Kingdom
Alexander McQueen (2003)

Flora-citrus with a slight sour accord at first. Cumin jumps in. There is wood playing underneath - one I don't recognize. Rose and jasmine aren't sweet. The jasmine has a slightly rotting odor.

Kingdom began strong on my skin, then quickly began to fade. I don't get any ginger at all. A boozy vanilla both hovers and sinks, at the same time.

Later, I seem to get more flower scent, than earlier. Woodiness hasn't faded; is laying low. I'm not in love with this one. It's just Okay, even as it turns all floral hours later.

The opening note is based on a citrus mix. Orange and bergamot, with an undercurrent of a somber but bright-ish neroli - freshness tampered by a shadowy veil cast over it.

The drydown adds a floral side, with jasmine and a rose in the foreground. At times the jasmine is stronger, at other times the dark rose comes up trump. The slight oriental spiciness of cumin adds additional depth.

The base adds woodsy aromas and myrtle-style herbal impressions giving interesting complexity to the vanilla that forms the core of the last hours of the development of this composition.

I get moderate sillage, excellent projection and eight hours of longevity on my skin.

This autumnal scent for warmer days and evening is delightful. This is not of stellar quality, but it is a very good creation. It is not without original touches, the quality of the ingredients is high, and the blending is smooth without losing structure. A kingdom, a kingdom for a flâcon! 3.5/5.

As usual I've a bit of a hard time with fragrances known for being “skanky”, “dirty”, “animalic” and in broader terms, “challenging”. Because they never really seem so to me. And this is the case of Kingdom, too. It's a fantastic fragrance, that's for sure, but I get really nothing dirty or skanky here. Either I'm too used to live in the dirt myself, or have dated particularly clean people, because I get really no smell of sweat or “ladies' parts” (let alone “man's crotches”) here, or whatever other kinky stuff. Kingdom seems to me basically a complex, yet actually surprisingly mannered blend revolving around notes of rose, sandalwood, musk and cumin with a dark ambery-mossy base accord, and a silky frame of whiter floral notes. Surely not a light scent, and I see how a hefty dose of rose combined with an equally generous dose of cumin on a thick load of musk and woods can result into something “carnal”, alluring, almost intoxicating, but it doesn't really seem anything particularly “skanky” or challenging to wear to me. It's just more very vibrant, warm, refined and sensual, surely much “human” and somehow “carnal”, but not exactly dirty to me. Also as I said, it seems actually quite more mannered and smooth than I thought – not a “bomb”, really. It's surely rich and deep, but not loud or more powerful than many others. It's very velvety actually. Most vintage chypres are way more dirty, loud and challenging than this.

Anyway, aside from the fact it smells truly good, absolutely quality and surprisingly versatile (not sure why but in some way, this reminds me of a rose-spicy version of Yohji Homme, with a touch of something androgynous), the reason why I really like Kingdom and consider it a totally worthy gem is because of its charming complexity. That kind of intricated complexity that presents you a very harmonic, balanced, perfectly consistent blend that at first seems almost comprising only a small bunch of notes... until you get captured into it, and thrown among the myriad of nuances it has. And it's like in a well-written poem – everything is in the perfect place, with a perfect timing. You don't even have to pay that attention actually; you can wear it and forget about it, it will all come to you. Eventually you'll get whiffs and echoes of carnation, amber, mossy notes, gentle powdery-floral notes, hard spices, even something resembling to silky orange blossoms (I guess the top citrus-neroli notes combined with the “whiter/softer” side of musk), just as if you're wearing a half dozen of different scents, with an astounding clarity even in the tiniest, most ephemeral details. And yet, you're always wearing just this one. It's a peculiar effect some scents have – to release “minor” notes and nuances erratically during their evolution, and yet to keep their, say, “main structure”. I mean, it's not that it changes or evolves dramatically – ironically it doesn't that much. A pretty linear scent, in fact. But it has this cinematic effect of releasing coming-and-going nuances throughout its evolution, behind the main consistent structure of rose-cumin-sandalwood-musk, which makes wearing Kingdom a captivating, vibrant, extremely fulfilling experience. And anyway it smells just great, deep and classy, it lasts long without being obtrusive or challenging. Total quality. Prices today are really crazy for this, but you wouldn't probably regret the purchase – even just to keep it as a reference collector's item (or a beautiful piece of design... I mean, look at that bottle!).

8-8,5/10

It has a spicy, woody and mysterious scent.
It is an oriental-spicy type of perfume.

I bought it merely out of curiosity.
Top notes are strong, but the drydown is a little better.
My husband liked it as a masculine scent.
It is a sophisticated perfume, but not in a good way.

Genre: Woody Oriental

Ah, the fearsome, cumin-drenched, armpit-reeking Kingdom!

So? Where is it?

Years of wearing scents like Muscs Koublaï Khan, Eau d'Hermès, Ungaro II, and Kouros must have left my nostrils very jaded, because Kingdom smells like a pleasantly spicy, sweet oriental scent on a vanilla-sandalwood foundation with a moderate animalic accent. I'm neither shocked nor scandalized, nor would I really expect anyone who's enjoyed wearing Jicky, Chanel's Cuir de Russie, Bal à Versailles, or Bandit to be either. It's just not that far out of the box. What killed Kingdom, I suspect, was that McQueen (bravely) introduced it at a time when the mainstream feminine fragrance axiom was the candy-sweet fruity floral and the commercial men's fragrance archetype was the ultra-sanitary, “fresh” aquatic scent or fruity fougère. (And make no mistake about it, Kingdom could just as well have been a “masculine” scent as a “feminine,” and is equally wearable for non-squeamish members of either gender.) This would have been popular on the niche market as a slightly heavier and more subdued alternative to Muscs Koublaï Khan. Too bad the general public didn't have the stomach for it.

I pulled out my sample of the discontinued (?) Kingdom edp with the thought that I'd single it out in my general complaint of the misuse of cumin to attempt to recreate animalic notes. When cumin is used to imply animalic notes, it typically doesn't work, smells fake and makes the perfume seem cheap. I can't say that Kingdom entirely escapes this trap. My complaint isn't that the cumin is strong, but that it doesn't actually recreate the animalic, and therefore, seen simply as a heavy spice note, is imbalanced and out of place. As I revisit Kingdom, I still find that a spurious note sinks the fragrance, but its not the huge cumin topnote. The real culprit is the mushy-musky drydown that seems like a thwarted attempt to emulate sandalwood.

Francis Kurkjian's Lumière Noire pour Homme made me rethink the use of cumin. It pairs a roasted cumin scent with rose and recreates the feel if not the exact scent of the rose chypres of the 1970s-1980s. Kingdom reads more as an oriental than a nouvelle chypre, but both show that cumin is more effective as a patchouli adjunct than as a castoreum/civet/musk parallel.