Classic D. R. Harris

As teenagers we were backpacking around Scotland and came across a beautifully maintained garden, with roses of course, where an older distinguished gentleman was present and approaching. We practised our school English, a conversation got going and it turned out that the landlord and gardener was like the garden and had retired to the Scottish countryside. There are two things I remember exactly from our conversation. That he told us that some animals (moles I suppose) were bothering him and his wife was urging him to kill them. But he can't do that, he always catches them and drives them with the car so far away into the forest that they hopefully won't come back. And that we asked him if he had ever been in Germany. To which he replied dryly, not directly, but quite often about Germany, and he added: Cologne. Fortunately, we understood quickly enough not to deepen the subject, which was not suitable for a cheerful travel chat, by further questions, and shortly afterwards we said goodbye politely.

The (not invented) story came to my mind a) because with roses, cologne and British peculiarities it contains essential elements of this fragrance and b) just in time because I can't think of much about the fragrance itself.

Classic (not to be confused with the recently reviewed Traditional) does not open in a sooo classical way. Classic (on citric) on the island would be Bitter Orange Marmalade (with or without whisky) or Lemon Curd (I guess the former, I think the latter is one of those British aberrations). But here, lemon sorbet decorated with iced bergamot marmalade is served. Very fresh, very sweet, quite unorthodox, quite bright and zero orange. The sweetness soon disappears, it gets a bit harsher then.

And then a light green, slightly moist, slightly tangy herbal note and a discreet and, as is not uncommon with roses, opaque rose is added to the citric. Rose is - especially in Colognes - not my preferred note. But even if I try to abstract from this special feature: Especially the rose manages, despite its very discreet use, to transform this little summery water into one of those densely woven, tweedy rain colognes in riding boots with wet earth on them, which always seem to me to betray the Mediterranean genus.

Conclusion: Harris Classic is, from a Farina standard point of view, not so much a classic cologne (less so as a traditional from the same house, at least), but rather a somewhat original light citrus cologne, in which the initial, thoroughly exciting sweetness and the later insular rosy impermeability give the door handle to each other. The performance is (after a brilliant first minute) modest.

The target group seems to me to consist of conservative, rock-solid older gentlemen in the City of London with a longing for Victorian times and little inclination towards un-British, ergo dubious Italian colonias or Teutonic cologne. Since this target group probably doesn't exist anymore (I haven't been on the island for a long time), I predict Classic to be discontinued soon
Good point for me.