Grizzlyscent

Anyone who knows me knows that I survive on caffeine. Energy drinks, caffeine pills, I'll take anything and everything to keep myself running.

However, my favorite way to get my buzz has always been coffee. From pour overs, to moka pots, from espresso to the "all frills included" milk based drinks, I really can't get enough. And it's not just the taste either. I can't get enough of the smell of coffee.

I find the wafting aroma of a freshly pulled shot equal parts intoxicating and comforting! It takes me back to my childhood where getting coffee was a treat to be savored, and where the scent of freshly brewed coffee was almost always inextricably linked to that of books (but I digress).

It makes sense, then, that I've been on the hunt for a perfume that is able to elicit the emotions I feel when I enjoy a "cup of joe." My craving led me far and wide and I tried many different fragrances from many different brands, but nothing quite scratched that itch. Some were too sweet, some had no coffee to speak of, and some came very close, but just fell just short. Very picky, I know, but I wanted nothing less than the one to rule them all.

And after ages of fruitless searchu, I'd nearly given up on my quest. That is, until I got my nose on the marvel that is Akro's Awake. It is, in my humble opinion, the best coffee fragrance available, bar none. (And quite by chance, it mimics my own daily coffee routine, which I found to be quite a lovely happy accident!)

Awake opens with a blast of thick, deep, rich, dark roasted espresso, with the lightest spritz of lemon adding some lift to the brew! The coffee is photorealistic, smelling exactly like a perfectly timed shot of espresso would. The dark caramelized nature of the beans, the froth of the crema, the sweet bitterness of the drink itself, all come alive! This beautiful aroma persists to the very end of the olfactory journey, and make no mistake, it IS a journey.

A little later, a nice dose of sweetness begins creeping in as the lemon fades. It also starts gaining an earthy character from this phase on, which I will assume is the Vetiver, because I get none of it otherwise. The coffee in this phase most closely resembles a Cafe Cubano (which for those who don't know, is a drink made with stove top espresso sweetened with demerara sugar), and is utterly delicious!

Towards the middle of the wearing, the earlier sweetness is in full swing, taking on a vanillic character as well. Here, the earlier, robust coffee aroma has mellowed losing some of it's intensity, and none of it's character. In fact, in this phase, I find that the nuttier, chocolatier facets of the coffee reveal themselves, with the slightest hint of spice creeping through as the cardamom makes it's entrance. Here, I find it most similar to a cortado (which is a drink with equal parts espresso and steamed milk, and quite a nice mid afternoon drink to have on any given day!)

And as we approach the drydown, the cardamom and coffee have mixed perfectly with the vanillic sweetness, and mellowed into what I find to be closest to a spiced latte. Which in my opinion is one of the best ways to close out the day. It is warm, with the aroma of coffee taking a milky character now, dancing with the sweetness of the cardamom in a lovely waltz, as the curtains drop and the scent fades to black.

Awake is a beautifully cozy fragrance, easy to wear and enjoy, yet lacking none of the nuance that makes coffee and perfumery such an interesting indulgence. It is likeable enough for everyone to pick up and spray, and has enough for the fragrance junkie to keep coming back for more. And it's something that I'm happy to have on my shelf.

Bravo Olivier Cresp. What an absolute masterpiece!

“At a party on Paris’ rive gauche, a woman’s fur coat is lifted from her bare shoulders, exposing her neck to the candlelight. Aware of many eyes upon her, she pauses, smiling to herself, before emerging like a conqueror from the shadows.”

Oh Mr. Malle, how I love your tendency to wax lyrical about nonsense! The writer in me loves the imagery you draw, and the consumer in me wishes you wouldn't. The mention of paris, and the risque exposure of the skin of the neck in the candlelight is a striking, if slightly cliche, image. However, it makes little sense in the context of the scent. And unlike with Dans Tes Bras, and with Musc Ravageur, where I found myself in grudging agreement with the branding, in the case of Music For a While (hereafter, MFaW), I find it fairly odd, and unfitting.

That is not to say that MFaW is a bad fragrance, it isn't. Far from it, in fact. It's just that reading the PR drivel, one would imagine a sensual, femme-fatale experience to come from the atomizer. Instead what's found is a playful departure from the usually serious, "buttoned up" fragrances that come from the house of Malle. One thing is certain, though. I have never smelled anything like this, and that is, perhaps, why it took so long for me to pen a review of something I loved from the first spray.

MFaW opens up with the first of many surprises bottled by Carlos Benaim, in a shockingly acerbic burst of pineapple. It is very odd to find pineapple in anything from Malle, considering their penchant for sobriety, but here it stands in all of it's glory, tart, citric, and beautifully unripe; far more the natural fruit than the tinned variety found in most fragrances of today. Despite this, it seems almost sacrilegious that something as...well mainstream, as pineapple found its way into a Malle fragrance. I was nervous, since I expect more "high effort" perfumery than I do frivolity, but I was pleasantly surprised at how nicely Carlos Benaim utilized this note.

Of course, the surprises are far from over, with the pineapple being coupled with a large dose of very austere lavender, that is dry bordering on incense-esque! The stark contrast between the exuberant pineapple and the far more restrained lavender makes for a combination unlike any other I have smelled. And quite frankly it works excellently!

As the fragrance progresses to the mid, the pineapple changes character and becomes deeper, denser and much sweeter, while still retaining a touch of the earlier acidity, while the lavender goes from more floral, to slightly vegetal. It is here we find the third of many surprises, in the addition of what is a burnt sugar/caramel note finding it's way into the mix. The way they meld, however, is absolutely gorgeous! It veers into a territory just shy of gourmand, evoking the image of a dark, almost burnt caramelized pineapple, with a lavender glaze. The fragrance here, takes on the more masculine character that it retains to the very end, while still maintaining its less-than-serious demeanor.

And as we approach the drydown, there is yet another surprise waiting in the wings, where fragrance seems to take on a completely different character in the later hours of the wearing. The delectable, almost gourmand fragrance, is joined by a rich patchouli and warm vanilla, each playing off the other to give it a rough, yet well rounded finale. The patchouli is similar to that used in Monsieur, however far less potent, playing more into the chocolatey and vanillic aspects than the dry and boozy patchouli of Monsieur. This cuts through the brightness of the earlier melange in an elegant way, taking it from borderline gourmand, to what I can only describe as a sweet fougere. An odd but fitting end, to an odd olfactory experience.

MFaW is truly a unique wearing experience, and one that I have enjoyed thoroughly! It is a very confusing scent, veering between exceedingly masculine (bordering on macho) and delicately gourmand, seemingly at random. It has me hooked in a way I rarely find myself, wherein I go back to it time and again, to experience the multitudes found within. And as someone who isn't the biggest fan of fougeres, this is a shock in and of itself.

Would I recommend you blind buy this fragrance? Absolutely not. It is brilliant yes, and it garners compliments yes, but hardly a safe blind buy. Despite it's apparently whimsical nature, it still has the fundamentally complex core that makes Malle fragrances what they are, which can be challenging for the inexperienced nose.

And for those that care:
This is a strong fragrance! The sillage and longevity are both stellar bordering on obscene. 10/10 on that front for me, your mileage may vary though.

The universe exists in a dichotomous fashion; all things have their place, and their opposite. Man and woman, light and dark, happiness and melancholia. It is only to be expected, then, that perfume would also be bound by this universal truth. We have fragrances that are bright and joyous and evoke only the happiest of memories. We also have fragrances that are dark and forlorn, perhaps due to their composition, or perhaps due to the memories we have associated with them. The fragrance I'll be delving into today, occupies the latter niche.

Une Voix Noire (or "The Dark Voice") is a fragrance from the house of Serge Lutens, and one that I've grown very fond of, despite it's heartbreaking characteristics. It was inspired by Billie Holiday, and the gardenia everpresent behind her ear. Billie Holiday was, and still is, a legend in the realm of jazz music, and it is, thus, only fitting that the perfume itself be built around that theme.

Une Voix Noire is a gardenia soliflore, but hardly in the way one would imagine. There is much added to it, from a delectably fruity rum, to a smoky tobacco, which turn it from a young, white gardenia, to one that's been tempered by the passing of the years, and has the richness of full life, on the cusp of death.

It opens on my skin with a beautiful fruity rum, almost as if there are muddled strawberries in the bottom of a drink I've been served, with the faintest whiff of smoky tobacco. However, within moments, the fruit fades, and the smoke intensifies, leaving the impression of an upscale cocktail, and a cuban cigar, luxurious, but perhaps unapproachable.

Moments later, the gardenia appears, almost as if catching a waft left by Ms. Holiday's own. Far from the effervescent brightness of the immature flowers, it's petals are wilted, stained from the smoke of the tobacco, and dipped in the rum of better days, carrying the promise of a journey, and delivering layer upon layer to be unraveled and understood.

It continues in this manner for a while, the rum receding, and the tobacco becoming softer and less smokey, allowing that aged gardenia to shine in all it's glory, the florals only lightly brushed with the faintest whisper of that smoke as an unmistakable vanillic undertone begins to appear. There is a touch of indole here, and perhaps an animalic facet there, but they are subtle and fleeting. And, with the passing of time, they fade, leaving behind a gauzy whisper, that smells faintly of flowers, and tastes of heartbreak.

Une Voix Noire is truly the distilled essence of Billie Holiday. It is undeniably heartbreaking, hiding it's tears behind a veil of warmth and fleeting brightness. She sings the blues, and those blues are here. Each dab a reminder of Lady Day, and what troubled her so. Each waft a fresh pang of sadness.

Une Voix Noire is not for everyone. In fact, I don't recommend many bother trying it at all. This I'd reserve solely for the darkest of days, when there's nothing to be said of joy, and only the faintest whisper of light can be seen. It is when I'm consumed by the most intense deapair, that I reach for Une Voix Noire, sitting upon her plum velvet throne, and allow it to consume me.

Beautiful, but soul shattering all the same.

Fragrances from Serge Lutens are, more often than not, quite divisive. Leather fragrances, too, are also polarizing. So the combination of the two had me prepared for the worst whilst hoping for the best. A disclaimer before I continue; I'm not a fan of leather fragrances. By and large, I've found them to be too animalic, rough-hewn or pungent to be wearable, let alone enjoyable. Cuir Mauresque, however, is an entrancing concoction that I find myself enjoying far more than I thought I would.

Cuir Mauresque is an intriguing blend, and frankly I feel doesn't get the love it deserves. This could be an oddity of skin chemistry, or perhaps just a fear of leather and Lutens in general. Regardless, it's rather unjust that Cuir Mauresque is sidelined.

It opens with a rich burst of orange blossom, clove, nutmeg, mandarin and a warm, toasted cumin, seated on a dark bed of resins. There's also the ghost of something floral and smoky dancing along the edges of the notes. A few moments later, a sweetness enters the mix. Not in a gourmand fashion at all, but instead, a subtle sweetness coming from the orange, tempered by the dry spices. A few minutes later, the floral note becomes more prominent, a dark jasmine, heady but without indoles.

As time passes, the scent of leather becomes far more prominent. And the leather here is absolutely gorgeous. It is supple and incredibly upscale, with a distinct booze to it. Think of an Eames Lounge Chair doused in aged single malt. It screams wealth and luxury, but also sophistication. The jasmine becomes stronger here as well, bringing the rich floral heart to the forefront of the fragrance. Think of jasmines and dried oranges, threaded with strands of rich leather. Absolutely gorgeous.

As time passes, the fragrance evolves in multiple stages, the leather becoming more potent, with the civet lending it a musky, animalic flavor, without being too raw, supported by a cinnamon-spiced honey alongside the jasmines, as the orange and clove from the beginning leaves the stage. In the far drydown, the leather is all but gone, leaving in it's place a spiced honey, unsweetened vanilla and dried fruits. It is coziest in this stage, but no less seductive than it has been throughout it's development.

Cuir Mauresque is a truly mouthwatering creation. It's an incredibly approachable leather, which rides the line between ultra-refined luxury and rough-hewn animalism. It is also perfectly androgynous, and would work very well on either sex. It is also quite easy to carry, and projects an air of glamour and mystery.

While it may not be for everyone, I do believe everyone should sample Cuir Mauresque at least once. And while I wouldn't wear this overly often, it does have its place amongst the "sex in a bottle" fragrances in my collection.

On days like today, where the weather is hardly my best friend, where there’s a chill in the air, but the sun is shining brightly, where I’ve dressed for summer, but am attacked by the frosty nips of a passing winter, where I feel down and out, too tired to move but too anxious to sit still, this little gem is my friend. For those of you not interested in the rambling of an amateur nose, here’s the TLDR: Dark rooms, warm, inviting, boozy cocktails, with a cubano lit a table or two away, the smell of tobacco wafting towards you. A must have for anyone that loves perfumery as an artform and scents that are safe, but nuanced. Definitely a compliment puller from anyone that gets close to you. (But trust your nose, not my words)

To everyone that’s with me till now, a small disclaimer. I am fairly new to the world of fragrances and perfumery, and a lot of my experience before I was bitten by the bug was “that’s nice” and “that’s...fresh?” However, as with most things, the more I began to explore, the more I realized that the rabbit hole is far deeper than I could have begun to imagine, and quite frankly, I have no intention of climbing out any time soon.

Now then, onto my thoughts about this perfume, what all I get from it, and what it evokes in me.

The olfactory fireworks (and yes, they are fireworks) start from the moment this hits your skin, but they aren’t explosions. They go off at medium volume, and bring with them the most delectable aromas. A slight tartness, a vanillic warmth, a sweet rum like scent, and the slightest hint of an abstract coconut, flitting through. A tropical cocktail at an upscale bar, one even those who don’t dabble in the devil’s drink can appreciate. Here, in this opening spray, the fragrance is already a winner. But it doesn't stop there.

As the sweet warmth of the rum and vanilla settle into the heat of my skin, something else begins to emerge. A bitterness to balance it out, almost vegetal, but not quite. I don’t know what this bitterness is, but it certainly plays to the cocktail aspect in my mind (a Rum Old Fashioned perhaps?) This bitterness takes the cloying aspect out of the sweetness, and turns it into an almost burnt caramel; deep, ambery, bittersweet. And from amidst this bittersweet concoction, comes a smoky love affair, that I can only liken to a half burning cigar, sitting in a forgotten corner, blowing it’s aroma to me on the air of those that pass it, with hints of leather. Something like an old reading chair you haven’t seen for a decade or two, but then when you sit in it again, you’re reminded of that comfort you’d forgotten.

Now, as for longevity and sillage, I’ve had a mixed bag. It lasted on my skin once for 16 hours, even surviving a shower, but another time, it was gone in two, a fleeting memory of beauty, so I can’t say much other than your mileage may vary. But one thing is certain, no matter how long it lasts on you, the journey that it takes you on is worth every second, long or short. It’s truly an art piece in a bottle, and has left me excited to try the other offerings this house has to offer.