Arlington D. R. Harris Cologne

Arlington is - I agree with Yatagan, to whom I also owe the sample of this fragrance - the most original, most independent and at the same time most beautiful of the (known to me) Harris-Colognes. It meets my taste but still not so that it would be enough for a purchase request.

Regular readers of my comments will recall that D.R. Harris is the English brand with the boring customers (Prince Charles) and the boring names for the colognes (Traditional, Classic, Windsor...). What Arlington, an almost shockingly innovative and postmodern polyvalent name for the house, stands for in this case escapes me. Of the 100 places of this name in the English-speaking world, the best known is probably Arlington County in Virginia (USA), the county bordering Washington D.C., which is home to, among other things, the Pentagon and the second largest cemetery in the USA, where John F. Kennedy is also buried. For a brand more English than the Queen, however, it's probably more likely to mean Arlington (Devon), Arlington (East Sussex) or Arlington (Gloucestershire), although I have no clue why a fragrance should be named after these Pampas concentrates.

The fragrance note claims of "fern, citrus notes" are misleading, in my opinion. This is definitely a etas more complex fragrance, for the rest, fern does not smell. If Harris specifies "fern", it's more likely because froggy terms like fougère had to be translated into English for the house's classically traditional clientele. What Harris is telling us is that while he won't tell us the exact ingredients, it's certainly a citrusy fougère. And that's true.

From what I perceive, Arlington begins with a mild but powerful bergamot that has a somewhat herbaceous, medicinal undertone. Staying with the scent development, a waft of a pretty but unplayfully masculine floral soon sets in. That Arlington has a strong floral components, also in the further course, is for me quite unquestionable.

After about 15 minutes, the picture has turned a bit. The citrus now comes across more as a tart pomelo or bitter orange (though not as an astringent grapefruit), the florals have become denser and earthier (strong rose suspicion!) and the now almost pungent herbaceousness entirely olive green (that's also the color of the scent for me). In the end, you're left with a fougère that doesn't even laugh in the cellar and can clench its teeth so well that it will forgo anesthesia even for a medium-sized operation, but through which, quite furtively, and now and then, a bit of fresh and, horribile dictu, in the beginning cheerful citricity still shines through.

On the website of the supplier, the liquid costs 48 pounds for 100 mililiters, to the continent is not delivered (probably Mr Harris is of the opinion: "There is no such thing as a continent called Europe"). I think the fragrance is very masculine and for autumn and winter at least as well suited as for the summer, which is not surprising, because summer and England exclude themselves anyway.