Jazzbob

Cocktails are good sources of inspiration for the creation of fragrances, because they live just like perfumes from the combination of different flavors that are simply intended to serve the pure pleasure. The Mojito is without question one of the most popular, along with well-known variations such as Gin & Tonic, Caipirinha, Piña Colada or Cuba Libre, and in Guerlain Homme it was combined with classic masculine, woody notes. But even though I can definitely recognize the individual components, I must say that I would have expected a little more freshness.

In the top note lime is definitely present, but rather fleeting on my skin and it lacks the effervescence that it usually has. Instead, the peppermint comes pleasantly herbaceous and does not, as in some perfumes, reminds of chewing gum or toothpaste. The only thing missing for the mojito accord is rum and cane sugar - these two facets can also be found, although the sweetness is fortunately moderate. Due to the alcoholic note and the masculine base, Guerlain Homme also has something familiar, aftershave-like. Rather woody and only minimally earthy vetiver plays a larger role here in the further course and receives a little support from the cedar, which in my opinion, however, is not so prominent.

What bothers me from the beginning is a certain combination of subtly powdery and soapy notes, which for me almost always seems very old-fashioned. The fragrance smells therefore not really bad and younger people could also stand Guerlain Homme - but I see it more on mature men from 40, because it is just more classic than modern. The durability I find here surprisingly good, with a reasonable sillage for an all-rounder.

Many will now wonder what this is at all. It is a genus of cacti in which the sweet, fruity-smelling flowers only open at night, as they are pollinated by bats (in contrast to other Cereen species, which rely on birds during the day). Perfumer Jérôme Di Marino 'used' this note in Lunar Vetiver, anyway, and thus probably created the template for the moon (luna) and vetiver connection. Sounds like a great story.

That's exactly what it is above all: something that requires our imagination. Fragrance notes are, after all, in most cases, what the creator / the creator should trigger with us as a smell perception. In the first place, it doesn't matter whether it's the 'real' natural resource, a substance synthesized in a lab, or something in between. It shows how closely marketing and perfumes are linked, how stories are sold to fragrances. On the other hand, yes, we do indeed have our personal sensations and anecdotes associated with them.

Lunar Vetiver does not make me think of moonlight, but I can understand that Di Marino was inspired by the scent of Cereus, because I was quite surprised at the first test, how fruity-floral the fragrance comes across. However, my perception has changed with subsequent times and I would also say that my sample smells minimally fruitier than my bottle - which could be due to maceration. That bright fruitiness is still present in conjunction with just a little citrusiness, but the other facets dominate for me. At the beginning, I can definitely recognize the two notes of allspice and pepper, which gives the fragrance a certain spiciness. The eponymous vetiver (why not stated as a fragrance note here?) shows both its slightly grassy-green and woody side, and is complemented by a component that I would most likely describe as very dry cedar. This is often problematic for me as I actually almost always perceive it as pungent and I guess I'm hypersensitive to it - in many fragrances it comes across as penetrating and lingering - but in Lunar Vetiver it complements the rest of the notes well and is seemingly low dosed. I can't find the sweetly warm notes of tonka bean and vanilla and tobacco flower here, though, because the scent remains rather linearly green, woody, and dry.

What I appreciate about Lunar Vetiver is the good mix of light and darker notes, which do not make too extreme a contrast, but also do not seem boring. Vetiver has a priori already something mature in itself, but in this case, the direction is more modern and brighter than many other representatives, which tend either in a more earthy direction, or are accompanied by old-fashioned soapy / powdery nuances. Perhaps it is precisely this slightly radiant quality that could be likened to that of moonlight.

For me, Lunar Vetiver is a good all-season all-rounder, which should be dosed sparingly due to its persistence and strength (with me, for example, no more than 2-3 sprays at work). Incidentally, the bottle is not only solid and features a metal cap and sprayer, but fortunately allows you to see the fill level by holding it in front of a light source. If you're now in the mood for a test, let me add that the scent might seem a bit harsh to some. I quite like it when one still has a few rough edges.

The headline says it all: The Tycoon shows himself as an old warhorse who has made himself comfortable in his executive chair and values tradition, but also comes across as somewhat gruff and whose word carries weight. Some of these qualities are still important in leadership positions today, but the line to toxic masculinity and a lack of willingness to compromise is quickly crossed and can bring many problems.

In terms of perfume, of course, it's much less critical to rely on old values. Bertrand Duchaufour has definitely been inspired by the genre of chypre and the style of the 80s, and right from the start the fragrance shows itself to be strikingly masculine and tart and thoroughly opulent. The citrusy top notes immediately combine with the bitter-green facets of galbanum and oakmoss and are further supported by nutmeg and pepper. This still gives The Tycoon a certain spiciness, which is however moderately chosen. I also detect a subliminal earthy-mineral mustiness reminiscent of Terre de Hermes, but this is by no means a fragrance twin (nor is Bohemian Lime, by the way, which is more modern and transparent). As fresh I would not classify The Tycoon - I would have expected with the notes, however - and thus he sounds primarily woody-earthy-mossy and due to its dry bitterness almost smoky effecting.

As I could determine today at work, he is also not so restrained, because although I had sprayed in the morning in wise foresight only once each on the two wrists, the scent is so far well perceptible. However, the amount of oakmoss(-substitute) annoys me quite a bit. If it is to go in such a bitter green direction, then I prefer Jovoy's Incident Diplomatique - but this one doesn't come off so well everywhere... Such fragrances and personalities just don't want to chum up anywhere - that's a good quality after all.

Rarely has one been able to observe such high hopes for a good new designer men's fragrance as with Hermès' H24. The reasons for this are obvious: on the one hand, the brand does not launch one fragrance after the other, but rather does so with deliberation; on the other hand, Hermès does not orient itself to trends and has, after all, already had a great success with Terre d'Hermès in 2006, which continues to this day.

Christine Nagel's creation is far from the 'blue' and ambroxan-heavy perfumes or the sweet and spicy gourmands and is oriented towards the very contemporary themes of nature and sustainability (*), while the brand remains true to itself.

(* Anyway, the perfumer talks about this in the interview:
https://bellevue.nzz.ch/mode-beauty/hermes-neuer-herrenduft-h24-christine-nagel-im-interview-ld.1598832)

A little polarizes H24 already once - at least one gets this impression, if one reads the different perceptions and evaluations here. More often fell also already the term 'Fougère', which I personally do not consider applicable, because for me lavender and coumarin are missing. Instead, I would rather speak of a fruity chypre-like fragrance.

The top note I do not like so well, because although initially a fresh hint of grapefruit is to be guessed, I have gradually mainly the association with pear (which I neither smell, nor like to eat) and even to banana I feel very slightly reminded. Thus, a certain fruity sweetness resonates in the background, which bothers me, but is not on the level of many other designer fragrances. Right from the start, the two essentials of H24 are also present: sage brings a pleasant, realistic herbaceousness, and in the base there is a woody note that, although noticeably synthetic, has been used so skilfully that the scent is actually reminiscent of freshly ironed laundry and the iron still hot. Something metallic is thus already present, but comes in my opinion not stabbing therefore.

Thus, nature and modernity combine in a perfume that could well have been declared as unisex. By the herb-green and the metallic facet but the classic-masculine part prevails. All the individual notes/chords seem quite familiar to me, but in total H24 already has a high degree of independence. Due to the top note, I feel the overall composition is not quite as coherent and with four sprays, the fragrance not only lingered very steadily on my skin, but also projected for quite a long time. So airy and discreet, as some perceive him, he is not.

Even if H24 is not quite to my taste, I would be happy if with him a new trend, towards fresh, green, less sweet and especially more sustainable fragrances would begin.

Perfumes are ultimately luxury products - no one really 'needs' them, even if life is much nicer with them. And precisely because of this, more serious issues such as sustainability, fair working conditions and animal welfare are often ignored. Sana Jardin has - at least according to their own statement - dedicated themselves to exactly these. For example, orange blossom, jasmine and rose are harvested by Moroccan women, the absolues used for the brand's fragrances, but also 'waste' produced by them in the process is processed into floral water and candles, giving the women an additional income. All of Sana Jardin's products are also made without animal testing. Far too rarely do manufacturers commit themselves to social and ecological standards and I must admit that I have not dealt with them enough so far - in contrast to the reference to food or clothing for example.

As 'heavenly' I would not necessarily call Celestial Patchouli, but the fragrance seems to me very natural and high quality. The only, but for me already quite large downer is the initially strong leather note, which consequently steals the show from the patchouli. I rarely like leather and it can spoil a fragrance or two for me. Despite this presence, I feel somewhat reminded of Chanel's Coromandel (not only because of the notes given). The soft patchouli, the warm, slightly creamy sandalwood, the light resinousness and spiciness also blend here to create a sensual fragrance experience. At the same time, Celestial Patchouli is not as powdery as Coromandel, which doesn't seem floral to me by contrast. (Iris is not a decidedly floral note for me - after all, the scent comes from its root) Rose and osmanthus, which also has a leathery facet, were used by Carlos Benaim but also in rather moderate doses.
The leather plays in my opinion rather a role as a top note and fades with time, so that even more the warm base notes can unfold. On my skin, the fragrance even makes a pretty big transformation, because it becomes softer and chocolaty - much more than Coromandel - and yet not too sweet / gourmandig.

A loud perfume Celestial Patchouli is not, by the way, but over a few hours evenly perceptible. In a test I had about nine to ten hours before three sprays applied and then made sports and immediately I could smell the scent again. So there is no question of a moderate shelf life. Like Coromandel, I see Celestial Patchouli clearly as a unisex fragrance that should definitely be tested on the skin and with sufficient patience.