfums de Marly, and this is no surprise to anyone familiar with current "niche" luxury swindle scent offerings; it just feels built with a tiny bit more attention to detail than most, and shows potential for something great, even if it's just another thing to blend in with the miasma of Baccarat Rouge 540 by MFFK (2015) that ostensibly inspired basically everything this brand does. If you're a fan of Initio, my words read like nails on a chalkboard; but if you're just dead tired of all these candy aromachem moneypits with weapons-grade performance in place of style, I've just saved you the effort. Not bad, but not noteworthy. Neutral

Songes à Fleurs by Darren Alan

Songes à Fleurs by Darren Alan (2024) is a very old-school 1970's "yellow" floral as I like to call them, in a style not often pursued by designers or grand French houses like Guerlain or Caron at the time; but it is something more akin to what Avon, Mary Kay, Revlon, Matchabelli, Charles of the Ritz, or Elizabeth Arden was putting on drug store shelves and in the order-bags of sales representatives. I say this full well as a compliment, because designer chypres of that period were all about being bitterly green and stemmy, or cold white light floral treatments that read as "boss lady", because the en vogue thing was to be obstinately independent in demeanor (for women), while men's designs were headed down the he-man knuckle-dragger or big-belt-buckle brawler route. Standing next to those, these idyllic and bucolic odes to fields of wildflowers sold at the entry level seemed naive in their attempt at being friendly and demur. Still, there is something about them.

The opening of Songes à Fleurs really takes me back to something like Field Flowers by Avon (1974) with it's golden aldehydes and sweet citrus over muguet and carnation. Rose and jasmine fill in the spaces classically, while gardenia and heliotrope also set up this "wildflower" accord that almost reminds me somewhat of marigolds in a tangential way. Orange blossom sweetens the whole arrangement, while genet (not to be confused with the animal), is a small yellow shrub that imparts a warmth to the composition. The base should be familiar to fans of the house by now, as it rides in a classic chypre vein, with oakmoss and sandalwood, tonkin musk, vetiver and a mousse de saxe accord, the "good stuff" for vintage aficionados that still blame chemicals ambroxan or calone for bringing about the end times. I save the yelling at the usual "I know what I like and I like what I know, you know" types for another time; but we can all agree tin foil hat or not that this is really good, right?

Overall, this is a classic floral chypre of a type that was once way more common than most these days would know, as time and ever-quickening trend (along with production cycles) have churned and paved over cultural memory of even twenty years ago for many terminally-online people nowadays. If you go beyond the first dozen or so links worth of Google search, or actually, I don't know, pick up a physical book sometime or watch a movie made in the 20th century, you might know that things like Charlie by Revlon (1973) were once de rigeur in women's fragrance, and this is a really top-quality homage to the theme of those fragrances. That isn't to say Songes à Fleurs is copying anything, as Darren Alan hasn't really had experience with any fragrances I've mentioned prior to him composing this scent, he's just so spot-on with his own knowledge of perfume composition history that he just knew how to reach the same conclusion as perfumers fifty years ago. Thumbs up

No. 5 L'Eau by Chanel

No. 5 L'Eau by Chanel (2016) is one of the more-popular flankers of the original Chanel No. 5 (1921) released over a century beforehand, and uses the "cleaned up" recomposed DNA that has been the signature of the best-selling eau de parfum for some time. Gone are the big musks and golden, endless aldehydes from the core structure of No. 5, and in their place are more-measured aldehydes with cleaner musk choices, as Chanel has refined its olfactive signature towards being impossibly over--finessed and smoothed over the years. If you enjoy that current version of the original No. 5 instead of clamoring for myriad vintages of various provenance and condition on eBay, you'll likely also enjoy this lightened, freshened version, liked by the sales associate who showed it to me as "clean linen in the No. 5 style".

The biggest shift away from No. 5 present here is the focus towards being more of a citrus cologne-style fragrance than an aldehyde chypre, and it shows with the increased suffusion of lemon and mandarin throughout the aldehyde rose core. Jasmine and ylang lighten and build body, the former likely more hedione than actual absolute to my nose, until the woody chypre base of No. 5 asserts itself, sans the thick musk or orris. Vetiver plays a bigger role in L'Eau than the original, while cedar tags out sandalwood and takes its place, building on top a clean laundry musk underpadding that will be the biggest shocker to traditional, classic French perfume (or vintage styles in general), as it reads thoroughly sheer, and thus thoroughly modern. Performance is light but persistent throughout, and No. 5 L'Eau is more unisex than many others from the line.

Ultimately, if you wanted the Chanel No. 5 equivalent to something like Allure Homme Sport Cologne (2007). then this is it; a lighter, fresher, suggestively more summery take on the modern form of the original No. 5 made for people who are still committed to this grand dame in the 21st century. Just as with Guerlain Shalimar (1925), I am still baffled at how much love this fragrance still gets from younger people, as culture has shifted to ever faster and shorter-lived viral micro-trends supported by the warp-speed cultural meat-grinder that is the social media on the internet. Chanel No.5 itself has not endured without some change itself, but maybe the fact it endures at all is one of the most attractive selling-points about it; there's safety in that unmoving presence in fashion, and now you have a chic, high-heat variant of it. Thumbs up

A*Men Fantasm by Thierry Mugler

A*Men Fantasm by Thierry Mugler (2024) is a modern reworking of the original Angel Men/A*Men by Thierry Mugler (1996), reuniting the original's perfumer with the line he helped launch (Jacques Huclier), while adding current-day high-demand perfumer Louise Turner to the mix. This feels greatly like a retread, and that's because it is. More or less this is an attempt to modernize and deconstruct the original men's gourmand scent, simplifying it to the core elements, and then back-filling with heavy woody-amber materials to make it up to current punch-over-personality standards in the designer segment. Not much remarkable here aside from the price hike placed on the bottle.

As a staunch enjoyer of the original A*Men, I really had hoped this brought something new to the table, but all A*Men Phantasm really does is sweeten the original with a big old fat slug of chocolate, dialing down the original's love-or-hate coffee note in favor of it, and add a slightly peppery top note to merge with a citrus blend opening. From there, it's the sclarene note making the rounds from Hermès h24 (2021) and Paco Rabanne Phantom (2021), merged with heaps of woody-amber notes, lending a scratchiness to the doughy patchouli isolate that also replaces the more full-bodied patchouli of the original A*Men.

If you care about performance, this will do; but for my tastes, a scent like this gets very linear quite quickly, and becomes a boring, never-ending slog of cocoa, patchouli, and amplified scratch with sweetness trying to hold it all together. You can vaguely feel the original A*Men lurking in the shadows, although hardcore fans of the range to date will surely be angered by such a cheap-but-not-cheerful construction designed to give maximum return on minimum investment, the hallmark of late-stage corporate ghoul oligarchy we still vainly call capitalism. Buy this if you're a collector only, otherwise I say safe to skip. Neutral

Mahogany Teakwood by Bath and Body Works

Mahogany Teakwood by Bath and Body Works (2015) began life as a simple body spray and then spread out into an assortment of shower and body care products like most things from the brand Bath & Body Works, until finally getting a proper eau de toilette release several years later. This is darker, and more barbershop than the related Teakwood by Bath & Body Works (2017) but is not a replacement for Mahogany Woods by Bath & Body Works (2014) from the year before, so take heed. This is the closest thing to a modern re-telling of the 1980's and 1990's fresh fougère, having some of the sheer musks and overall abstraction of things made within the 21st century, while retaining classic olfactive lines from the previous century. This is of course a surprise turn from a brand I have not found much favor with over the years, and a rare turn of excellence at a good price.

The opening has a sort of "frosted" lavender note, mixed with geranium to establish the sense of classic fresh fougère style, with "mahogany" coming in the form of a judiciously-applied amount of cashmeran and woody-ambers, typical deal-breakers in the dosage most designers tend to use them. Funny, that a discount mall fragrance brand actually knows how to blend these high-powered materials into their cheapie fragrance lines better than houses which sell their scents for triple the amount, and develop them with what I assume is a higher budget; I suppose not in this case. The rest of Mahogany Woods is vetiver, cedar, verimoss standing in for the real deal oakmoss, white musks, and generally a clean groomed soapiness that runs throughout rather pleasantly. Performance is middle of the road as expected, but you can always layer on the other products.

Personally, I haven't liked a Bath & Body Works scent this much since I last owned a bottle of "Canyon Cologne" from them way back, when everything for men used to come in frosted blue glass bottles. I'm not saying go nuts and run immediately out for a bottle of this, as Mahogany Teakwood is a nice a life-changing, revelatory, must-have sort of fragrance that will make the usual perfumista spoiled for choice pine and hem for an opportunity to spray themselves orgasmically in front of a YouTube camera, or anything quite that dramatic besides. However, if it's convenient and you want a good fresh grooming scent the likes of which used to be common in drug stores or places like Sears 30 or so years ago (with a slight modern update), you can't go wrong. There's a nice candle version of this too called Mahogany Teakwood Intense that's worth checking out, too, Thumbs up

Musgo Real No. 1 Orange Amber by Claus Porto

Musgo Real No. 1 Orange Amber by Claus Porto (2007) is the first of a new expansion of the original Musgo Real by Claus Porto (1935) into a separate men's fragrance and grooming line. A rather basic, orange-topped powdery barbershop musk, Orange Amber couldn't be more simple and straightforward, and that's part of its charm. Fans of the original Musgo Real from the 1930's need to tread with caution however, as this has little to nothing in common with the DNA of that scent, and feels more like something that could have been released in the 1960's or 1970's, when a lot of nitromusk-fueled barbershop things were in drugstores across the world, at least in Europe and the US.

The opening orange really reminds me more of orange blossom than the fruit, in that it's sweet and redolent of jasmine with indoles of its own and a bit of body like ylang. This quickly transitions to a powdery-creamy musk base with an old-fashioned amber profile, with musk ketone-like creaminess and a sliver of soap. There is a pinch of spice here too, like a small pinch of cumin to assert "man smell" without coming across like tacos or underarm odor as it can when pushed up over the top of the profile. Something like Musgo Real No. 1 Orange Amber is not for the person wanting a sheer ambroxan-led shower gel experience, and it should be noted you'll smell a bit anachronistic or "post-modern" if you prefer, wearing this. Performance in the projection department is also the Achilles heel of this range, but that's to say nothing of the impressive longevity.

The old-school Badger & Blade types, or the fans of "dad's aftershave" vibes will certainly get along with Orange Amber, and anyone fancying themselves the lead actor in their very own noir thriller will also enjoy a scent like this, plus its associated shaving and bath range (because of course it has one). A simple pleasure of a fragrance with a no-fuss/no-muss demeanor, anyone considering themselves a connoisseur of perfume-as-art men's fragrances looking to feign orgasms in front of a YouTube camera - as their "perfume journey" manifests live in front of a stream audience - will undoubtedly find this and most Musgo Real products too simple or boring to investigate. Those of us who enjoy our old wet shaving smells and the "simpler days" before powerhouses or obtuse statements of virility, are right at home here. Thumbs up

L'Insoumis by Lalique

L'Insoumis by Lalique (2016) wasn't and still isn't a very popular fragrance in Lalique's masculine lineup, which may be why it seems all 100ml bottles are just about dried up in the market outside of resellers asking for too much money, and the remaining 50ml bottles seem plentiful and heavily discounted. Like Hommage à L'Homme by Lalique (2011), this one is likely killed off and remaining inventory is being sold through while Lalique focuses more on Encre Noir by Lalique (2006) and its many flankers, which seem to do really well. Sad, because while this isn't the most revelatory thing ever released (nor are most Laliques), it is quite good and strange, which seems to be the way Lalique likes 'em. Fabrice Pellegrin penned this one, and it has very astutely been compared to the later B-612 by Nishane (2018) which I loathe, and the much-older Straight to Heaven By Killian (2007), due to the rum note. The much more commercial L'Insoumis Ma Force (2018) flanker would seem to do better with the target market than this one, showing once again that samey, risk-adverse fragrance is the foreseeable future in this space until a crash occurs.

Neither comparisons are wholly accurate, but I give them nods all the same for their piecemeal assessment of specific facets found here in L'Insoumis, which is altogether the more interesting and complex fragrance between the three, and the best. The bold claim of reinventing the lavender fougère for the modern era is a bit unfulfilled here, although I can tell that this is a definite twist in the structure. The sweet rum note mixes up with aromatic basil before the lavender fougère fireworks go off, followed by vetiver, patchouli, tonka, and the "Clearwood" captive from Firmenich that Lalique felt confident enough about to advertise being in the fragrance itself, providing some woody nuances. Bits of clary sage and black pepper build out the aromatic backbone of L'Insoumis while the sweet rum note is just sticky enough to keep this scent from smelling like lavender scrubbing powder. B-612 on the other hand goes full metallic and grating, so I can't abide its presence around me. L'Insoumis feels like a more artistic response to Dior Sauvage (2015), with good but moderate performance, and a similar spiky lavender as the later Prada Luna Rossa Carbon (2017). Rounded, clean, and vaguely fougère is this.

Some compare this to the scent of artificial grape, and while I definitely can see why they may say that with the way the lavender materials interact with the sweeter elements, I don't think this has quite the "grape" punch of many violet or neroli materials used by brands such as Jacques Bogart in its Silver Scent (2006) or others of that ilk. If you've smelled anything from the 2000's playing with violet accords mixed with neroli, or anything in a purple bottle, then you know exactly what I mean. For me this is a keeper, as it's chic and modern in all the right ways I want something abstract like this to be when I wear it out to a bar or restaurant, while avoiding being too childishly cloying or attention-seeking like many competitors flying the same flag colors but with a much-more desperate, frantic hand. Since this one is on the chopping block, if you can't get a good deal on it, then just pass along to the next, as there is absolutely nothing about L'Insoumis that screams "gotta have", and it certainly isn't worth paying "collector's money" for it. In fact, if you go much above maybe $80USD, you're being taken for a fool. Shame this never really caught on. Thumbs up

Light Blue Summer Vibes pour Homme by Dolce & Gabbana

Light Blue Summer Vibes pour Homme by Dolce & Gabbana (2023) is coming back for a second year, because I guess with the overall downturn in creative risks taken and rapid rise of globalist consumerism, it just doesn't make sense to issue another limited seasonal flanker when the previous year's entry is still around and sells well. Serving for both 2023 and 2024 so far, this edition of the best-selling Dolce & Gabbana Light Blue pour Homme (2007) features Alberto Morillas phoning in a mostly-orange creamsickle amberwoody thing, that's actually better than I make that sound, with a neat "china plate" bottle design.

A bit darker of a scent compared to other Light Blue flankers, the Summer Vibes edition has shades of Hugo Reversed by Hugo Boss (2018), cK All by Calvin Klein (2017), and Fragrance One: Office for Men by Jeremy Fragrance (2019), which are all within the Alberto Morillas wheelhouse. Likely yet another mod or bash of pre-fab accords (per his assembly line specialty), Summer Vibes at least has smoothness and wearability that some of those do not. I liken that to the use of lemon, orange, and patchouli melted into a slightly-creamed white musk tonka profile with Paradisone, vetiver, and amberwood. The "cypress" note listed is some other chemical material, and the usual ambroxan backfill offers the fresh projection off skin.

Something so clearly done on the quick usually garners a few points deducted from me, but Summer Vibes proves to be more than the sum of its parts, and could also serve as a cheaper alternative to Parfums de Marly Galloway (2014), which is among the earliest (and most expensive) representative of this current style. Really, Dolce & Gabbana Light Blue pour Homme Summer Vibes hearkens back to things like Hugo Boss in Motion (2002) or Happy for Men by Clinique (1999), just with a thicker modern "amberwoods" dry down since that's what all the tweens and compliment bros want in 2023, and 2024. Thumbs up

XX Intense by John Varvatos

XX Intense by John Varvatos (2024) capitalizes on the success of the original XX by John Varvatos (2020), itself a fragrance that borrowed heavily from Paco Rabanne Invictus (2013), at least in the opening. The erstwhile XX spawned its own sub-range with flankers, and has more or less taken over as the flagship for the range, in the wake of parting from longtime perfumer Rodrigo Flores-Roux some years ago. XX Intense is not much more interesting, perhaps other than factoring in some extra weirdness with cyclamen, damascone (rose odorant) in the heart, and upping the "picklewood" sandalwood compound found in trace amounts in the original XX. Some of Alien Man by Thierry Mugler (2018) also seems grafted on too. Bang 'em out by Friday, we gotta make the numbers before the end of the quarter, gentlemen.

Some people compare this heavily to Valentino Uomo Born In Roma Coral Fantasy by Valentino (2022) or the discontinued Polo Red Extreme by Ralph Lauren (2017), and that brings some heat to the reception of the fragrance, as it can typically be had as a cheaper replacement for either on the discounter circuit online. If you're the kind of bottom-feeding type still looking for "chic magnet" recommendations in 2024 from self-serving narcissist YouTubers spraying 33 shots of Xerjoff Naxos (2015) to the forehead (while screaming "power" at the camera), this might be something for you. Otherwise, I think we have another pass here, even for longtime Varvatos fans. Performance is okay, and this is not more extreme than the original XX at all. If you wear this, you will merge with the collective sillage of the metro bus you're riding on the way to work.

The only thing kinda of cool here is the cracked black and red pattern bottle, which makes XX Intense look like some sort of evil artifact from a Dungeons & Dragons campaign; like this is something you would drink or wear around your neck to transform into a dragon that goes on a village-burning rampage, with 33 sprays of Naxos in his claw, screaming "power" in a horrifyingly-deep voice as another village roasts into oblivion. Wish I could buy just the bottle, and then fill it. So much for chick magnets, and so much for another wholly-unnecessary designer compliment-mongering drivel release that will be shilled by influencers today, then forgotten about tomorrow; that is of course, until it is discontinued and becomes a "hidden gem". Let me off this ride, please. Thumbs down

Long Kiss Goodnight by Chris Collins

Long Kiss Goodnight by Chris Collins (2022) is the most trope-obvious perfume of the collection thus far, but also one of the best, somehow. This is an almost-straightforward rose oud tandem that is unintentionally named after one of the most low-key classic spy action movies of the 90's (the one with Geena Davis and Samuel L Jackson). The rose oud here is inflected with peony like what is found in Lost in Paradise by Chris Collins (2022), while a touch of incense and coffee brings it more in line with a Mancera oud, which is an obvious nod since Chris himself is a collector and enthusiast. The Harlem theme feels all but completely absent here, but my take is this "Anima" range within the Chris Collins line is meant to be more-exotic anyhow.

The opening right away blasts with "rose oud", but we're dealing with a centifolia rose instead of the usual Turkish variety, meaning the rose feels brighter, more dewy and fresh. The peony assists further to that effect, veering just shy of candied, as the incense and coffee kick in and remind me of something like Lady Vengeance by Juliette Has a Gun (2006). Of course, Francis Kurkdjian made that fragrance, and would use centifolia rose again in his own creations under MFK, so this is a more-subtle nod to Chris' collector roots than just obviously leapfrogging off his favorite By Killian, CDG, or Xerjoff fragrances like he did in the past. Again, a very well-worn trope, but executed in a way that is more stand-apart than smell-alike, so kudos to Collins for learning the ropes of the market better. Performance is outstanding

Like any rose oud, if you don't like the genre, you won't like this; so a review in detail of the perfume is only necessary if you're a genre fan and trying to separate the wheat from the chaff. At $180 for 50ml, there are just too many other better-priced options from both Mancera and Montale, plus a whole host of other brands from the Persian Gulf, that I do not need to ever consider this one, unless the bottle landed in my lap for the price of a song. That said, I won't ding this one for the value proposition (or lack thereof), that has been with this high-priced low-volume department store luxury brand since the beginning, with Sephora being the latest additional outlet to get your hands on what Collins has been doing since 2017. Just take it with a grain of salt. Thumbs up

Lost In Paradise by Chris Collins

Lost In Paradise by Chris Collins (2022) is a breath of fresh air, no pun intended, compared to most of the range I've tried so far. Yeah, it sorta ditches some of the "born of Harlem" tropes found in earlier releases, as that is the basis for the house overall; but it brings in a much-needed deviation from heavy aromatics, ambers, or gourmands that dominated the range in its earlier years. That said, much of what's here can also be equated to an Estée Lauder or Replica perfume, so it's not to be said that Lost in Paradise is wholly unique; just that it seems a cut above what I've smelled thus far from the range founded by former Vogue male model Chris Collins.

Lost in Paradise leans more feminine than anything, although lovers of things like Virgin Island Water by Creed (2007). Tahitian Waters by English Laundry (2013), or Soleil Blanc by Tom Ford (2018) will find some favor here as well. Of those, the English Laundry is the best value in price per ml, but the "Goldilocks phenomenon" goes right to Chris Collins in this bout, since you don't have to pay $475 for 100ml like Creed, or even worse at $300 ml for the Tom Ford. The opening is very fruity-floral with rose, peony, and passion fruit notes, a coconut water accord recalling the Creed and some salty bits later into the dry down that makes Lost in Paradise its own thing. If you can weather those fruity floral tropical cocktail drink notes, you're in good hands after.

The confusing part here is the video Chris made introducing his brand to Sephora indicates Jerome Epinette made this fragrance, although sources across the web don't attribute a perfumer at all. Either way, this is part of the newer "Anima" collection from the house, and that collection is proving so far to be the winning ticket for me, even though I'm not convinced any Chris Collins fragrance is worth that stiff retail price for just 50ml of juice, without some huge original or ingeniously-creative wow-factor, something I can get from any independent perfumer selling at the same price point per ml, like Darren Alan or similar. Thumbs up

Sweet Taboo by Chris Collins

Sweet Taboo by Chris Collins (2019) is another attempt at "punching up" at fragrances of higher prestige that seem to be collection favorites to eponymous house founder Chris Collins. The brand formed in 2017 to celebrate black culture and the cultural heritage of Harlem is a bit hit or miss in the way it tries to evoke that historical imagery; but it's impossible to be anything more than another luxury also-ran chomping at the bit of the nouveau-riche coinpurse when you make fragrances that fall right in line with the likes of By Killian, Cartier, Bvlgari, and now with Sweet Taboo, Xerjoff. George Zaharoff Chris Collins is not, and it goes without saying that the few hits from this brand I've found (in spite of the egregious pricing) are the ones that pull their inspiration from more-esoteric sources than the Nordstrom perfume department fragrance shelves.

This particular scant is a gourmand heavily based on the "Coffee Break" collection from Xerjoff, focusing mostly on Golden Moka from Xerjoff (2018), which released just a year before. Considering the proximity of release, I'd suspect this may be based on an unused mod from that brief, finessed and coaxed by esteemed perfumer Nathalie Feisthauer. Biggest differences between Golden Moka and this, is the heavy-handed focus on cardamom here over the coffee note, and the blending away from musk towards benzoin, vanilla, and clary sage. This is so much in that vein it almost reminds me of a hand lotion or sun tan lotion I smelled, which is a disquieting comparison to say the least. Performance is cloying, so I would not use this in summer despite the sun tan lotion analog, or else you'll be in a for a bad time. Expect all-day longevity from this one.

Ultimately, the price proposition of $180 for 50ml is a better deal than Xerjoff, so in some ways people might see this as a budget-friendlier alternative to Golden Moka; I personally don't think either of them represent much value because I'm just not a fan of this style, and to each their own in that regard. I'll refrain from a thumbs down because I don't see any qualitative or compositional flaws in the work here, just differences in taste and disagreements in market placement for the range in general, giving credit where it is due for the unique theming of the house, the diversity it represents, and the tidy appearance of the presentation. I just wish the Chris Collins range overall took more risks, and really brought something unmistakably "Harlem" to the table. A tired luxury trope is still a tired luxury trope no matter the intentions. Neutral.

African Rooibos by Chris Collins

African Rooibos by Chris Collins (2021) is a definite original among the lot of fragrances from the brand I've smelled thus far. That said, I can still tell it has its roots in other perfumes, per Collin's own admitted fragrance collector/aficionado status. The brand formed to celebrate Harlem and black culture takes us to the African continent with African Rooibos, a tea that I actually enjoy drinking myself. Here, that tea accord seems based heavily on the work of both Pierre Bourdon and Jean-Claude Ellena, students of the late Edmond Roudnitska.

The accord forming the rooibos smells seems based mostly on the structures of Cartier Déclaration (1998) by Ellena, and Collection Homme: Thé Brun by Jean-Charles Brosseau (2005), composed by Bourdon. The latter of the two is a real deep cut of a perfume, so kudos for that inspiration being brought to the fore with African Rooibos, a perfume more modern enthusiasts hooked on influencers and YouTube are likelier to smell than it. The rest of African Rooibos is really all about spices, immortelle, vetiver, and cedarwood, melding the tea accord in a such a way that it does remind somewhat also of Eau Parfumée au Thé Rouge by Bvlgari (2006), which is an Olivier Polge composition.

All told, Sidone Lancesseur (who Chris Collins brought over due to her work with By Killian) produces something rare and noteworthy within the oversaturated luxury "niche" spaces with African Rooibos; it gives the impression of rooibos tea, but the woods, vetiver, spices, and rounded tonka profile make it so much more than that. While some of the other entries into this line seem a bit too derivative and overpriced to catch and hold my attention longterm, I will reiterate that the culture on display here is top-notch, and something sorely lacking in today's overly-Eurocentric niche perfume industry. Thumbs up

Danse Sauvage by Chris Collins

Danse Sauvage by Chris Collins (2017) feels a bit on-the-nose really, as former fashion model Chris Collins had a known love of fragrances from By Killian, and clearly based this one off of that love. In an instant, you can tell this is an homage to By Killian Straight to Heaven (2007), and it is no surprise that he was invited to visit Killian Hennessy himself subsequently, to collaborate on scent further. Instead of perfume Sidonie Lancesseur, we get the unknown Marie Patricia Hurel, who pulls the style of Straight to Heaven towards an oilier patchouli mix, so much it almost turns into a head shop. If a darker, rawer, much spicier version of this scent is what you want, keep reading.

This opens with rum and fruit notes, not altogether unlike Harlem Nights by Chris Collins (2017), but swap out the CDG-style finish for the Killian-style one instead. I get when you're a fan of fragrances you tend to show your inspirations clearly in your own creations; but like many Navitus perfumes coming down the pipe with involvement from many influencers on YouTube, this one wears its stripes a little too plainly for comfort. Once we move into the amber/vanilla/oud/patchouli phase, the latter really wins out, and in time, this becomes a very heavy sweetened patchouli fragrance with a dark streak, like Rasasi or someone else took a shot at Straight to Heaven, with half the materials budget.

None of this would be a bad thing if this was a $60 perfume at 50ml getting close to the golden ratio of $1 per ml of fluid, the best balance of bang for buck qualitatively speaking. Since it's not, all I can say is buy into this brand if you believe in the work of the owner, since it has a good heritage theme behind it, and frankly something we need to see more often in this high-end perfume space; or buy into the brand because you're just a fan of the man himself, or are just really picking up what he's putting down. I was never a big lover of By Killian or this particular style anyway, so I give it a pass, with grace. Neutral

Harlem Nights by Chris Collins

Harlem Nights by Chris Collins (2017) is a debut entry from the Vogue fashion model-turned-perfume-creator that bases his operation out of Harlem, New York. The celebration of black culture and in particular the Harlem Renaissance is very noble, and honestly we could use more of that in the perfume space; I just don't want to make it seem like any criticism I have over the perfumes themselves have anything to do with the theming or brand origin. As such, I find Harlem Nights decent enough in style and execution for what it is, as perfumer Jerome Epinette more or less had carte blanche here with Chris Collins as director, I just find the price point and value proposition not so good.

With Harlem Nights, I see a big link to the rubbery, smoky style of many Comme des Garçons perfumes, and that's a good thing. The fruity, boozy, floral elements up front are a bit of a throw-off in that regard, but the smoky, waxy, orris-meets-patchouli-and-leather smell in the base is the highlight of the scent. Performance is going to be good, although these 50ml bottles are not extrait; they are just eau de parfum, and wear time will go maybe to the eight hour mark before it becomes a dull thud, which is why I give slight knocks in the value per dollar spent. One of the more-unique things in the range, if ever I was going to plunk down to grab something from the line, it might be this one.

Moreover, brands like Cartier and Bvlgari have also explored this rubbery, smoky, waxy sort of avant-garde territory for years before Chris Collins did; and since he is a self-professed collector and fragrance nerd, the chances are high he is wearing his inspirations on his sleeve with his own collection, especially with scents like this one. That is something I can give some merit to, regardless of the rest. While not quite the influencer perfume brand, Chris Collins does come across like a "by fans for fans" sort of deal; but that pesky $180 price tag for just 50ml of eau de parfum is the big rub that gets me moving the needle from thumbs up to just ambivalence, and that's really too bad. Neutral

Oud For Greatness NEO by Initio

Oud For Greatness NEO by Initio (2024) is the third fragrance so far in the "Oud for" range that began back with Oud for Greatness in 2018, and continued with Oud for Happiness in 2021, a scent that was a bit of a kissing cousin to Parfums de Marly Haltane (2021), released the same year. There's a bit of a "merry go round" effect at play here, with many of these compositions from both Initio and sibling company Parfums de Marly feeling pulled down from the same brief, mods from said brief plucked away by both labels into successive fragrances to maximize profits while minimizing R&D expenses. Late-stage capitalist dystopian corporate profit funneling aside, this one does seem a bit like an improvement over the other two in that Oud for Greatness NEO goes in a more barbershop fougère direction. So close Initio has come to finally putting out something I'd want to buy, but nope.

The opening is to be honest pretty gross, and I thought there was something wrong with the sample when I smelled it, until things dried down. The lavender and saffron structure over synthetic woody-amber "oud" is here from the original, as is the green spice goulash from Oud for Happiness and Haltane. The new additions are fir, patchouli, and unlisted eugenol-based clove/carnation notes that merge with also-unlisted geranium, nutmeg, and piment to create that shave foam accord the vintage wet shavers all know, and used to love Rive Gauche pour Homme for, before it became unobtanium beyond the "vintage bro" arbitrage investment wankers buying up ten apiece to gloat or gatekeep over. A small bit of that synth oud floats just underneath it all, reminding me of Zaharoff Signature pour Homme (2018), just less complex, more singular, and far more expensive.

The sad thing here obviously is that we're effectively getting something like Azzaro pour Homme (1978), Un Homme Charles Jourdan (1979), and Rive Gauche pour Homme by Yves Saint Laurent (2003) repackaged as ultra-luxe fragrances at a $300+ pricepoint, even if the cruel reality is that two out of three of what I just named are also discontinued and go for exorbitant amounts of money in the second-hand market that will cost you more than this Initio. I suppose with that in mind, Initio saw money on the table and went for it, even if you can do slightly better with the aforementioned Zaharoff Signature pour Homme in the value-for-money department dollar per milliliter spent. If only this was from any other brand aside from Initio we'd have a hit, but at least it isn't an insulting Tom Ford Private Blend and costing $400 for only 50ml. Neutral

Kredo by Nishane

Kredo by Nishane (2022) is perfumed by the venerable and well-respected Jean-Louis Sieuzac, a perfumer known for huge classics now-worshiped by vintage enthusiasts. This does not smell anything like those - so check your expectations accordingly - and probably won't go down in perfume history as one of his more notable compositions, but that's okay. With the limited palette and reliance on novel abstract materials caused by IFRA restrictions and marketing gurus determined to make every fragrance at every price point the lowest common denominator of taste among potential buyers, Sieuzac did the best job he could. That job results in a rather interesting interpretation of the recent saffron/vanilla/oud molecule combo phenomenon that has evolved as a merging of Tom Ford Oud Wood (2007) and Baccarat Rouge 540 by MFK (2015).

What Sieuzac does with this particular "blob" accord is accent it with more vanilla and add in some osmanthus, adding a surprise smooth fruity twist that makes the thing far more palatable than any other genotype of this particular trope I've encountered. That said, this isn't something I'd wear or buy, so I will rate accordingly. The opening is a bit sharp and harsh, with the pink pepper being particularly piercing, with a green pungency of patchouli alcohol and saffron materials to smooth it over. The osmanthus is just about lost in all this, but emerges sometime later, feeling more like apricot yogurt with all the vanilla and javanol that enter the fray.. The "oud" is slight, and suede is basically a cashmeran pyralone mix with some verimoss to give that "BR540 feeling" in the late drydown. Performance is persistent, but not projecting super far.

Overall, this isn't bad; but Nishane as a house overall is fairly expensive, with super-powered proxies of more popular niche or luxury perfumes, sold at half the quantity for about the same price as 100ml from any other comparable brand, with a bit of Turkish cultural glaze to smooth it over, and sometimes a left-of-center twist like with Kredo to distract you from what you're really buying. In this case, it's another entry in the nameless, faceless field of "luxury" perfumes, where the point is to make the most opaque plasticene smell of smoothness and richness imaginable, like the equivalent of Hershey's Symphony chocolate, sold at Godiva prices. Sieuzac isn't to blame here, as he does a lot of niche and luxury perfume briefs anymore, since he can't make another Dior Dune (1982) or Pascal Morabito Or Black (1982) for designers anymore. Neutral

MCM Ultra by MCM

MCM Ultra by MCM (2022) is intentionally more-modern than the original house-rebooting MCM Eau de Parfum by MCM (2021), in that it follows more-closely to the formula of the popular Good Girl by Carolina Herrera (2016), mashing up fruity notes and gourmand notes with jasmine and tuberose. While that formula works for a lot of people, and indeed I imagine this will fly off shelves much faster than the original MCM Eau de Parfum did with its semi-throwback 90's fruity floral chypre vibe, it feels far less original or interesting for choosing to live in the shadows of market leaders. Take the safe money, as it's better than taking no money I suppose, a fate that consigned the original MCM perfume catalog to oblivion, hence the reboot by Inter Parfums just a year prior. The women's ranges almost echo Montblanc's usual refined pragmatism with their men's releases, and that's a plus.

That said, what's done here is done rather well. Frank Voelkl is no slouch, and has done both expensive perfumes and really cheap ones admirably, working with Avon on some of my favorites from them, and Kenneth Cole too, plus a whole host of the usual suspects over in luxury-land. He understands the assignment, however unexciting it may be, and pulls it off well. The green apple and blackcurrant blend in well with the jasmine and osmanthus holdovers from the original MCM from this new line, excising the chypre bits and the rose peony bits in favor of tuberose, which works well with jasmine well as fans of Dior J'Adore (1999) are well aware. The amber tonka vanilla gourmand bits are the thing pegging this most as modern commercial designer fare, with bits of cedar and verimoss in the base. Groundbreaking perfumery this is not, although it is wearable enough if you enjoy the theme. No unisex potential here I'm afraid, unless you're a guy who loves J'Adore (like me).

Performance on something so boldly fruity, floral, and sweet is going to be monstrous; but because MCM Ultra avoids the overly-foody praline, cocoa, and coffee bits that Good Girl wraps into its fruity-floral mixture, it may seem a bit more sheer and wearable, almost more classic in some ways; or about as classic as one can get with a clear 21st century trope of this type, with the twice-aforementioned J'Adore more or less spearheading this movement in the women's designer perfume market. MCM plays their hand close to the chest under Inter Parfums, riding in well-worn lanes, the designer fragrance equivalent of the carpool or HEV lane on the highway, and it suits them when it is clear all the R&D budget went into those snazzy backpack bottles all the scents from the recent reboot range sport. The men's fragrance released a year after this falls flat on its face though. Neutral.

MCM (New) by MCM

MCM Eau de Parfum by MCM (2021) is not the same as the eponymous scent launched in 1999, also sometimes called "MCM Gold", and is a new composition created by Max Gavarry under Inter Parfums licensing of the designer's fragrance business since 2021. There is something subversively classic about this new MCM, if that makes sense to the reader; and if I smelled it in the wild, I might assume it was a perfume not newer than maybe the 1990's, beyond the fruity opening that really fades into the rest after about 10 minutes. Banking on the resurgence of interest in the brand's gaudy backpacks, this perfume comes housed in a bottle that takes the shape of them; this is a theme they would continue with all subsequent releases for MCM by Interparfums, including the most-recent men's addition (which is hot trash in my opinion).

If only as much attention to detail, and bridging both classic MCM designs with their more-recent directions were taken with that men's release called MCM Onyx by MCM (2023), maybe we'd have something of note inside that black backpack bottle. In this brown backpack bottle, we get a nice rose jasmine violet perfume, with some aldehydes and calone on top, raspberry and osmanthus apricot notes, balanced by a sharp oakmoss and sandalwood chypre base with just a pinch of vanilla and white musks. Something like this released decades ago might have seemed droll and rote; but in a quality and creativity-starved current designer market, yesteryear's b-sides cut through the air as today's hit singles, although I fear many a bubbly vapid TikTok user or YouTuber might write this off as "mom's perfume" or something, for daring to have even a facsimile of a classic French perfume structure underpinning it.

Comparisons to Versace Bright Crystal (2006) make sense, although bear in mind that perfume is nearly 20 years old itself as of the date on this review, which just further hits home my point about MCM's structure. There's nothing really exciting here for a perfume snob, and the guys with pinkies out who proudly wear old women's market fragrances from the 70's and 80's might find the peony and calone-fruit up top a bridge too far for their gender identity comfort zone. Only the "real ones" who still feel comfortable in their skin wearing a femme-marketed scent newer than the original Féminité du Bois by Shideido (1992) need apply; but ladies familiar with this calone fruity-floral aldehyde chypre mashup once all the rage from the late 80's through early 00's, and periodically revisited today by designers wanting adult perfumes will find some interest here. Thumbs up

Bois Impérial by Essential Parfums

Bois Impérial by Essential Parfums (2020) gets pitched as a cheaper alternative to Ganymede by Marc-Antoine Barrois (2019) because it does the same parlor trick of using huge aromachemical slugs to create diffusive woody freshness that lasts and yeah, that works, if that's what you want out of a fragrance. Both perfumes have the same creator, one Quentin Bisch, who admittedly isn't my favorite guy in the scene even though he seems to get his name on a lot of fly-by-night perfumes lately. If you're looking for a somewhat reasonable fresh fragrance that isn't an aquatic or stuffed to the gizzard with sweet bubblegum or vanilla, this is a good choice, although that's the pinnacle of my assessment here.

Essential Parfums sells itself as a budget-friendly niche alternative that packs all the creativity in fewer calories (dollars), being sort of the midway between a Byredo or Le Labo, and Dossier or Hawthorne; other non-descript bargain-basement brands that take "pressed white shirt" as a personality. The saving grace that keeps this somewhat interesting is that minty basil leaf, which is a staple of Thai cuisine (especially kaprow gai kai dao), tagged with vetiver and timut pepper. Beyond that, huge doses of ambrofix and akigalawood (a patchouli isolate that feels woody without the oiliness or camphor of whole patchouli). The laundry musk "whoosh" is just a bit much for me, as it stands so naked against the rest, becoming the focus. This stuff smells really freaking good in the air, so it's probably the compliment bomb the usual crowd is hoping for.

As such, this formula feels a bit "cheap" to the nose, and you can get a little noseblind to it if you smell a whole bunch of it at once. People either scream this is a massive performer, or they can't smell it, and the sheer deafening hype all across the online fragrance enthusiast spaces (mostly brainless douchers looking to hook up or flex) puts a bit of a damper on the scent itself, although that's not brand's fault at all. I've never smelled this in the wild, so all that hype really just amounts to a hill of beans in the end, as people still fill the air with MFK Baccarat Rouge 540 (2015), Creed Aventus (2010), Dior Sauvage (2015), or the latest bubblegum showergel garbage. Nice concept, but not enough meat on them bones for me. Neutral