Faber

I first noticed Terre d\'hermes with two friends, whom I wouldn't describe as particularly subtle in their own appearance. So I initially thought, \"if they have Terre d\'hermes, it can't be good\". It wasn't that simple, though, because the scent smelled good; damn good, even. Worse still: I would have liked to smell like that... but if those two...

OK, eventually you just have to jump over your shadow. You test and test and test. and the scent remains good. But then: at first, like many others, I thought this was the broadly laid-out and vetiver-accentuated scent of bitter orange, but that soon faded into the background. Instead, I can now understand the flint. Yes, it's crazy, but what many consider a chimera or a marketing gimmick actually exists. You can smell stone in Terre d\'hermes, and it feels like the soul of the earth.

And therein lies my problem: the scent is still interesting, well-composed, and unique due to this earthy-stony note, but with this realization, my late fondness for this fragrance has unfortunately diminished irretrievably.

Well.

Hmmm... yes, the scent is quite good. "Quite good" - similar to saying "I care about you" instead of confessing your love.
I've had it for a while, but I haven't brought it out as often lately. I once thought it had a somewhat herbal-woody character. I would revise that today; it is rather fresh at the beginning and then transitions to a somewhat flat spice. For a fragrance from a designer who clearly aims not to celebrate great niche perfumery art, but to appeal to the mass market, it is still quite successful.
It's worth applying again from time to time...

What an essence!
The scent seems to polarize to some extent, which I personally find good, as it shows that it is not arbitrary or insignificant. It is special and unique - as one of my predecessors already said: "you have to go far to get something like this" - and certainly not everyone's cup of tea. But more on that later.

When I first smelled it, my nose was still infected and impressed by the little brother "For Men," which seems to be similarly composed at first glance, but does not have the volume and complexity of "Extreme." Therefore, "For Men" is by no means worse, but just a different spectrum: more suitable for everyday wear, as it leans more towards "well-groomed, fresh, and clean," while "Extreme" is more of the "confident individualist."

Back then, I was still hesitant about the big brother - or is it the father - "Extreme," perhaps because my nose - or my mood?! - was not yet mature.
But now... What fascinates me the most is this incredibly balanced combination of warmth, volume, and spice. I don't know where it comes from, but I associate "Extreme" with an English gentlemen's room. Not that "Extreme" is a typically English scent - far from it. No, it is something deep-leathery, amber-golden, a fireplace in the corner of the room, dark woods on the wall, a porcelain vase with fresh flowers, all in warm light. It has nothing aristocratic or arrogant about it, rather something bohemian - as if in this English gentlemen's room - or better: salon - a reading by Oscar Wilde (yes, here the floral aspect in the scent) is taking place in person. Well-groomed, deeply spicy, lightly floral-sweet bouquet.

The accords - wood and leather, flowers and fruits - have a volume, depth, and longevity that clearly indicate that this is a true men's fragrance: wearing this scent with a polo shirt or with a shirt-out-of-the-pants? - Unthinkable. As some have already described, it is an autumnal, possibly late-spring scent for the evening or for festive occasions. Not suitable for barbecue parties or the office - never, because the wearer must match "Extreme" with his self-confidence, his determination for individuality, the situational mood, and probably also his clothing.

Possibly a rare interplay, but a very intense one.