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Noble Beauty
Color me spellbound: this is, for me, special reserve, special occasion material. With as many facets as a radiant cut diamond, Rouge de Lubin delivers a feast for the nose, It opens with a salmagundi of green, aromatic herbs—basil, rosemary, oregano—it also has a pinch of aniseed that punctuates the aromatics with a twinkle.
The green herbaceousness merges with a dry clove, cinnamic undertones, smoky cedar and coniferous splendor. My nose feels a granular texture; warm ripples, a sensuous potency, an accelerated heartbeat. Growing, tenting, it seems to inhabit a now mythic world in a present that seems riddled with impotent ennui and smartphone hypnosis. It's catnip for a sorry sod like me who loses himself in nostalgia—but I digress!
The base feels like castoreum-tinged leather imbued with frankincense, shaded with a loamy patchouli, and a broad brush stroke of forest flourish. My mind doesn't turn to tycoons, nor mobsters, nor mafioso when imagining the persona of Rouge. I think of one who is far more noble, statesman-like, and perhaps philanthropic. Good guys can be sexy, too...
We could reduce Rouge to a luxury fragrance marketed to men, embodying trope in fashion during the release; we could compare it to other fragrances, Derby, Le Troisieme Homme, and drain all the mystique out of it. Just like its delightfully peculiar translucent red enclosure, Rouge is an anomaly, a legend, and I only want to be in rapturous wonder while wearing it and musing about it, relishing each moment of its ephemera.
The green herbaceousness merges with a dry clove, cinnamic undertones, smoky cedar and coniferous splendor. My nose feels a granular texture; warm ripples, a sensuous potency, an accelerated heartbeat. Growing, tenting, it seems to inhabit a now mythic world in a present that seems riddled with impotent ennui and smartphone hypnosis. It's catnip for a sorry sod like me who loses himself in nostalgia—but I digress!
The base feels like castoreum-tinged leather imbued with frankincense, shaded with a loamy patchouli, and a broad brush stroke of forest flourish. My mind doesn't turn to tycoons, nor mobsters, nor mafioso when imagining the persona of Rouge. I think of one who is far more noble, statesman-like, and perhaps philanthropic. Good guys can be sexy, too...
We could reduce Rouge to a luxury fragrance marketed to men, embodying trope in fashion during the release; we could compare it to other fragrances, Derby, Le Troisieme Homme, and drain all the mystique out of it. Just like its delightfully peculiar translucent red enclosure, Rouge is an anomaly, a legend, and I only want to be in rapturous wonder while wearing it and musing about it, relishing each moment of its ephemera.
Jjcolbourne
