Elijahrb67

I typically rate and write reviews on fragrances from my own perspective, focusing on how the fragrance worked for me as opposed to a general sentiment. The issue with this though, is that at times I rate fragrances that smell objectively good quite low because it does not work for me. For some reason I feel inclined to do the opposite with Bleu de Chanel Parfum, because even though I don't personally love this fragrance, it really is a good scent and one that deserves it's popularity. The parfum is the best of the range. It's a combination between very fresh and vibrant woods and a bit of a creamy sandalwood note. This fragrance doesn't scream sandalwood like most sandalwood based fragrances do though, which is what I love. I did also get a bit of a minty note somewhere in there as well that added a bit of necessary sweetness. It's understated but has enough vibrance to set itself apart from other fragrances. This fragrance is highly wearable, albeit not quite as unique as I would have expected. It will most certainly please the masses, and that's a good thing these days.

My personal tastes don't exactly line up with this kind of fragrance. To me, shower gel-like fragrances like this do not serve much of a purpose as they can be a bit bland, but they are adored by the masses, and that's great. I think that Bleu de Chanel Parfum is one of the best fragrances in this category, and I found it bordering on something I would wear a bit more often. After giving this a fair shake, I now understand why so many people laud this fragrance, despite it not necessarily being my kind of fragrance!

My family is quite a large one. Both my mother's parents and my father's parents got divorced and remarried prior to my being born, so growing up I had a lot of grandparents to show me love. To make it even better, I was the only grandchild until I was 12, so for years I was able to be spoiled beyond reason. One thing I found interesting across my very large family, is that almost all of my grandparents had a passion for fragrance, with many of them still having large collections. My father's father was a simple man, loving scents like One Man Show and a random Tommy Bahama I can't seem to remember, his wife frequenting Dior J'adore. My father's mother was an avid wearer of YSL Opium, and her husband a lover of Dior Dune. My mother's father, who's collection is larger than my own, swears by Aramis and Eternity, and his wife an enjoyer of none other than Chanel Cristalle.

However, my mother's mother was a different breed than the rest. She was, no matter how cool the rest of them were, the cool grandma. On special occasions she might have worn Aromatics Elixir or Rive Gauche, but her daily scent was a blue glass spray bottle of pure patchouli oil that she purchased from a small shop called 'Feather Falls' whenever she would visit her best friend in California. I grew up craving this scent more than any other. A hug from her was, and thankfully still is, the most magical thing on the face of the planet. Of course, she has not worn patchouli like that for years now, but every time I smell a whiff of pure, unadulterated patchouli, I think of her. Well, thanks to Santa Maria Novella, and this EDC in particular, I have been transported back to my childhood through this marvelously simple piece of perfumery.

This is the closest thing I have found to that specific patchouli spray that my grandma would wear, and it's magical to say the least. There is not much to say about the depth and composition here, as it is really truly just patchouli, but it is the perfect patchouli. Sweet, spicy, earthy, a tad bit chocolatey, and immensely warm. It's a lesson in how sometimes less is more, and that even the simplest of fragrances can make our hearts sing. This will definitely remain a staple in my collection as long as it is manufactured, as it truly transports me back to a time I wished I was still living in, no matter how much I might have wanted to 'grow up' at the time.

Antaeus was, without a doubt, one of the fragrances I wanted to smell the most on my recent trip to New York. Something in me knew I would love it and I was thankfully correct, as it became an instant purchase. Though this might seem shocking, it’s rumored to have been very popular with the gay men of big cities in its day, and despite the toes I might step on by saying this, it makes perfect sense. It's daring, bold and intense, and flirts with femininity more than I would've expected. This is, of course, not a bad thing, but where fragrances like Aramis represents masculinity in a traditional, suburban, family-loving man sort of way, Antaeus is the polar opposite. It’s urban, sleek and intimidating in the best way. He listens to Donald Fagen’s “The Nightfly” on repeat, and dresses in highly fashionable all black ensembles no matter the occasion. He is a high ranking accountant by day, and spends his nights in a lower-Manhattan nightclub while having too many a whiskey old fashioned for his own good. Nevertheless, he wakes up bright and early the next day, completely unphased, and repeats the cycle over and over again. And little do his familiars know, he is the greatest friend of Dorothy there ever was. Does it make him any less masculine than Aramis, Kouros or the others? Not a chance. He just leads a different lifestyle, and that’s why we love Antaeus.

Analogies aside, the scent is a complete masterpiece. Opening up is a vibrantly spicy combination of myrrh and clary sage that starts off quite sweet. The opening almost reminds me of something like Opium EDT with the sweet spicy notes. It's really interesting, as it leans ever so slightly into feminine territory here, but snaps back into it's masculine form as it dries. After that we get the iconic leathery chypre feeling that Antaeus is known for. It's dense and herbal, while maintaining the smooth, sharp scent of a fine leather. There's also a pretty heavy dose of patchouli and labdanum in the base which really just make this fragrance even more interesting. This is certainly one that just builds and builds throughout the wear, becoming more enticing the longer it's worn. Additionally, while it is certainly animalic in a sense, I don’t find this to land in the territory of offense animalics. It's completely wearable and not off putting in the slightest, and I think the animalic qualities really become the cherry on top of an already perfect composition. It’s a very dark fragrance, almost as dark as the bottle it’s housed in, but in a very enticing and almost sexy fashion. It feels like a bit of a sin to wear Antaeus, but that’s sort of the beauty of it.

I have to admit, I have never once caught a whiff of Antaeus until I sampled my bottle and purchased it. I find this to be a travesty, though of course it does make it fun to (usually) be the only one in the room wearing Antaeus. Yes, it’s very much a product of its time, but in my opinion it’s aged far better than many of its counterparts. From what I hear, it appears to be regarded as 'very 1980s' in a cool, retro way as opposed to it being outdated. It’s nothing like any other Chanel ever produced, but it’s easily the best of them all as well. Even my other Chanel favorites, No.5 and Platinum Egoiste, don’t hold a candle to the sleek and powerful Antaeus. For those who read my reviews, you’ll know my very favorite fragrance ever made is Guerlain’s Mitsouko, but I believe Mitsouko has finally met its match with Antaeus. Let us hope it’s not discontinued anytime soon. Some will hope to live their life as an Aramis man, a Kouros man, an Eternity man, or maybe even a Habit Rouge man, but I will hope to be an Antaeus man.

I'm beginning to learn that most Creed fragrances are not living up to my expectations and personal tastes. Many of them are very similar to other fragrances that can be had for much cheaper, or similar to other fragrances in their lineup, which is the case with Millesime Imperial. This fragrance is very similar to Silver Mountain Water, despite launching a year before it. Personally though, where Silver Mountain Water shines with it's vague and somewhat plain fragrance profile that manages to still be interesting, Millesime Imperial is just weird. In simple terms, this smells like a fruiter SMW, with a bit of an aquatic finish that I don't love. The opening is really nice, comprised of fairly tame fruity notes and a bit of a powdery accord as well, but nothing overpowering or intense. Like I mentioned, the dry down is just a bit odd. There is an interesting woody-aquatic accord here, but there's also, like with many other Creed fragrances, the faintest smell of hard plastic. I'm still trying to figure out what this plastic smell is in their fragrances, as it's very interesting and every so slightly off-putting. Whatever it is, it's an unfortunate end to an otherwise decent fragrance, though I would still rank SMW miles ahead of this.

Perhaps it's that Creed just doesn't mesh well with my skin, or that my nose is not agreeing with their formulations, but I'm adding this to the list of their fragrances that despite smelling okay at first, ultimately end up pretty boring. Despite their many similarities, I think for the money, Silver Mountain Water is going to be the far better buy in just about every aspect (especially in the performance category.) I have a feeling this fragrance has unfortunately fallen victim to Creed's relatively disappointing reformulations.

Although vetiver is a kind of grass, that is not the grass I am smelling in this Creed fragrance. This fragrance smells like the kind of grass you have in your front lawn, the kind that's green and vibrant, and has a very unique aroma, but not an overly pungent or exciting one. To me, there was not a drop of vetiver in this fragrance, at least not the vetiver I'm used to. I'm not entirely shocked by this, as Creeds other 'original' fragrance, Original Santal, doesn't smell like sandalwood, but rather like vague spices. Perhaps these fragrances are meant to be more of an idea or interpretation of their titular ingredients, as opposed to a true-to-name composition. Whatever the case may be, I can't say that this fragrance smells bad, it's just not as vetiver-y as I would have hoped. The opening gives way to bright and fresh citruses, fairly standard stuff, nothing too outstanding, and the grass note I mentioned at the beginning comes into play shortly after, and becomes the main ingredient in the dry down. If there is truly a vetiver note here, at least how I know vetiver to smell, it's buried quite deep under everything else, and not presenting itself strong enough to have vetiver in the name.

Vetiver as a note though, does throw me for a loop. Sometimes I wonder if I even know what it actually smells like, because so many vetiver fragrances tend to smell wildly different from one another that it's not even funny. Perhaps there is vetiver here and I'm missing it, but from my experience with fragrances like Vetiver Eau de Toilette Terre d'Hermès Eau Intense Vétiver Vetyverio Eau de Parfum or Sultan Vetiver, there just isn't much of any vetiver here, just plain old green grass. It'll be appealing to some, but unfortunately I don't fall into that crowd.