Aramis 900 Aramis 1973 Eau de Cologne

1973 was to bring a profound turning point in the continuous growth phase of the post-war order, which is still felt today.

In that year, Bernard Chant took an unusual step in the men's division of the Estée Lauder Group.
A cool rose was to stand for a new masculinity from then on.

He mastered and understood Chypre masterfully.
He interpreted this fragrance direction quite herbaceous yet floral, not skimping on pleasant animal notes and succeeding with reconciling resins.
Unmistakably his signature.
Today, I would be tempted to claim that he ensured independent shine and glamour on the East Coast of the USA, starting from New York. Thanks to this springboard, his fragrances won the hearts of many noses worldwide.

What should a man of the 1970s smell like?
The unrest and cultural upheavals of 1968 created a break with the previously traditional.
Previously suppressed, contemptuously perceived aspects of behavior, feelings, and not least personal care would gradually lose their constraining significance for the still modern man, at least in urban circles.

Bernard Chant's congenial debut work Aramis Eau de Toilette, fortunately still distributed today, ignoring the spirit of the times, stood in the early 1970s, aromatic and powerful, in the collective scent perception of the predominantly male clientele of the Aramis division of Estée Lauder.
But the wind had changed.
How could a fragrance in the men's sector evoke enthusiasm after years of expansive restructuring of the US social system in the 1960s and the first serious, visible cracks in its financing, the detachment of the dollar from the gold standard in 1971 as a consequent result, the political scandals of Richard Nixon, the never-ending and costly Vietnam War, and the oil price shock?

It should also be noted that there were still at least another year and a half until the fun disco era.

Nevertheless, the male prototypes of the advertising figures were already shown in films. And not flawless and stereotypical.
Long hair, thick mustaches, prominent sideburns, dangerous sunglasses.
Sometimes with turtlenecks, then casual jeans and half-open shirts with daring patterns, tailored three-piece suits, obligatory flares widened the calves while the crotch and hips were kept notably tight.
Visually rich and atmospheric, Klute, Westworld, The Conversation, Ghost Story (TV series) would be worth mentioning.

These dark beginnings of the decade broke with heroism in the traditional sense; vulnerable aspects, incapacity, and self-reflection increasingly shone through.

900…

This Nine raised to a power.

Just before reaching Ten.

The germination of the seed.

Halved a 4.5.
So poured from four and five, sweet and strict at the same time.

Pulsating in the genital area…

The first design of the bottle was extremely sparse, likely due to the economic situation at the time.
Colorless glass.
The cap resembled a double gear, the logo surrounded by an early computer font type in a broad silver frame.
Space.

A few years later, the cap became narrower and was only adorned with a tooth rim, the logo slimmer, frameless, and now bluish.

Only in the postmodern 1980s did the fragrance receive a completely new bottle.
Brown glass, ribbed shape inspired by silent servants (suit racks).

Finally, it was standardized like almost the entire men's division of Aramis in the Tuscany per Uomo Eau de Toilette look.

And once again too top-heavy on my part, goodness!
But I know of the magical power of this fragrance composition.

I look at this yellow liquid in the bottle, my eyes disappear into it.

And this playful reflection brings me to…

Hiss!

A hologram of spherical images unfolds instantly.

Ripe and fleshy citrus fruits of the warm South.

An animalistic hint, highly erotic.

In the thicket of woods and herbs, a still shy rose.

The purity of classic soap manufacturers.

And a cool, northern breeze from a silver mine sharply separates this dreamlike sphere from the outside world.

Rhythmically synchronizing, a strictly bitter iris root plays like a metronome, the counterpoint to the bodily warmth of the animal notes, never closer to the skin, almost piercing.

Devotion.

Understanding all the contrasts, the rose finally takes its central place.
Its color not clearly defined, pale pink, morning gray-yellow.
It weeps tears of joy like opals.

Balance.

Compensation.

Understanding.

Sometimes elegant wood chastises, sometimes a powdery garden carnation soothes.

Suddenly, the body joyfully exclaims from the lymph nodes, to be soaped in a lathery embrace.

Nestled on green herbs in the gentle dew of the smallest lily of the valley, sunbathed in the citrus grove.

In the evening, the energized jasmine radiates powerfully deep into the patchouli earth.

Sour grassy vetiver will disperse the body's memory.

And for hours.

I ask for your understanding, but sometimes refreshing silence is the most loving conclusion, if it can even end at all.