Bernard

...I had already got hold of a scent that I didn't really like that much.

Was it the charming professionally trained salesman, my reluctance to buy my fourth pair of Ami designer jeans or to finally get hold of THE New York souvenir that could survive time and space and still remind me years later of the trip of my life in the city that never sleeps? Maybe it was just my latent jet lag fatigue, the overstimulation of Manhattan and the sticky muff of the New York Subway that I wanted to get rid of. Whatever...

I thought to myself, "You could do with a new fragrance," when my wife suggested we split up to increase our shopping efficiency given the incredible size of Macy's temple of consumption. Every shrewd horror movie fan, knows what "We'll split up here, you go that way, I'll keep looking here..." means for the rest of the plot! No good

So I strolled rather bored through the perfumery and cosmetics department and was pushed at each, every stand, as permanently as at St. Pauli or the bazaar of Marrakech. There are people who like this. Not me like this. After my first set of nerves had worn out, I was actually just looking for a quiet corner. In a niche near the escalators I then got into conversation with an Austrian woman overloaded with about 47 shopping bags and we chatted about the sense and nonsense of shopping marathons. At that time it was at least free of ideology and very amusing. But it went on, I couldn't go to the meeting point agreed with my wife empty-handed. I needed a souvenir from NY, perfume always works. We all know that

After the 00's I had finally got the Hugo and Boss botteld phase behind me and some others in duty free auctioned offshoots of this house could not convince me for a long time. The fourth or fifth bottle of Versace pH should not be for me anymore, as much as I liked it as a longtime companion through my nights. Likewise, my aging fondness for D&G had relegated me to the league of irrelevance, and the original version of Armani Pour Homme that I loved so dearly had disappeared when I was busy with more important things in the 90s. And had I ever suspected that Jil Sander Man would stop outshining the fragrance heaven, I would have bought a 1000 l IBC container full to the brim with it! I swear

Well, so I stood somewhat lost in front of a showcase with noble, beautiful and hopelessly outdated looking fountain pens from the company with the thick white star. These unique looking ink pens had an unexpectedly calming effect on me in the hustle and bustle of this crazy metropolis. And 'poof' I was in conversation with the hyper-friendly salesman (Im AMiLand, ne. die sind da so.), who praised my modest English skills to the skies and directed the conversation to this new fragrance Flanker from Montblanc. Another 10 minutes later, I had a heavy, masculine, matt metallic, very valuable bottle and a fragrance that looked suspiciously familiar to me. This fresh sweetness did not seem so new to me, I had it in my nose before. But where? A little later, when the fragrance became softer, more comfortable, and not quite as synthetically clean, I was more likely to like it. Only it did not remind me of my preferences of the past years. Why did I buy it? Too clumsy and stacking, really. No, nothing elegant about it. So deliberately styled. He pretends to be noble, but he isn't. A dazzler even?

In the evening, in the hotel bar on the 37th or 39th floor with a view of the UN building, I was annoyed at first about the dollars of our travel budget that had been rashly squandered and swore that I would never again buy any perfume rashly or thoughtlessly. (Yes, I admit, my plan worked out really well later on.) "Oh, fuck it" I thought after the 7th or 8th Bud light, "just have the scent that will remind you of New York, the kind of soulless synthetic crap you'll never get again."

A day later, we stroll down Fifth Avenue and pass this black wrapped shop where dozens of teenagers were pushed (again!) by 20 year old six-packs of Schönlingen. My wife and I of course went inside, because we wanted to have a say in the next party small talk. 2014 must have been the highlight of this Abercrombie & Fitch hipes, which I find completely incomprehensible. Every city in our homeland from Eckernförde to Füssen, from Görlitz to Castrop-Rauxel had to have such a dark, tight butt with overpriced clothes from the sweatshops of Bangladesh. "Inside, the salesmen run around completely naked and you get sprayed with perfume to increase the desire to buy." that's what I heard. Well, only the latter rumor turned out to be true. But...

...that was him. I just bought that scent yesterday. "Hey guys, can we buy pens here?" I shouted enthusiastically. No, there wasn't. It must have been that Pierce guy that got up my nose. But I had my New York souvenir scent. I don't care if it's Fierce or Legend, a spring afternoon on Fifth Avenue, this is what it smells like. Of course not, Fifth Avenue reeks of car fumes. But everything that my wife and I experienced together in unforgettable moments in this crazy, equally fascinating and repulsive city in the first warm rays of sunshine in April 2014 immediately comes to mind when I put on Montblanc Legend Intens. Although I don't think it's sooooo great, I like to smell it. I'm getting sentimental. And Montblanc Legend Intense really doesn't deserve it, the old fake who!

...hence music:

Top note - "Disco Inferno" The Trammps
Heart note - "Heaven's in the back seat of my Cadillac" Hot Chocolate
Base note - " Rock your babe" George McCrea

What an old sow, this sex appeal!

First of all: everyone born after the year of publication of this little water, i.e. 1975, should keep their hands off this Puig product. This classic Saubermann fragrance is too old-fashioned and conservative. Men who have not yet bought their ticket to the last third of their lives do not really need to deal with this supposed preciosity. Oldschoolers like me, on the other hand, have their modest joy for well and gladly three hours and had to invest just the equivalent of a CurrywurstPommesMajo.

So it was the Godfather of all dandies who had to serve as the patron saint of this fragrance. I don't exactly see why it had to be like this. If you consider that this Beau Brummel - ancestor Oscar Wildes, Stephen Frys, Morrisseys and many more. - for his morning routine including his wardrobe alone took a mere five hours, the naming turns out to be rather pompous. It's as if an old regional league classic like Wuppertaler SV - RW Essen is now announced as the game of the decade. Well, maybe it was like that in 1975, but today it looks a bit thick. The name of the little water does not do justice to the icon that has shaped men's fashion for centuries, especially in this bottle that is completely free of style and fantasy. Beau Bummel would have deserved a glamorous, cultivated and extravagant hit in the finest dress as its fragrance counterpart. But what soll´s? Names are only sound and smoke anyway and it does not apply here to evaluate the name. When I think about what belongs to the survivors of the EdT Brummel from 1975 today, 2019, 1975, it wrestles a certain respect from me. Anyone who's been on the market that long deserves my benevolence. Enough of the tearing! Let's be good, fair play is the gentleman's highest command. In addition, we are in a price range here, which already for every quiet nagger deservedly yellow because of complaining after itself. I have shot a 2 x 250 ml set consisting of AS and EdT for not even 9 € (!) in the net. Lowest budget ever. No more oiling around.

Brummel's brother in spirit is unquestionably the Teutonic Evergreen Tabac Original. But a similar cult worship might not be granted to him in Spain or anywhere else in the world. Almost 20 years later he was allowed to celebrate the premiere of our favourite Tabac, so in my opinion the stigma of the copy clings to him. And anyone who has had the chance to taste Farina's Russian leather knows the difference between a simple copy (Brummel) and an extremely successful interpretation (Russian leather).

What's it like now, the scent? A pungent, citrusy opening is wrapped in soapy lavender and a little camomile and thus quickly rendered harmless, followed by very brave, familiar wood notes and a little amber. The base is balsamic to slightly soapy, but volatile. Anything else? Nope, I don't think so. I'm missing the oakmoss. Pleasant for two three hours, yes, yes. Everything looks so clean and neat after shave. Male "unagitated". Doesn't hurt either. The After Shave of the same name can be layered very luxuriously because of me and so even escalating Brummel users leave only a pleasantly cultivated impression, which won't disturb anyone and won't really impress anyone. Also not in Wuppertal.

How can I resist the temptation if the price of an EdC is less than 3 € / 100 ml? Especially since it is supposed to be one of the much conjured Barbershop classics.

I have always wondered which target group this ominous Lustray line is aimed at, at Pinaud Clubman you can get very solid drugstore goods for the US market at (there) very reasonable prices, Lustray is - so my impression - the cheap version of the house and in a big emergency even as a canister. My expectations tend towards zero at first, like a Mettigel on the party buffet. That is also oldshool, rosy and just as unsightly as the plastic bottle.

Flacon: s.o. Unsightly! I've got better things in the garage or in the tool room. But you shouldn't let the Pinaud / Lustray bottles scare you off, otherwise you would let one or the other pearl go through your rags. Remind me in the Lustray line of discount beer pullovers a´la Lidl. Spooky and without exception made of plastic, which I actually wanted to banish from my household for reasons of conscience.

Durability: I'd be at the headline. So disappointingly lukewarm and flat-chested, at best at the level of an aftershave. Measurable in minutes.

Sillage: Was there anything? Even for the highly sensitive noses of my tomcats I remain virtually invisible in terms of smell. Also for my two-legged gold treasure. Even for myself.

Fragrance: Fresh pineapple briefly tossed in herbs of Provence and extinguished with a hint of musk. Good, good, good. Solid. Simple. Proven.

Conclusion: In the main subject a 2, otherwise only 5s and 6s on the certificate. Not enough for the transfer, then. Class goal missed.

Oh nee!
As a self-confessed fan of the Pinaud Clubman series, all of which have not without reason defied all adversities and landed in the modern age, I am for the first time unpleasantly surprised by what smells towards me from the plastic bottle. Yes, it smells musty, so peculiarly musty after past floral fragrance.

First of all, it should be noted that PC Lilac Vegetal should and can be used as After Shave and Bodysplash and it is not an EdC or similar, so the fragrance property is rather secondary. However, after shave offshoots of many colognes and eau de toilettes have been adequately reviewed and discussed here and legends of shaving passions have left their mark on many of the perfumistas. For the rest of our lives we like to remember the warmth, the freshness, the spice or anything else that radiated from Daddy's little water and that makes us all crave the security of days long gone. And before man knows it, man becomes a vintage nostalgist and reaches for everything that suggests to his nose the faded splendour of the good old days.

Legend has it that Eduard Pinaud designed this shaving lounger over 150 years ago for the Hungarian hussars, so that they could probably court the ladies in their dashing dress uniforms when they didn't have to gallop all over the Pusta. I can well imagine that the ladies of the time must have fled as well, as if the sons of Pusta on horseback had blown their attack at a straight gallop with their sabers pulled out.

With the force comparable to a cavalry attack, the musty lilac from the bottle slams into my face, taking my breath away. The sweet musk probably took a detour through the urinal and I smell as if neighbor Lumpi had peed under my lilac tree. Neighbour's bawdy Lumpy, though. In fact, for me a strange undernote of Pippi is perceptible, which excuses me at - please! - the flats of old single ladies or old people's home corridors remind us: the lilac bouquet has stood 1 1/2 days too long in the vase, the furniture steams dusty mist out and sharp WC cleaners and urine mist do their best to add to this unpleasant melange.

Even if I should be gracious, tolerant and indulgent, with such a long-lasting product, here for me the boundary between smells good and smells no longer fresh is clearly crossed. The silage is mediocre and the spook after 3 - 4 hours also thankfully over.

To get a foretaste of your own decay and finiteness of being after shaving, Lilac Vegetal is certainly o.k., but who wants that?! This lilac has nothing in common with the wonderful world of a lilac tree in the Maisonne. Just, what do I do with the other 350 ml now?