Perfume Reviews by Brian Buchanan

Axe Marine / Lynx Marine by Axe / Lynx

Yeah, the types' got reason.
It wasn't a bad freshie, and at the price it was a good deal.

Mayotte / Mahora by Guerlain

in French, Mahora sounds like mort aux rats - death to rats.
Ironically, it smells like it too... drowned rats decaying in a vat of syrup.

Lanvin L'Homme Sport by Lanvin

A fruity woody in the style of Cool Water.
Nothing original but nicely done.

Ithaka by Mendittorosa

An attempt to modernise Vol de Nuit using green bergmot, incense and sweet perfumed dough. Needless to say, it fails.

Pompeïa by L.T. Piver

For some unknown reason Pompeïa has picked up a following amongst the Voodoo practitioners of Haïti.
Which seems doubly bizarre when you find that it's a heliotrope Oriental with no especially magical qualities, just a pleasant old fashioned pong not far removed from their Héliotrope Blanc.

(Old miniature with metal seal over the neck)

Infusion de Fleur d'Oranger by Prada

Orange blossom and neroli try to give a smiling face on the pretty but downcast Infusion d'Iris.
It doesn't work.
Infusion wins out, leading to one of the most confused and repellant drydowns I've smelled in ages.

Étoile de Rem by Réminiscence

Reminiscence do Beach Scent.
And why not? It's fun, and quite light; an aquatic – orange flower & ylang ylang – coconut – powdery – vanilla, and not a trace of patchouli anywhere.
The sort of thing that agrees with a Piña colada or three.

Eau de Vivara by Emilio Pucci

Eau de Vivara is like Y, a musky Green Chypre with a floral bouquet.

They are similar, but this one is heavier, and denser, and the floral bouquet is squashed between a slightly overdone green note and a brown mossy base – like the one in Miss Dior.
They take up so much space there’s no room left to breath, and as a consequence, Eau de Vivara doesn’t take to the air like Y does.

There’s a reason why Eau de Vivara is not as popular as Y, it’s nowhere near as good.

Beyond Paradise by Estée Lauder

A postmodern cross between Diorella and cK One.

For those who haven't figured this out yet, the latest word from Luca Turin is that BP, (a citrus ‘melon’ with a milky fruity-flora) turns bad in the bottle.

After having a got a totally wrecked juice, I managed to find another mini, which is an EdP – apparently the better one – and it only has a slightly burnt undercurrent, not the fireman’s nightmare that the last one smelt of.

In the end Turin was right, it's great. I won't bother to repeat his apposite imagery, just read the review in your copy of The Guide.

Infusion d'Iris by Prada

Infusion d’Iris doesn’t shy away from the mighty legacy of past irises like Après l’Ondée and Iris Silver Mist.
Instead it takes them head on, and blends the poetic melancholy of l’Ondée with the steel and glass modernity of Silver Mist.
But just mixing them together wouldn’t be enough – it takes more than that to enter the big league.
And so, what Daniela Andrier did was --- she humanised it with a pink and pretty face that doesn’t hide a glint of tears behind the veil.

The thing is though, even though it’s the rhizome that’s used in perfume, iris belongs to the floral family, which means that Infusion d’Iris is a Floral.
And then, if you add a citrus-fruity accord, it becomes a Fruity Floral.
Or – more accurately – an orange-fruity … and then bitter-woody & metallic-fizzy Floral, which dries down to a musky violet.
So (so) even if it doesn’t really smell like a fruity floral, technically speaking, – that’s what it is.
Good stuff.

Jaguar (original) by Jaguar

In the late 1980’s, Jaguar released two versions of a new car. The XJS, a sleek V12 convertible that appeared in 1989, and a year before that, just as their first scent was coming out, there was the plain old XJ. It was also a V12 but looked like something to chauffeur a politician from one end of Parliament to the other.

And, in the same way that perfume is the affordable luxury for those who can't afford a designer dress, a bottle of scent may be the nearest many men get to owning a Jaguar.
But, instead of their eponymous pong, discerning wannabe XJS drivers in their Ford Capri's would have worn Zino (which is similar to this but much better) or maybe Cool Water if they were really on the pulse; while older, richer men like senior managers and trade union bosses would probably have wafted Aramis or Pour un Homme de Caron while driving a BMW, and not the dowdy XJ.

Jaguar the scent has the woody veneer and leather you'd expect of a luxury car brand, but the green aromatics, fousty orange, powder, spices and a hint of unwashed feet combine into something quite bizarre.
A big Bagpuss of a scent, I don't know how they ever got it past the petrol heads…

J'ai Osé by J'ai Osé

As any fule kno, the class of ‘77 was dominated by Opium.
And, as well as her there was the exuberant tuberose of Oscar – who set the trend for the big hair, big shoulders and big everything of Eighties pongs. Also notable was the first Ungaro – an orange flower that was Jacques Polges’ first use of the fruity woods of Antaeus; they were Big Orientals – all of them.
And then there was J’ai Osé, sitting quietly at the back.
She was a pretty Floral Amber, but was so modest and so shy, you would barely notice her.
Even left to her own devices, ‘I Dared’ is so introverted, after three hours -on clothing- she’s virtually left the building.
This is one of the most self effacing scents I’ve ever worn.
Which is a pity because, with a peachy accent, moss and maybe aldehydes, it takes the Oriental in a tentative Mitsouko direction, which could have been interesting.
But as it stands with this Guy Laroche pressurised bottle, I sprayed and I sprayed, and I sprayed again, and I still can't really smell it.

Flor y Canto by Arquiste

Putting on Flor y Canto is like entering a rain forest, where sweet-powdery flowers grow among green leaves and stems, and brightly coloured birds feed on mango-like fruits.

It’s like a Rousseau painting done by someone who knows the forest intimately. The scene is joyful and bright, and there is none of that Fear of the Other which inhabits the shadowy scenes of Le Douanier.

The opening stanza is cassie, vanilla and balms, but that doesn’t capture the sense of déjà vu I had when first putting it on.
This odd dislocation isn’t due to the fact that it’s based around tuberose, that familiar weirdness only appears later. It’s something about the way that the fruity and confectionery tones mix and mingle with the resiny underpinning, they combine in a way which is both natural and quite strange; it doesn’t feel forced, as it might at the hands of a lesser perfumer, instead it’s intriguing.

Flor y Canto – Flower and Song – is a simple two-part harmony of milky acid fruitiness and tuberose bouquet. It’s begins quite unusually – but is somehow familiar, and then, as the tuberose comes to the fore, it becomes more familiar – but still unusual. It is basically a tuberose after all…

Rodrigo Flores-Roux is known for his use of customized natural materials, and with the help of this unique arsenal he’s created his own eclectic style of modern perfumery, one that – when combined with inventiveness and a concern for quality compositions – gives his work an authenticity that puts him outside the mainstream.

And, perhaps because of that, there is a sense of integrity to this solar fruity floral – which is familiar but unusual – and narcotic, but not heavy; it’s as easy to wear as picking a bloom from the forest and placing it behind your ear.

This isn’t natural perfumery, but there’s a naturalness to it that’s hard to resist.

Wings by Wings

A pale green fresh fruity that’s like an early summer morning, and there’s a warm musky woody shortbread with the promise of a fine day to come.

Although it’s obviously aimed at younger women, or even girls, Wings could just about pass for a cK style mixed scent. And it turns out that cK One wasn’t released until 1994, two years after this. Chapeau à Jean-Claude Delville!

And, as it happens, I see that he also did Parfum d’été for Kenzo (1993) which reminds Colborne of an ever-warming spring where May is fast approaching.
Nice.

Luberon by Maria Candida Gentile

By adding rose to ambery and fresh lavenders, MCG comes up with a feminised take on Pour un Homme de Caron. It’s half liquid soap and half lavender biscuit topped with honey; too sweet to be pot-pourri, too soapy to be edible.
Intriguing and repellent at the same time.

Ultraviolet for Him / Ultraviolet Man by Paco Rabanne

The usual ‘Masculine’ fare; thin, woody-streamlined, aromatic…
and with pepper and mint to give some character to the chemicals.

Almost makes you wish for Sauvage.

Morning Chess by Vilhelm Parfumerie

Is there such a thing as Fast Perfume? A cheap and ephemeral product that riffs on trendy ideas without taking them any further?

If there were, it might well be the stuff sold by Zara, the place where I last smelled the work of Jérôme Epinette. Their cheap and basic compositions recall the modalities of current perfumery without smelling too much like any particular work.

And this strikes as me being more or less the same.
It’s not as cheap as the Zara stuff but it’s pretty basic, a yellow smelling citrus which is linear and lasts for ages. On paper it smells fresh and clean but in wear it’s got loads of ambroxan. It's actually a citrus - leather - woods which many people think is like Aventus, they even talk about fruity and smoky batches…

So there you go, a replacement for Aventus, but not a cheap copy, it's 250€ a pop.

Cabochard by Grès

On wearing a vintage extrait.

The head is mandarin, with herbal-anisic tarragon and clary sage, spicy cardamom, and green galbanum.
None of these are overdone and the main note – if any – is mandarin, and then herbal-anise. 

The heart is the classic No5 structure : rose - jasmine - ylang ylang and orris, with geranium and ionone [sic] but what’s amazing is how it's been transformed by Chant (and possibly the ravages of time) into something quite different.

The main thrust of the perfume, however, comes from the base. A dark brown, rich but low key leather chypre. Moss is evident in sillage but up close it's a dark and faded rose on a deep brown study. Not at all feminine by today's standards, mainly thanks to an almost complete lack of sweetness and a very restrained floral heart; you could almost say the heart is bound by the leathery base. 

Bandit is the most obvious comparison – thanks to the floral element, but Aramis would be the masculine equivalent, t has the same structure of citrus - herbs - leather chypre. Aramis is more tilted towards the upper end of the profile, with brighter citrus notes (but again, the effects of time on this dark brown extrait cannot be ruled out). 

Even though Cabochard doesn't shout – like some modern scents, it has a strong presence once it’s come into awareness; the diffusion is fairly limited I think, and its low key character isn't the sort of thing that wants to vaunt itself.
Cabochard is maybe more of a background with strong presence than a foreground subject; a still life in the manner of a Dutch master, dark, with a caressing side light that illuminates the textures of the object to the eye – as much as presents them as formal shapes. Despite the hard qualities of leather and chypre, there's a dreaminess to Cabochard that comes across in the dusty bouquet of faded flowers; a boudoir sensibility that’s somehow reconciled with the façade of leather handbag. 

Despite the dusty flowers being the main theme, the link to Aramis is clear.
On the surface, Cabochard appears to be like Bandit, but look into the structure and you see that it is -in fact- the 'other half' of Aramis. 

A brilliant creation from top to bottom, it makes light of the criticism that Bernard Chant could only sing one song. With his best known works being Cabochard (1959), Aramis (1965), Aromatics Elixir (1971) and Cinnabar (1978), that may be true, but if the song is Nessun Dorma, like Pavarotti, it's all he needs to be immortalised. 

A masterpiece. 

Tam Dao Eau de Toilette by Diptyque

This reminds me of Rush for Men.
It’s the same cypress and sandal, but now they're boosted with the same kind of aromachems you get in Samsara, and topped off with a bit of its rose.
It's deeper than the Gucci but essentially the same; another fuzzy drone.

Milan FC by Milan FC

AC Milan have their own perfume!
And with Milan being the home ground of Italy’s fashion industry, it’s no slouch!

An Aromatic Amber, this world class team is composed of international stars like classy violet leaf, striking rhubarb and sage sage in the attacking head; who are supported by a mysterious midfield of spicy cloves, red hot pepper and cool iris; and they’re backed up by a woody amber bass line as rock solid as Milan's back row!

Who would have thought the San Sero could smell that good?


Not me.

In reality, it’s almost as good as the first Hummer, ie. an own goal.

You won’t find it in The Handbook of Great Italian Perfumery.

Very Valentino pour Homme by Valentino

A minty-amber that could have done with more money going into the formula.
As it stands, it was a good idea held back by cheapnis.

Un Jour by Charles Jourdan

An aldehydic bouquet with a woody base that beats No5?
It could happen some day...

Nuit de Cellophane by Serge Lutens

The strange beauty of Nuit de cellophane is an echo of the sinister cartoon flowers Gerald Scarf drew for The Wall, Pink Floyd’s movie of 1979.

Where Scarf’s white and apricot flowers brutally writhe and couple, the osmanthus and white flowers of Lutens feel viscious thanks to a weird plasticky edge.

The emotional tone is tight and controlled but never overwrought.
Unlike The Wall, this is no melodrama but a riposte to those who think florals are about seduction.
So, instead of an ode to love and romance, Nuit de cellophane plumbs the depths of the human heart and shines a light on the darkness lurking there.

Cruella de Vil never smelled so good.

Orlando by Jardins D'Ecrivains

Like Histoires de Parfums, Jardins d’écrivains has a line of biographical scents that, in this case, even dates the life of the subject : 1600 – 1928, a lifespan that makes Methuselah look like a spring chicken.

And despite being set in Elizabethan times, Orlando is an oh-so-modern figure, a sort of gender fluid Dr Who; who – in Virginia Woolf’s novella – travels through time and place, changing sex as s/he goes. It’s the original pronoun story.

And the scent? An Amber / Oriental that uses orange / Citrus x sinensis, pink pepper / baie rose, and clove / eugenol to skirt around the pot-pourri that formed the default style of Anaïs Biguine in the early 2010’s. Instead of pasty orange blossom themes and powdery bases, Orlando is bony and elegant – rather like Woolf’s lover Vita Sackville-West, who was the inspiration for the book.
Sackville-West was manly and tall (and looked so much like Virginia Woolfe she could have been her double).
She was a writer, and wife of the British diplomat Sir Harold Nicolson, but most importantly she was a gardener, and is renown as the creator of one of the most innovative gardens of the early 20th century, Sissinghurst Castle in Kent, which Harold laid out in ‘rooms’ and Vita filled with flowing designs.

Like ‘Orlando’s garden’, Orland’s perfume is crisp; but it overdoes it and gets screechy. It could have done with less structure and more flowers.