1
Translated
Show original
The triumph of the nobles (and why CDNIM can't quite keep up)
Many people associate fruity men's fragrances with power, presence and attention
Club de Nuit Intense Man (CDNIM), for example: loud, fresh, striking. A fragrance that doesn't ask, but commands.
But Aventus by Creed takes a different, much more subtle approach.
Here, the journey begins not in an open square, but in the quiet corridors of a stately home.
The air carries the subtle scent of pineapple, apple and blackcurrant, but not raw, not garish.
It is as if these fruits had been wrapped in silk, arranged on a silver platter and presented with powder-dusted kid gloves.
Aventus possesses an elegance that refuses to be explained, it is simply there.
It opens fruity, but with a dry noblesse that is immediately recognizable: No one just smells good here, someone smells right.
While CDNIM tries to make an impression with similar notes, it lacks exactly that:
The depth, the softness, the powderiness.
Where Aventus seems like a fragrance from an ivory-colored box, CDNIM remains more of a well-made copy on a loud laminate.
Solid, but without the aristocratic understatement, without the elegance between the notes.
Over time, Aventus glides into warmer, woody realms: birch, patchouli, a hint of leather, never dominant, always balanced.
Everything is finely interwoven, as if it were smoky notes gliding over polished furniture.
CDNIM often moves along in this phase, but he doesn't wear white gloves, he wears sneakers.
His smoke is edgier, almost sooty.
Not like tobacco, but like charred wood without finesse.
In the end, Aventus is left with a noble veil of musk, oakmoss and vanilla.
Not a fragrance that lingers because it screams, but because it whispers.
CDNIM also stays, but you can tell the difference: Aventus says goodbye like a gentleman from the old days. CDNIM leaves as if he still has to impress someone.
But Aventus by Creed takes a different, much more subtle approach.
Here, the journey begins not in an open square, but in the quiet corridors of a stately home.
The air carries the subtle scent of pineapple, apple and blackcurrant, but not raw, not garish.
It is as if these fruits had been wrapped in silk, arranged on a silver platter and presented with powder-dusted kid gloves.
Aventus possesses an elegance that refuses to be explained, it is simply there.
It opens fruity, but with a dry noblesse that is immediately recognizable: No one just smells good here, someone smells right.
While CDNIM tries to make an impression with similar notes, it lacks exactly that:
The depth, the softness, the powderiness.
Where Aventus seems like a fragrance from an ivory-colored box, CDNIM remains more of a well-made copy on a loud laminate.
Solid, but without the aristocratic understatement, without the elegance between the notes.
Over time, Aventus glides into warmer, woody realms: birch, patchouli, a hint of leather, never dominant, always balanced.
Everything is finely interwoven, as if it were smoky notes gliding over polished furniture.
CDNIM often moves along in this phase, but he doesn't wear white gloves, he wears sneakers.
His smoke is edgier, almost sooty.
Not like tobacco, but like charred wood without finesse.
In the end, Aventus is left with a noble veil of musk, oakmoss and vanilla.
Not a fragrance that lingers because it screams, but because it whispers.
CDNIM also stays, but you can tell the difference: Aventus says goodbye like a gentleman from the old days. CDNIM leaves as if he still has to impress someone.