DAVID043329

Zino Eau de Toilette is one of those fragrances that I came to because of the approachable price tag, and I stayed because of the beautiful scent. It carries that vintage barbershop vibe from the late 80s like few others do, and the composition itself is done masterfully. It's probably Davidoff's best juice ever and my definition of a "feel-good" scent.

Now, let me start by saying that if you're not too fond of lavender, then this might not be for you, because the opening hits you with a blast of intoxicating lavender, aided by some citrus and spice in the background and a herbaceous/sweet clary sage. The rosewood brings its own character to the play, enveloping the whole scent in a warm woody-floral aura. It's honestly one of my favorite openings in a fragrance. Also, did I mention the lavender? I did? Good.

Moving on, the heart notes make their apparition, very smoothly so. You get the slight floral freshness with green nuances from lily of the valley, the darker and iconic rose spicy-sweet odor, and a touch of jasmine sweetness. The geranium blends in with the rose, adding maybe a more notable herbaceous edge. Either way, the lavender is still the main protagonist, easily overpowering the rest of its peers.

Lastly, Zino Eau de Toilette treats us with a delightful base of creamy, warm, soothing sandalwood, paired and balanced perfectly with the vanilla and tonka bean. The patchouli is held in a leash, not overpowering the rest of the notes with its typical earthy, musky, rich odor, but it is still detectable. You'll hardly pick up on the amber on its own, given how well it blends in with the rest of the notes that share accords. The lavender keeps going strong for like the first two hours of the wearing, after which you're left with a creamy, warm base of goodness.

But all good things have their endings, unfortunately. And Zino Eau de Toilette's arrives too soon. Its performance is decent at best, getting about 6 hours on my skin. Others seem to get better longevity out of it, while others even worse. Is it skin chemistry, is it batch differences, is it both... who knows? All I wish for is a couple of more hours. Similar story in terms of projection. About two feet of projection for the first half an hour, after which it takes a step down to about one foot for one more hour or so, and then it pretty much becomes a skin scent. Hardly impressive performance overall, but in the end, even good things in excess become bad for you, so... I'll take it as it is.

Back on the positive route, Zino Eau de Toilette also proved to be one of the most versatile fragrances I've tested. Its softer projection surely aids it in this, but even the scent on its own, it fits nearly any context I can think of in any weather. Leisure wear, school, work, dressed-up events, dates... Not really Swiss Army Knife-level of versatility, but it is damn easy to wear.

And given all that, it's no wonder how Zino Eau de Toilette became one of the fragrances I reached out to the most in my cabinet (samples/decants included) in just a matter of days. It's soothing, calming, gentle; it's easy to wear, it's smooth and well-blended, it's EXTRAORDINARILY priced ($20 for 125ml)... If only that performance was a nudge better, it would've been signature-worthy for me. But nonetheless, if I'm ever unsure what to wear and just want something simple yet comforting, I reach for Zino Eau de Toilette.

Overall Rating: 6.7/10

I don't generally venture into reviewing feminine perfumes, but I said I might give my thoughts on Hundred Silent Ways Extrait de Parfum anyways, as even though it is clearly feminine, I don't think it is much more feminine than the unisex-labeled Tuberóza Extrait de Parfum, which I have already reviewed.

In contrast to that one, however, which put most of its focus on the white floral notes and left the rest behind closed doors, Hundred Silent Ways Extrait de Parfum adds a pleasant peach fruitiness and a creamy-sweet base. The mandarin orange opens things up with a juicy-sweet tone, hardly citrusy. The peach soon joins in with its unmistakable velvety, fuzzy fruitiness, whilst being accompanied by rich tuberose sweetness. Just the peach and tuberose from the opening give the fragrance a clear feminine direction.

And the continuance at the heart just reinforces that, with jasmine and gardenia driving the scent to a white floral sweetness, without necessarily overpowering the peach, arguably the signature note of the blend. There is some orris present as well, although not much or any powderiness, really. Just a more distinct floral touch, which is easily overpowered by its peers.

At the base, things turn from creamy-floral to sandalwood and vanilla-creamy. Surely, the floral vibe carries the whole scent across the entire wearing, with the peach from the opening holding up very well, quite a few hours into my testing. But the vanilla smoothness, paired with the slightly warm, soft, and creamy sandalwood at the base definitely don't go unnoticed. The vetiver does, however, of which I barely got any.

I admit that performance surprised me here. Most Nishanes I have tested so far proved to be rather short-lasting on my skin. But Hundred Silent Ways Extrait de Parfum took a solid 8-9 hours before fading completely. Interesting how the feminine scent did better in terms of longevity than the other unisex/more masculine-leaning fumes. As for projection, it was okay, with about 2 feet of projection at most for the first hour, after which it would settle to a one foot bubble around me. The sillage was a little better than I expected, however.

In terms of versatility, I find Hundred Silent Ways Extrait de Parfum rather fitting for many occasions, all from leisure wear to the Met Gala. The only roadblock I could see stopping you from wearing this as a daily or at work is the spicy price tag.

Well, for me the only roadblock I obviously encounter is the clear feminine scent. And for me to wear this, I can't give it more than a 7/10 in terms of scent. It clearly doesn't fit. But on a woman, things would change. I would easily see myself giving this an 8.5/10 or even a 9/10 if I smelt it on a woman, probably just the same way I would give Tuberóza Extrait de Parfum an 8/10 on a woman, but a 6.5/10 on me - that one just seems to lean a little bit too feminine to be categorized as unisex. But that's just me.

So honestly, is this worth the price? It's still no pocket money, and I'm sure there are plenty of designers out there which offer the same recipe for less money. So while Hundred Silent Ways Extrait de Parfum definitely smells pleasant, you have to really love it to justify a bottle.

Overall Rating: 6.8/10

The creators of Vain & Naïve must've really been inspired when they were naming the fragrance, because it's a spot-on description of what you can expect from it. If the same amount of inspiration was used in creating the scent itself, I believe we would've gotten a different story.

Now, frankly, fruity-floral sweet fragrances sit in a category that has never appealed to my tastes. So I guess I might be biased because of that. But I still can appreciate a good, well-crafted fragrance, even if it doesn't exactly suit me. And although Vain & Naïve is far above Lattafa-level fruity fumes that can pass as "Terrible & Disastrous", it is still nowhere near to the level of perfumery I'd expect given its price tag.

The opening brings a very short-lived burst of citruses, soon overpowered by an unexciting blend of florals and fruits. The jasmine, in particular, sticks out the most with its intensely floral-sweet aroma and slight muskiness. The rose is harder to pinpoint on its own, but it surely aids to the overall floral fruitiness of the composition, maybe even adding sort of a 'tea' vibe underneath. The raspberry is not overly strong with its fresh, sweet, tart, and vibrant fruitiness, while the plum is yet again, harder to spot, due to it having a combination of soft, fruity, sweet, and floral characters which just makes it nearly impossible to stick out in a composition with other notes that bring similar accords.

Things don't get any more interesting at the base. Actually, things get even more boring. A clean, slightly powdery musk arises, with a faint ambery warmth and sweetness, which dominate the other base notes, whilst they themselves being dominated by the floral fruitiness of the heart notes. The benzoin and tonka bean notes would supposedly sweeten things more with a vanillic-like scent, but I don't get any. At best, I get a balsamic undertone from the benzoin. As for the patchouli, it brings no earthiness or woodiness typical to it, but rather an understated, yet deep musky sweetness. And regarding the sandalwood/cedarwood, you sort of can tell that there is something going on behind curtains, like a mild spicy sweetness tied to sandalwood, but woodiness on itself stands rather hidden in the overall blend. Once the fragrance has properly developed and all the notes are through, I'm left with a fruity, feminine-leaning, floral soap-like scent, which translates to lack of originality. If I were to put the last two paragraphs in a single word, then that would be: unimpressive.

Performance disappointed me further, with about 3-4 hours of longevity, becoming a skin scent somewhere around the one hour mark. The projection wasn't something to bloat about either, although for that first half an hour to maybe an hour, the fragrance did have pretty decent sillage. But as for projection on its own, 1 foot and a half at best. So I'd say it's safe to add a few extra sprays. However, keep in mind that my skin chemistry lacks... chemistry with many fragrances, and looking at other's votes around here, it seems I sit in the minority getting such poor performance from it.

One good thing that comes out of all of this is the versatility of Vain & Naïve. It's not about finding the right occasions for it, it's about finding occasions where it wouldn't fit. It can work as a daily, for work, for school, dressed-up events, dates... The list goes on. But as I mentioned already, this leans feminine, so it might not be the best choice for a man, even though I still think it can pass as unisex just fine.

"Soft & Generic", "Boring & Bland, "Unexciting & Unimpressive"... pick your choice. Any of these would fit as a substitute for Vain & Naïve. From the couple of Nishanes I've tried so far, this one is the least inspiring one yet. It doesn't smell bad per se; it just doesn't do anything that makes it stand out. And when talking about niche perfumery, "Different & Unique" are the keywords I'm looking for, ESPECIALLY if I'm paying $200. So even if you were to love this scent for whichever of its not-so-bright attributes, I still would hardly see myself recommending it, simply because you can find many other similar scents for less money, or even better overall fumes for less money. So truly, this does seem like a fragrance made in vain.

Overall Rating: 5.2/10

So as you have probably read in the "Interesting Facts" box, Karagöz is actually a character from traditional Turkish shadow puppetry, alongside also tagging his sharp-witted counterpart Hacivat. Together, they seem to form one of the most iconic Middle Eastern and Balkan theater traditions.

In short, Karagöz is a simple, uneducated, working-class man, often portrayed as impulsive, emotional, and literal-minded - but also full of earthy wisdom and street smarts. This contrasts Hacivat's character, who is educated, articulate, and pretentious. Their banter drives the humor and social commentary of the plays, which were popular from the 16th century onward, particularly during Ramadan evenings. The legend says that Karagöz and Hacivat were real people working on the construction of a mosque in Bursa during the 14th century. Their constant joking distracted the workers, causing delays. The sultan (said to be Orhan Gazi) allegedly had them executed, but later regretted it. A storyteller then recreated their personalities through puppetry to entertain and remember them.

Now, this doesn't necessarily relate in any way to the scents of both Karagoz and Hacivat (at least in my opinion). But I will say that Hacivat feels superior in every way. With Karagoz, I get an immediate green, fresh, medicinal odor from the herbs, accompanied by a juicy, bright pineapple and dark fruity grape which, to be honest, do not impress me in any way. Arguably, I find the green freshness from the herbs more interesting and pleasing than the fruity aspects of the scent.

The patchouli here isn't overly-strong, adding some muskiness and slight herbaceous sweetness, but not much earthiness. If anything, the neroli dominates as the fragrance dries down, with an intense blend of citrus and florals. The jasmine brings a smooth, but rather subdued white floral sweetness, with more emphasis on the muskiness. Which has me wondering, is it really muskiness that I'm getting or is it more of a synthetic scent? Either way, not impressed.

Once at the base, the vetiver brings some needed depth with a little bit of woody-earthiness. However, it could've been a little stronger, in my opinion. The amber envelops this with hints of sweetness and spiciness, as well as a faint resinous edge. As for the oud, there's not much to speak of. It's not the barnyardy, slightly fecal-smelling type of oud. If anything, if there's any oud to be sensed here, it's more of an woody with an earthy edge oud hidden somewhere well in the blend.

The longevity had me satisfied, even a little impressed I might add. I got a solid 8-9 hours, with okay projection for the first hour or so; about a foot and a half. Afterwards, it would settle down significantly closer, yet still mildly projecting, until around the four hour mark. By that point in time, all there was to be sensed is a mild fruity-sweetness and slight woodiness.

You shouldn't find Karagoz as a difficult scent to wear. It fits most occasions, and it certainly won't offend anyone. But it won't exactly make you stand out either, for there's nothing really special here apart from the opening, which is obviously short-lived.

"Simple" and "uneducated" seem to be the only attributes that both the character and perfume share, apart from the name. It's just a simple fruity fragrance, slightly green, musky, and even synthetic I would add. The vetiver and amber (and oud, I guess) at the base could've used an increase in intensity, although that's just my opinion, and overall the scent could very well be in designer territory. Hence, I also don't think it's worth the money, unless you're truly in love with it for whatever reason. But me, I think I'll stick with Hacivat.

Overall Rating: 6.6/10

Do not let the listed notes scare you off, for Afrika-Olifant is anything but a blood-thirsty animal. It's a tamed, gentle, docile beast, misjudged by many from the distance. Even I was reluctant of approaching this creature, believing it would bite me harshly. But I was terribly wrong, and now I cannot stop coming back to it to pet it.

Upon first spray, I get an addictive warm, ambery sweetness from the labdanum, accompanied by an ever-so beautiful blend of spicy and balsamic accords, with a bitter undertone, enveloped in light smokiness - all attributes of the unmatchable myrrh. The frankincense adds more to the warm, balsamic accords, while also unleashing a dominant resinous scent, which is just magnificent in combination with the rest of the ingredients. The ambergris further aids the ambery-warm section of the composition, while also bringing a musky accord somewhere in the background. Simply put, a delightful resinous-forward opening.

You'd be inclined to believe that the dry down is where the beast starts growling and showing aggression. Notes like castoreum, civet, and oud are hardly beginner-friendly. But the intensity of these notes in Afrika-Olifant make it probably the best starting point for anyone discovering animalic fragrances. There's just a subtle animalic base, overpowered by the resinous, ambery, sweet opening. There's no sign of a fecal odor, which can sometimes accompany animalic notes and/or oud; all I get is warm, musky, and sweet animalic scent. Hardly any leather either (to my nose, at least), which is anyways rather difficult to point out on its own in a warm and sensual blend like this.

Once the resinous sweetness from the opening begins to settle down, the base notes - civetone, muscenone, muscone, thibetone - offer a calming and soft finale. All of these brought together just make for a musky, warm finisher with an animalic tonality. To me, the way everything comes in play just evoke two words in my mind: elegant sensuality. Or, to keep the gentle beast metaphor alive: tamed animal.

There are unfortunate downsides to owning such a creature, however. But these don't apply to most out there. The sample I obtained of Afrika-Olifant could be part of a bad batch, which would explain the rather disappointing performance I get on my skin compared to many others out there rating it highly in longevity and projection. So keep that in mind; I might be an unfortunate exception, either because of a bad batch or because of my skin chemistry. Nonetheless, I get about 6-7 hours of longevity at the very best, which is fine, but I do wish it extended to at least a solid 10 hours. For projection, it's decent for the first half an hour to an hour, sitting somewhere around 1 foot and a half to 2 feet of sillage. But after that, it rapidly declines, becoming a skin scent by the 3 hour mark. Quite disappointing, for I was very hopeful that I would get the expected performance here. Seems that "a gentle beast" fits as an even better description than I imagined.

Yet again, if you were to judge Afrika-Olifant just by its note pyramid without actually trying it, you'd struggle to find a social occasion where you could confidently wear it. But well, things are turning out quite the other way around. I would wear Afrika-Olifant nearly anywhere, aside from leisurely or as a daily (money would be the problem, primarily). Sure enough, I'm speaking for myself here, for if you get better performance out of this one, its versatility could take a hit. Still, it won't make you smell like an animal, even with good projection, for the terms "gentle" and "tamed" many reviewers use refer to the understated animalic accord of the fragrance, and not necessarily to its soft projection. In my case, it applies to both.

Afrika-Olifant rapidly made its way onto my wish list, and if it weren't for its poor overall performance on my skin, a full bottle would've been a priority. The dominant resinous and sweet aspects of it, with that tamed animalic base that added some depth overall, made me fall in love. It's smooth, it's sensual, it's delightful, contrasting an expected pungent, rough, barnyard odor if we were to judge just by its notes.

So in conclusion, never judge an animal by its fierce, menacing aspect. It can turn out to be the exact opposite.

Overall Rating: 6.9/10