Top Review
Courage Makes the Beginning
I find Dry Wood to be a bold creation, and it exemplifies how a perfumer can create something incredibly exciting by deviating from the consensus. In this respect, the result must also be recognized as something new and unique, capable of holding its own in the fast-paced market. One can only wish that for this perfume.
Dry Wood has little to do with 'dry wood' and much more with the theme of sandalwood, albeit indirectly. Since the global stocks of this highly sought-after raw material in the perfume industry can no longer meet demand, chemistry has stepped in (Firmenich, Givaudan & Co.), which has since offered corresponding substitutes. Javanol, Okoumal, Ebanol, and indeed Norlimbanol are fragrance components that nowadays replace or complement sandalwood in most perfumes labeled as 'sandalwood.' Interestingly, these individual molecules cannot collectively imitate the scent of sandalwood but rather embody individual aspects of it: spicy, milky, or woody-creamy, etc.
Dry Wood is a perfume that has chosen such an artificial fragrance component as its guiding motif, namely Norlimbanol. I would assert that there is a good 10% Norlimbanol in the perfume concentrate, which is quite a lot. Of course, I cannot prove this. I have a small vial of it here, and when I sniff it or rub a drop of the thick liquid on my wrist, it is exactly the final phase of Dry Wood. Spicy, woody, green, somewhat indolic, faintly reminiscent of laurel, with a sparkling acidity, similar to Vetiveryl Acetate in certain perfumes (Sycomore, Encre noire), but still different, somehow more substantial. Apicius praised Ramon Monegal in his comment for the transparency in the fragrance specifications. I wholeheartedly share this view; I believe that if such brilliant (art) molecules are available, one should also stand by them. The mostly positive voices here seem to agree with Monegal for his daring. I find Dry Wood to be a true alternative to Terre d’Hermès or other zesty-spicy vetiver scents, especially in summer.
In this, DW is not just Norlimbanol, which alone would probably soon bore its wearer. The citron is a no less brilliant addition to this fragrance. And this is by no means an ordinary lemon, but one of the variety that grows on the Italian Amalfi Coast. Heavy, thick-skinned fruits that are often processed into candied lemon peel (citron). Another specialty of the Campania region is a liqueur made from the peels of the local lemons, Limoncello. Such a liqueur-like, creamy lemon can be found in DW, but without sacrificing the inherent acidity that keeps the whole pleasantly zesty and bitter, which corresponds well with the inherent 'acidity' of Norlimbanol, or rather transitions seamlessly into it.
The other ingredients, bay leaf, pepper, and mint, are, in my opinion, just nice accompaniments that do not shake the radiant duo of lemon/Norlimbanol much. The composition feels seamless, and I find Apicius's comparison to a robust red wine very apt (though I would rather say white wine); it is a creation that has not been bent to mass taste but has preserved its edges and corners, its bitterness, and a bit of astringency. Indeed, beauty that arises in the eye or on the tongue (or in our case: in the nose) of the beholder. Another term for this would be 'terroir,' meaning not interchangeable mass stuff, but a product with soul and recognizability.
A surprisingly simple but not uniform affair, this Dry Wood. Chapeau, Señor Monegal!
Dry Wood has little to do with 'dry wood' and much more with the theme of sandalwood, albeit indirectly. Since the global stocks of this highly sought-after raw material in the perfume industry can no longer meet demand, chemistry has stepped in (Firmenich, Givaudan & Co.), which has since offered corresponding substitutes. Javanol, Okoumal, Ebanol, and indeed Norlimbanol are fragrance components that nowadays replace or complement sandalwood in most perfumes labeled as 'sandalwood.' Interestingly, these individual molecules cannot collectively imitate the scent of sandalwood but rather embody individual aspects of it: spicy, milky, or woody-creamy, etc.
Dry Wood is a perfume that has chosen such an artificial fragrance component as its guiding motif, namely Norlimbanol. I would assert that there is a good 10% Norlimbanol in the perfume concentrate, which is quite a lot. Of course, I cannot prove this. I have a small vial of it here, and when I sniff it or rub a drop of the thick liquid on my wrist, it is exactly the final phase of Dry Wood. Spicy, woody, green, somewhat indolic, faintly reminiscent of laurel, with a sparkling acidity, similar to Vetiveryl Acetate in certain perfumes (Sycomore, Encre noire), but still different, somehow more substantial. Apicius praised Ramon Monegal in his comment for the transparency in the fragrance specifications. I wholeheartedly share this view; I believe that if such brilliant (art) molecules are available, one should also stand by them. The mostly positive voices here seem to agree with Monegal for his daring. I find Dry Wood to be a true alternative to Terre d’Hermès or other zesty-spicy vetiver scents, especially in summer.
In this, DW is not just Norlimbanol, which alone would probably soon bore its wearer. The citron is a no less brilliant addition to this fragrance. And this is by no means an ordinary lemon, but one of the variety that grows on the Italian Amalfi Coast. Heavy, thick-skinned fruits that are often processed into candied lemon peel (citron). Another specialty of the Campania region is a liqueur made from the peels of the local lemons, Limoncello. Such a liqueur-like, creamy lemon can be found in DW, but without sacrificing the inherent acidity that keeps the whole pleasantly zesty and bitter, which corresponds well with the inherent 'acidity' of Norlimbanol, or rather transitions seamlessly into it.
The other ingredients, bay leaf, pepper, and mint, are, in my opinion, just nice accompaniments that do not shake the radiant duo of lemon/Norlimbanol much. The composition feels seamless, and I find Apicius's comparison to a robust red wine very apt (though I would rather say white wine); it is a creation that has not been bent to mass taste but has preserved its edges and corners, its bitterness, and a bit of astringency. Indeed, beauty that arises in the eye or on the tongue (or in our case: in the nose) of the beholder. Another term for this would be 'terroir,' meaning not interchangeable mass stuff, but a product with soul and recognizability.
A surprisingly simple but not uniform affair, this Dry Wood. Chapeau, Señor Monegal!
Translated · Show original
8 Comments
Better terroir than terreur, the other French specialty... ;-)