Chypre Alpa

As the penultimate fragrance in my little "Czech series," Chypre - once again from Alpa - comes next. Chypre is a cologne, and measured by that standard, the sillage and especially the longevity of about four hours (with generous application) is quite remarkable.

This cologne opens with a bang, featuring a typically cologne-like explosive burst of atypical floral-sweet and soapy-synthetic notes. Following a creamy yet occasionally somewhat animalistic intermediate phase, which I perceive as cool (even though floral-sweet and cool seem hard to combine), a very nice, gentle, calm, moderately warm dry down begins around the third hour, in which I can identify moss (and perhaps other green notes) and vanilla as clearly as in hardly any other fragrance I have ever tested - which blends excellently here; musk is also said to be present, which I find plausible.

In the late phase of the fragrance, I can easily imagine Chypre on a gentleman's pocket square or on his cheeks (perhaps a gentleman with a certain fondness for the interwar period) (I borrowed this image again from the "Pomadeshop" website, through which those who do not often travel to or through Bohemia like I do can obtain these fragrances). However, this is less the case at the outset - the bouquet of this fragrance strikes me as incredibly fascinating, to say the least, or even provocative or exciting, yet at the same time somewhat intrusive and, well, let's say it, vulgar and cheap. Perhaps this impression can be moderated by further tests with now lower dosages (which will likely also affect the longevity).

This somewhat ambivalent finding is responsible for the "compromise rating" of 7.5 that I have given - although I find this "Chypre" in a certain way extremely attractive - and also for the title of the review. It is inspired by the third part of the so-called "noetic trilogy" presented in the early thirties (thus fitting for the fragrance) by the unfortunately not very well-known, excellent Czech writer Karel Capek. This third part is titled "An Ordinary Life" (obycejny zivot). It depicts from the first-person perspective of posthumous papers the life of a middle-class Bohemian railway official, behind whose respectable and decent facade lies (alongside other, morally far more problematic abysses) a dark attraction to the type of ordinary, even repulsive woman (which is occasionally acted upon). I could not avoid thinking of such a dubious woman when experiencing the opening of this fragrance.

The bottle pleases me, as is almost always the case with this brand: I think there is no attempt at "vintage" here; retro is simply lived. The label looks like it has fallen out of time at least eight decades ago; I find it beautiful and fitting for the fragrance. Unfortunately, it lacks a splash (or spray) mechanism, which is a pity. Because one should probably not use "Chypre" purely for washing hands and face. While the large opening suggests this, the fatal consequences of an overdose should indeed be avoided.