De Bachmakov The Different Company 2010

De Bachmakov opens with a fresh near bitter green sharp aromatic fig and bergamot combo. As the composition enters the early heart phase the green fig somewhat settles down to allow the bergamot to dominate as slowly a woody vetiver-like undertone permeates the sharp citrus. During the late dry-down the bergamot and bitter-green fig never completely disappear, instead they now support the soft woody accord that takes on the mantle of star through the finish. Projection is average to slightly above average, as is longevity at 7-9 hours on skin.

De Bachmakov is a composition that while relatively bare-bones is quite skillfully executed by Ms. Ellena. On the one hand its piercingly sharp green nature can come off as cold and clinical, but once you get used to it the overall fragrance profile is actually quite captivating. The composition is quite linear, but as the aromatic green fig softens during the dry-down the composition has an opening to let its subtle woody facets shine through. The bottom line is the $230 per 90ml bottle De Bachmakov is quite the hard sell at its relatively expensive cost per milliliter, but while the composition can be quite clinical, linear and spare it does smell good earning a "very good" 3.5 stars out of 5 and is indeed recommended.

Tarragon. That's what I thought that I was detecting upon initial application of The Different Company DE BACHMAKOV. Shiso leaves appear to be the note which imparts wafts of that particular, familiar greenish scent to this fine perfume.

I am reminded vaguely of Isabella Rossellini MANIFESTO, which has a similar overall aesthetic, but unfortunately is fatally marred by its probably entirely synthetic--and to me poisonous--components. I owned MANIFESTO for about a decade and finally swapped it away because I found it utterly unwearable. DE BACHMAKOV offers an excellent example of why people turn to niche perfume: no poison here whatsoever, just a pleasing blend of green notes, wood, light spices and light woods, which conspire to produce a truly enjoyable composition perfect for summer and spring.

I recommend this composition to guys and gals alike who appreciate a very natural-smelling clean and green cologne. Simple yet satisfying.

A gorgeous opening greets me in De Bachmakov, it makes me go "ooooh", and I immediately smell that addictive shiso leaf that makes me gobble up umeshiso maki rolls, with facets of mint, basil, and a sharp tingly top note and a spicy under current. This is divine—for the first five minutes, and then... poof.

The radiance is then muted, and while a lovely skin scent, it leaves so much more to be desired. A murmur of milky fig and feeble ambery woods is not going to keep my motor running. It's "nice", but "nice" doesn't make my heart skip a beat. So, while De Bachmakov opens with much promise and feels divine, it's front-loaded and bottoms out into something so fragile, too fragile for a big galoot like me.

I am blind. And that's why there are many sample senders here who come up with the most wonderful ideas to mark the scents for me, so I don't have to have them read out loud by unwilling friends with poor French pronunciation every other moment. Igraine, for example, has devised an incredibly clever system with perforated paper strips that has brought me great joy for the past few weeks and has made recognition 100 percent easier in a simple way. So let's move on to the fragrance with the six-fold punched paper piece at the edge.
I applied it before I looked at the list and played "what could it be" once again. I would never have guessed "De Bachmakov" given everything I've read and heard about it. My impression is as follows: The opening is a very original sharp acidity. I have no idea where that comes from, since only bergamot is used here, but an impression is an impression. :) This acidity is underpinned by a healthy green tone and is almost juicy bright. It reminds me very much of sour strings. Those squiggly, tactilely rough candy items that, except for a very few, everyone avoids because the resulting contractions of the mouth are really no fun. However, I find this sensation very appealing in my nose.

In the heart reigns a dark, foreign green. A dim thicket full of carried calm, yet a thousand secret soft stirrings whisper. The listed notes are very unfamiliar to me, which makes identification difficult. But this is one of those remarkable fragrances that are far more than just the sum of their parts. And in the end, amber shimmers and gives this entire noble composition its deserved soft foundation.
"De Bachmakov" is for me a very exquisite perfume full of rare charms and astonishing combinatorial art. Light and deep at the same time. It deserves more comments.

A few days ago, I found myself - as I have so often - stuck in traffic on the highway for a while. It wasn't a really bad jam (one where you turn off the engine and get out), every now and then we moved a few meters. Outside, it was neither cold nor warm, and it was drizzling lightly - not really nice weather for August in Germany - and even the hills of the Westerwald, shimmering in the rain, looked a bit sad.

On the green strip between the two directions - I could see this well because I was in the left lane - a lonely thistle was growing among a few brave goldenrods. Part of it had already wilted a bit, but it was still blooming in shy purple. And as it stood there all alone in no man's land between Cologne and Frankfurt right on the A3 in the rain - it had a melancholic beauty and poetry.

A very similar shy beauty and poetry - not sad, but also not cheerful, full of silent dignity and upright - but the opposite of proud - I also find in The Different Company's De Bachmakov. Calmly and subtly orchestrated, it moves between cooler (at the beginning) and warmer phases (towards the end), quietly telling in muted gray-green about the rain on the median strip of the highway in the Westerwald.

Shiso (or Perilla) is perhaps its most exciting or seemingly most exciting fragrance ingredient - a plant that, despite its exotic appearance, is fundamentally inconspicuous, growing in wastelands (certainly also those on green strips between highways). The aromas attributed to it range from minty-fresh to citrusy to anise - Japanese umeboshi are pickled with shiso. There is also a restrained fruity accord - sour-fruity, but never really fresh - and time and again, seconds-long subtle hints of spices - is there something like white pepper in there? - and a mineral note like the wet asphalt of the highway - not cold, but too cool to be truly warm. All of this does not impose itself but demands a second sniff and a second look, wanting to be discovered and understood.

Conclusion: still gray-green calm in the back row. Those who, like me, greatly appreciate such scents and wish to immerse themselves in them will discover more in De Bachmakov than 'just' the so exotically appearing shiso leaf. Just as the median strip of the A3 unexpectedly reveals poetry - if you only take a moment to look while stuck in traffic.