DrB1414

A caveat. My review is based on an older, frosted bottle, hence, it might not smell like the ones Santa Maria Novella is selling today.

This perfume is a tour-de-force on smoky birchwood and "leather" accord built around that and other materials (perhaps some animalics), with prominent flint-like/metallic and ashy nuances. I detect a quick burst of citrus and herbs in the opening for a couple of minutes, after which it goes dark and medieval with no return or glimmers of light. To my nose, no florals or resins to pamper the composition. Nada. It is heavy, smoky, and woody, with that ashy, cold metal feel and brown leather accord holding through the dry-down. I also don't get the civet, although it is listed, yet I'm sure they use some musks to create the leather sensation. This is a butch leather perfume that smells very ancient and medieval. I think of a massive fireplace with logs of birchwood fueling the fire that helps dry some leather garments resting on the cold stone pavement of the hall nearby. Some armory sits close since I can't shake the metallic and flint-like smell out of my mind. The perfume smells like it was put together at the beginning of the apothecary that Santa Maria Novella was centuries ago. I'm also impressed with the quality of the materials in this perfume. I can tell they are using a few, but very high-quality raw materials. I don't think I have smelled a better note of birchwood in a perfume before. I can almost see and feel the wood and its texture with my nose.

In a nutshell, this is a beautiful smoky-leather perfume, grandiose in its butch and rough representation, although not exactly what I have in mind when I think of a proper "Peau D'Espagne" accord. But if you want a trip back in time, centuries ago, this one is very much worth the journey.

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Gold Man from Amouage. This is my second favorite perfume from the house, only behind Interlude Woman. And while the latter is a conundrum of a scent that hints at the aesthetic of houses like Serge Lutens and Slumberhouse, Gold Man draws inspiration from vintage French perfumery (think Arpege), therefore not as unique, but adds in bold Middle Eastern elements such as Frankincense, heavy musks (mostly civet), ambergris, and woods. It feels and wears like a Roja perfume. It has that degree of sophistication and refinement that I have only encountered in fragrances such as Diaghilev and "M."

Gold displays a prominent lily of the valley accord that is the center of the floral bouquet, supported by jasmine, rose, and ylan-ylang. The aldehydes are not very noticeable with the older bottles, apart from the opening, and I find these to smell richer, more natural, and heavier on the floral materials. The more recent bottles smell rather synthetic and very aldehydic/soapy and powdery, making it difficult to identify any particular floral accords. I assume the Lilial ban further destroyed this creation after the oakmoss ban did its part, and of course, the market demands over the more recent years. Even so, I do like the current version of Gold; it is different but beautiful in its own right.

Although inspired by the French perfumery aesthetic, it feels and wears like an Oriental. The frankincense accord is prevalent and, for whatever reason, feels cold to me, imbuing a slight auster sensation. There are woods and oakmoss to ground the florals, and yes, there is a rather strong note of civet, yet nothing too crazy. It might scare off the average parfumista, but it's nothing like what you'd find in several vintage perfumes like Bandit, Femme, or modern spins like MAAI, or even Diaghilev. It's cleverly placed to add warmth and allure, next to the ambergris.

A bold floral perfume that can be easily worn by men and women alike, although one has to love and appreciate florals and big, baroque vintage perfumes to warm up to this.

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Here we have Tom Ford in his darkest suit. This perfume is evil, gloomy, dry, and dirty. They got the name right but omitted mentioning the period. This is not your 20th-century London. Oh no, this is London in Dickens' time or around the Industrial Revolution. The dark, foggy, rainy, and smelly London, low standards for hygiene, and treacherous pebblestone alleys. This is what Tom Ford's London evokes to me.

A small and dank London apartment, old books, and a leather jacket imbued with the smell of tobacco, dry woods, incense, spices, and musks. There is something almost poetic about it in its vividness. I can only applaud him for having the guts to put out something like this. It's an anti-Tom Ford perfume. If you are a fan of the house's more popular offerings, I can see how you might find this repulsive. If I were to smell it blindly, I would have mistaken it for a dark Amouage, a Prin, Areej, Slumberhouse, Fusciuni, or other indie-artisanal spins on the Spicy-Oriental genre. It mostly reminds me of Sixes & Sevens, Al Oudh, and Varanasi, but with that Tom Ford sleek and posh touch that reeks of sophistication. The four major accords to my nose are cumin, incense, dry woods, and musks. Secondary ones would be jasmine, leather, cardamom, saffron, and coffee, in that order. The first four are the dominant notes in this fragrance, and that's what you'll get for the most part. The secondary facets are there, but mainly help to round the edges and blend everything in. Hence, in the opening, the cardamom and the coffee help to pamper the huge cumin blast that might be difficult to take otherwise. The saffron introduces the leather accord further sustained by the castoreum and the birch, while the jasmine gives off a beautiful creaminess and slight indolic and exotic effect. I pick up the jasmine, especially in the heat, subtle yet there. There's almost no sweetness to the composition, and the overall effect is dry, spicy, and smoky, hinting at unwashed, sweaty human skin. Yes, most likely, it sounds off-putting to the average perfumista and Tom Ford consumers, and that is fine. There was a time when Tom believed his Private Blend line should target the most adventurous of consumers, and London is a bold statement to that, with capital letters - dark masterwork from the brand. For me, it ranks as the number one spot next to Oud Wood Intense and Tobacco Oud Intense, depending on my mood.

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The most abstract, misunderstood, and perhaps demanding perfume from the house. It feels like a blank canvas on which the individual can draw his/her interpretation of the scent. For the most part, opinions are divisive on whether "In Your Arms" evokes a warm or rather a cold embrace. I stand with the latter. If this perfume intends to evoke the feeling of being hugged, it is a sad hug. I can draw a parallel to another aloof woody-floral perfume composed by Roucel, as poetic as Dans Tes Bras, and I'm speaking, of course, about Iris Silver Mist. They share quite a few elements: the cold air, the cloves, and the woody-incense-infused base.

The first time I smelled it, I pictured this: taking a stroll through a pine forest in early Autumn during a foggy and chilly early morning, wearing a cashmere sweater that has been recently washed and ironed, still smelling of violet and heliotrope fabric softener. That's precisely what Dans Tes Bras evoked in me - a somehow sad/melancholic walk through a forest. The only warmth came from the sweater dressing you. I also get the sandalwood and the incense in the dry-down, the latter only amplifying the austerity. That being said, I absolutely love this perfume and see it as a true work of art. It is such a conceptual smell that will smell different to each person. If I force myself, I can see other angles of it, but the overall feeling of aloofness never goes away.

The opening is the weirdest part as it greets you with a prominent pine accord, a mineral and flint-like smell, and something that I'd address as salty mushrooms in the sense that it feels somehow "meaty." Later, I get the violet and the heliotrope, but the way these floral accords feel is like smelling them through a glass. Or imagine the flowers made of crystals, shuttering once you clasp them in your hands. Yes, I get this ever-present flint-like, mineral, and crystalline quality with the fragrance that comes from the cashmeran. The latter is the major player in the composition, while everything else is either pasted on top or is a direct facet. I believe that the pine accord is also imparted by this molecule, together with the flint-like smell, the mineral quality, and the saltiness. The clove is used to accentuate the cold sensation, and the incense in the base perpetuates the feeling of detachment. The white musk and the sandalwood help to push everything up and add some fluff and creaminess, but overall, the perfume doesn't stray into the warm territory for me.

I find this piece a genuine work of an expert from the man who gave us so many worth remembering compositions over the decades. And then Lauder forced Uncut Gem upon him, poor Maurice. I want to remember him for works like Musc Ravageur, Iris Silver Mist, and this "Cold Embrace" in Dans Tes Bras.

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Bois De Violette from Serge Lutens. Another poetic and complex creation from the house, one that keeps me guessing whenever I wear it. To be more specific, I don't smell much of the violet flower here nor the violet leaf, at least not in a "tangible" way. The perfume is all about the spices, mostly cumin and the woods, with an ever-present purple hue that leaves room for interpretation. I wonder why Monsieur Lutens decided to add no color to this perfume. He loves suggesting what his perfumes are about to unfold by painting them accordingly. I would have had Bois De Violette, a light purple color. Yet he decided Sarrasins should be a deep purple. That, I never understood.

For me, Bois De Violette stays true to the Feminite Du Bois structure (the perfume that sprang the entire "Bois" series), taking away the difficult facets and perfecting them. I could never bring myself to like Feminite. As much acclaimed and loved as it is, I never fancied it - always felt too sharp on the spices and the cedar, and too fruity. More suited for women, I feel. Bois De Violette tones down the spices but keeps the cumin, maybe even amplifying it a touch, smooths out the woods in the base by adding a touch of oakmoss and fluffy musks, and tempers the fruity aspects to a mere suggestion. It smells how I wanted Feminite to smell - more melancholic, poetic, rounder and well-behaved, unisex. The opening is spicy but focuses mainly on the cumin note, not overly done but present. Immediately, the purple color starts to permeate the scent profile. At this point, I am left guessing the source of it. Is it plum, or violet, perhaps both? A fresh and crisp breeze blows through it like the chilly air caressing the grass in the forest. And then the cedar in the base feels supported by some additional creamy woods, musks, and bitter-green moss. A spicy and woody take on violet, devoid of trivial sweetness and full of surprises. Whatever creates the omnipresent purple sensation is going to be a perpetual source of intrigue for me. And that is why I feel this perfume is among the most poetic and intelligent from this house. It lets the wearer add his/her hero to the plot while laying down the grounds for the story.

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