Baudelaire Byredo 2009

It is always something positive when a perfume does not jump at me with citrus notes. So Baudelaire.
Instead, the aromatic juniper berry strides into my nose, while the pepper provides a certain depth and adds some spice and grace to the top note. The pepper then dominates this image for a while. Some woody notes also blend in, and leathery nuances subtly appear in the picture.
From the very beginning, Baudelaire shows an impenetrable depth and density. The scent resembles a dense cloud that continuously devours itself while simultaneously radiating animalistic power, sensual poetry, and aesthetics, almost lightness. Baudelaire also appears threatening.
At this point, it somehow seems a bit too pompous, a little inauthentic as the scent lies in wait and then takes its time to reveal itself. Now, the gate of threat slowly opens, and behind it, the moods become heavy. Although we can expect a bit of floral notes, they almost remain absent. It is too overshadowed by the patchouli. Here, great effort has been made to conjure up a feeling in the scent of dark fire and the dull smoldering of old thoughts. One is meant to contemplate transience from that point onward.

I do think one must approach the scent with a bit of irony. Otherwise, it comes off as overly serious. Despite its dark character, it is a wonderfully beautiful fragrance, masterfully crafted.

Baudelaire always reminds me of Stravinsky's "The Rite of Spring" in its mystical character or Hindemith in his spiritualization. Perhaps also Mozart's or Zimmermann's Requiem. At least, it is deeply expressive music. Thus, I am also an absolute lover of Baudelaire.
This scent is a captivating homage to "The Flowers of Evil" and its author (who, by the way, was the first to describe the effects of hashish, both scientifically and poetically).

Gradually, the heart note becomes increasingly leathery, and a spicy aftertaste mixes in. The scent appears less deep but broader. At times, it radiates brightly. Occasionally, hints of fruity-sour yet dry notes emerge, possibly from the papyrus. I could also imagine smelling some musk here.
Ben Gorham creates a tension field here, a fragrance that always hovers between bitter fruitiness and amber warmth. A difficult undertaking, but very successful.
The development now steadily moves towards earthy warm and animalistic accords. The scent becomes more sublime and calmer. The power that was present at the beginning is no longer discernible.
It becomes increasingly earthy and warm, and ultimately our leathery poet fades into profound twilight, dense woody earth accords.