DrDurst

What can you expect from someone who claims their last encounter with perfume was when they were 18 years old in a large disco named after a highway? Right, absolutely nothing, and that's why it was little surprising for this very someone (me) to be so enchanted after five minutes in Douglas by Dior Sauvage EdT that it was promptly purchased. Should I have let myself be enchanted for ten minutes instead and neutralized the first impression with a raisin bun from Kamps across the street? Probably, and I would have likely noticed that something was off.
The initial euphoria over the supposed entry into the mysterious mechanisms of perfume faded as quickly as the deceptive bergamot, which is merely meant to create an illusion of freshness for the clueless. Behind it lurks unmistakably and for everyone, voluntarily or involuntarily, the enemy of every decent, cheap, and fair nose: Ambroxan. For me, initially also a foreign concept, until I could unmask it after some Google searching as the synthetic twin of the legendary sperm whale vomit. Oily and heavy in the nose, simultaneously bitter, chemical, and sweet, like diesel with sugar sprinkles. This molecule loves fat and clings persistently to every receptor, causing thousands of brain cells to die off regularly. One thing is clear: the Ambroxan note dominates everything here, just as it dominates every city bus in the height of summer. Behind it, a slight spiciness can be sensed, but the perfume maintains the association of "freshly showered wild boar on poorly oiled two-stroke" all day long.
But it remains the initial and Gretchen question of why countless people (myself included) allow themselves to be enchanted by Sauvage EdT daily, even though it should, according to some in the community, be prosecuted as a crime against humanity before the International Criminal Court in The Hague. A discussion on this is probably as meaningful as the debate over whether Aventus batch "Beta-Epsilon-0815-Hubba-Bubba" is more durable than Aventus batch "Tomato-Cucumber-Lettuce with Herb Vinegar." Scents are and remain subjective. If one wants to give Sauvage some credit, it is that it stands out against Eros and Bleu and Armani and whatever else. You try things out and inevitably get stuck with Sauvage.
Whether standing out at all costs is a sensible approach, however, is another very debatable topic.

I am certainly no connoisseur. Most of the time, I wander aimlessly through the perfume department of KaDeWe and let myself be sprayed until I feel nauseous.
However, if my rubbery nose and my pathetic expertise (after all, I was at Douglas and sniffed all facets of a freshly cleaned toilet bowl in Torino21) can hold onto one thing with overwhelming probability, it is the indisputable greatness of Crazy Basil.
Sure, the name is completely uninspired, and one might expect a neon green schnapps in a rundown corner pub that makes your face melt off, but that would be overly pedantic nitpicking.
The perfume starts off herbaceous and fresh with basil, citrus, moss, and pine needles. If I were to describe it, it smells like a cedar cone with mandarin peel. On the skin, the woods come out over time, and the scent suddenly becomes surprisingly warm, yet retains its ethereal notes, and one would now have completed the transformation to a sauna bench with birch infusion. It remains like this until the end.

I have no idea if there is anything comparable on the market. At least, I couldn't get a solid answer on that. The price is, of course, absurdly high and not really justifiable, but at least the bottle is quite pretty. For me, the perfume would be a Newfoundland lumberjack in a red checkered shirt, sitting in his underwear at -14 degrees Celsius...
Let's leave aside these questionable "with the 230 Euro perfume, you're an XYZ and I definitely don't get any commission for this nonsense" descriptions. Fantastic for everyday use if you like understated, natural scents and coniferous forests.