I can't properly express how I feel about this fragrance, but from the first moment I sprayed it, I've been utterly smitten. It has quickly become one of my all time favorite fragrances. In my eyes, it's pretty much perfect. It's difficult to describe how this smells. You can look at the note breakdown, but it's not really going to help you. This is a master class of blending. Yes, the dominant note is benzoin, and I'm sure there is some iris, guiac wood, and incense in there somewhere. But when I wear Bois d'Armenie, I can't dissect it the way that I can with other fragrances. This isn't about that. It's about giving you an experience, creating an atmosphere, a mood, a feeling. This doesn't fit at all into the tiresome trend of fragrances being about exactly what's on the tin. This isn't some "Santal 33" or "Vanilla Oud" or "Orange and Musk"; in that regard, Bois d'Armenie even sets itself apart from the rest of the L'Art et la Matiere series. Thank god they didn't call it "Benzoin Encens" or something silly like that. The name itself sparks the imagination: Bois d'Armenie, Armenian Wood (it sounds a lot better in French of course). In ye olden days, you had names like "Opium", "Samsara", "Egoiste", "Shalimar", "Fahrenheit", names that were meant to evoke an idea, rather than simply describe the ingredients in the bottle. Can we go back to that, please? Do we really need more ugly fragrance names like "Wood and Spice" or "Oud & Santal"? Anyway, let me get off my soapbox. I'm here to wax lyrical about my beloved BdA.
This is a gilded fragrance that conjures up a crepuscular, autumnal atmosphere. It reminds me of brocaded silk, a beautiful city built of stone, the rasping of dead leaves on cobbles, the cold breath of the wind, that particular way in which the autumn light falls at a slant that illuminates everything more richly, as if it had been passed through amber. There is great beauty here, but it is faded beauty, lost beauty. It's like an old, early color picture of a party. The opening is like being there, feeling totally present, smelling the beautiful people in expensive clothes, seeing the candlelight refracted through the crystal champagne flutes, feeling the serotinal chill slowly being warded off by a roaring fire. There is something liqueur-like in the opening, almost akin to the boozy vanilla note in Spiriteuse Double Vanille or Tonka Imperiale. But as the fragrances dries, the richness and slight booziness of the opening fades. The characteristic Guerlain dustiness begins to take over, powdery incense and resins and patchouli and woods, a wisp of smoke from a burning leaf of papier d'Armenie which is slowly but surely burning away to ashes. The color has been drained to sepia, the fire has died, the wine's all been drunk, the candles blown out by the wind. All that remains is the room which has absorbed the reverie, retains the perfumes of the ladies, the smoke of the fire and the extinguished cigars, the spilt brandy, the baking sweets. And through the window the city lights blink out one by one.
This is a masterpiece, one of the best in a house full of greats. The quality, blending, and performance are all superb (though this is not a beast). It is expensive, but totally worth it. Memoirs of a Trespasser doesn't even come close. But this is a very personal fragrance for me. It might not be for everyone. Try before you buy, for sure. Then join the cult, like I did.
