Kovex

Patchouli Intense is, for me, an exceptional fragrance among patchouli scents. While most patchouli fragrances exhibit an earthy and often sweetish consistency that can sometimes seem a bit shabby and often evoke associations with incense-laden hippie shop aromas, the patchouli scent created by Patricia Nicolai is characterized by an exquisite elegance that I have not encountered before.

So far, I know about a dozen of her fragrances, and whenever I discover a commonality, it is precisely this noble and sensitive elegance that is reflected in all her scents. This may not be surprising, as she grew up as the niece of the legendary Jean-Paul Guerlain in a perfume dynasty that rightly still counts among the most established fragrance houses today.

After her training as a perfumer, she initially gained practical experience through collaboration with international perfumers on behalf of renowned fragrance houses. In 1989, she finally founded her own label together with her husband, and one of the first creations from her hand, New York, is regarded by the renowned biophysicist and perfume expert Luca Turin as one of the greatest fragrances in perfume history.

I believe Patchouli Intense is in no way inferior to New York. Now declared a unisex fragrance, I envision a wearer in an evening gown and stilettos or a wearer in a fine tailored suit and bespoke leather shoes before me. The scent is as ill-suited to sneakers and hoodies as caviar is to tomato ketchup.

Patchouli Intense opens with a combination of lavender and a thick orange concentrate, which leads to the lavender losing its typical herbaceous-green note and the orange being stripped of its fruity-sparkling citrus heaviness. This means that neither the lavender nor the orange reveals itself easily, but together they create a distinctiveness that I have not smelled in this form before. Whenever I find it difficult to identify and dissect individual fragrance notes, I know that a high understanding of the ingredients and artistic craftsmanship come together here, which excites both a professional and a layperson like me.

To be honest, if I had to identify individual fragrance notes in a blind test, I might have only recognized the geranium. For me, the most masculine of all flowers, as it appears more aromatic-spicy than floral. It also does not show any suspected similarity to rose scents, although rose has been incorporated here without making an overt appearance. And the namesake patchouli? As mentioned at the beginning, there is no earthiness for me, nothing animalistic or sordid, and probably more of a fixative than a standalone dominant fragrance note.

The additional designation "Intense" seems justified to me. Patchouli Intense is a strong and long-lasting fragrance that I see more on the masculine side. This is not surprising, as the fragrance, before it was changed to the EdP variant, originally appeared as an Eau de Toilette under the name "Patchouli Homme." Nevertheless, I am sure that many women could also find pleasure in this scent.

For me, the fragrance is a masterpiece, created for the great moments of life, which does not prevent me from enjoying it alone for myself time and again.

Sometimes one gets the feeling that certain fragrances have found their way to you without you ever being on the lookout for them.

I can hardly remember how I stumbled upon Miguel Matos, probably like so often, as an addition to a nice fragrance mail that encouraged me to order a sample set of the brand he released under his own name. This was olfactory uncharted territory for me and creatively inspiring in the best sense, even though no fragrance managed to entice me to a purchase.

Shortly thereafter, a brand appeared under new releases on the homepage called "The Scent." And once again, Miguel Matos is involved with two fragrances that I also tested and assessed with the same result as above. Shortly after that, I saw a comment from a perfume enthusiast I greatly respect about a fragrance (in the extrait version) that emerged as the winner of the "Art and Olfaction Awards 2020." Young Hearts, then, by Miguel Matos. Could this still be coincidence?

Miguel Matos presents himself on Instagram as a modern hipster in the prime of his life. Black scruffy beard, somewhat quirky tattoos, and brimming with masculine attributes. I sincerely hope he is not one of those hipsters who start crying when sweat washes the anti-aging eye cream from their eyelids into their pupils during sports, instead of being a grizzly bear-hunting grumpy hermit. But opposites can indeed be appealing, and yes, I admit it, I also have eye cream in my bathroom ;)

Young Heart is available in 3 versions. The EdP version discussed here, an extrait that currently seems to be unavailable, and the Pure Essence variant. Fragrance oil concentration and thus the prices in ascending order.

Young Hearts EdP starts off green, unusual, and different. Right from the beginning, opinions will be divided; some will turn away and ask, "What is that?", while others will be enchanted, saying, "Wow, this is something new."
I immediately associate it with a rubbery glue scent. Glue that has been infused with green flowers and leaves for weeks. So, aromatic glue, penetrating, expressive, extraordinary. Synthetic? No, but also not really associated with any natural scents I know. At most, I could identify galbanum here. The fact that it is also referred to as a rubber resin reinforces my initial glue association.

Even though rose plays a minor role here, I wouldn't classify the fragrance as floral. Rather, oakmoss seems to put a stop to any sweetness and floral notes. The bitterness is not off-putting or harsh like in many chypre fragrances, but perfectly balanced. Speaking of chypre: according to the website, it is supposed to be a modern interpretation of the theme. In a blind test, I probably wouldn't have guessed chypre; Young Hearts presents itself as too independent and different. So, what is written there is indeed true: this is really a very contemporary variant of the old theme. As the fragrance develops, everything calms down a bit, becoming softer, more accessible without changing its character. I cannot detect a development of the fragrance towards other scent spectra.

The projection is, in my opinion, perfect. Young Hearts is not a fragrance you wear solely for yourself. It will definitely be perceived by those around you without being overwhelming (provided it is applied thoughtfully). I also find the longevity very satisfactory; reapplying during a workday is not necessary.

Although my fragrance collection covers a very wide range of my various preferences, Young Hearts is a solitary gem that adds new facets without being even remotely similar to any of my other fragrances. I have never smelled anything like it before. The more I wear the fragrance, the more I like it; the uniqueness becomes more familiar, and the fascination remains.

Miguel Matos is a star among perfumers for me. With numerous creations in recent years, he is a prolific artist (currently 49 fragrances since 2018) who seems to be going full throttle at the moment. Just recently, 4 more fragrances were released under his own brand. For me, it is only a matter of time before Victor Wong from Zoologist and he come together to create a new little creature. At least, I would very much wish for that; I would find it quite fitting.

I like challenging scents. Scents that do not immediately reveal the wide spectrum of sensations they provoke. Scents that you have to work for. That show new facets from time to time, fluctuate between poles, and challenge you. They seem to call out to me: I will reveal my qualities only when you get to know me better. What these perfumes have in common for me is mostly the unknown, something I have never smelled before. The range of the first impression is enormous. Not every one of these scents necessarily evokes the desire to test it a second time.

Tambour Sacré starts quite differently than the listed top notes might suggest. Since I like to categorize scents by colors, the contents of the bottle or its color reflect exactly what I smell: brown, here bitter, bulky, and completely unfamiliar. The stereotypical thinking ends here already, as I cannot think of any fragrance note that could be responsible for what I smell. What may have seemed disturbing during the first tests reveals itself after several wears to be a desire to have it again and again, reminding me of situations in life that one does not want to see, does not want to experience, and yet one must be fascinated and stare at them again and again, even though one does not want to.

I understand if the scent initially appears off-putting to some. The reflex of disgust is, after all, ingrained in the limbic system of our brain. The place where emotions and drives are processed. Where scents can touch or disgust us. If the smell is linked to a memory, this can quickly lead to a non-neutral sensation that counteracts the attempt at an objective assessment of the scent. However, Tambour Sacré feels so new to me that I can engage with it completely uninfluenced.

The bitterness gently and cautiously unfolds over the first half hour, making way for a light brown unsweetened mocha note that will dominate the scent in the following hours. Here, I clearly differentiate between dark black coffee and this unsweetened mocha note, which skillfully absorbs the bitter beginning, rounds it off, and makes it smoother. Comparisons to other authentic coffee scents like Awake by Akro or Mancera's Aoud Café are hardly applicable here, as the aforementioned are more reminiscent of food, to be precise, sweetened instant coffee, while Tambour Sacré eludes this categorization and aims to impress with naturally appearing, but not overly present coffee aromas that lie beyond the association with a hot beverage.

This may also be due to the tuberose, which appears here only in a homeopathic dosage and gives the scent more depth and volume. A slight fleshiness, from which the typical floral notes of the tuberose have been removed, contributes a bit of animalic quality, adding additional tension to the scent. Here it is again: the fascination of the unknown, the desire to process these new scent impressions, to categorize them, to put them into drawers. But it may not succeed, Tambour Sacré fits into no drawer.

Over the next few hours, it gradually becomes more pleasant, warmer, and milder. A tiny pinch of cinnamon and a barely hinted sweetness sneak in almost imperceptibly. Light dry woods, only hinted at, as the aroma of the also lightly roasted coffee beans remains with me for a long time.

The bottle is that simple and common model used by many smaller niche brands and differs only by the cap. A nice detail is the packaging made of two Iroko wood bowls, which is quite rare and can only be found in the tropical part of Africa, including Ethiopia (the manufacturer assures that it is made exclusively from recycled wood).

Tambour Sacré - the sacred drums of Ethiopia are also what Cristiano Canali wants to bring us closer to with his scent. A country full of exotic smells of spices and woods, whose smoke differs from the local scent of burnt wood, adding nuances that recalibrate sensory impressions.

Who would have thought that Tambour Sacré would increasingly show a conciliatory side and, after many hours, still reveal a sensual aspect that still carries something different within it, as if one were sharing a bed with a stranger.

This is exciting, even though it already makes me crave to spray again to enjoy those wonderfully bitter first minutes. No, Tambour Sacré is not simple and it certainly does not fit into any of my drawers. What remains is the fascination of the unknown and the knowledge of having found a scent that lies beyond the common fragrance taste.

Chypre fragrances and I have always had a difficult relationship. It wasn't until I delved deeper into the subject and became aware of what defines a Chypre that I realized the seeds of an unconscious antipathy had been sown in my childhood. Of course, as a child, I didn't know that it was the Chypre fragrances I disliked in my mother.

The scent of wood has always been more appealing to me than the fragrance of flowers. Even today, I often associate Chypre with cool-floral, aloof, distant, strict, and so on. The list of negatively charged attributes would be longer than that of the positive ones. It was fragrances like Chypre Palatin, Maai, or the wonderful Cosmic by Solange Azagury-Partridge that showed me that other instruments are capable of playing a different tune.

Right from the start, Chyprette displays the typical signature of Annette Neuffer. The bitter orange she so frequently uses is initially the only note I can perceive in isolation. As is often the case with her fragrances, the texture is so densely woven, flowing seamlessly into one another, that individual scent notes are hardly discernible. A brushstroke of Orientalism, common to many of her fragrances, also reveals who was at work here.

Chyprette immediately melts into a dark green, brown-tinged warming blanket of balsamic-woody notes, which nonetheless marks the Chypre theme with a gentle strictness. I like to attribute this part to the oak moss and I also perceive the tobacco quite distinctly. Here, however, it is not sweet pipe tobacco, but rather the aromatic-spicy, almost bitter, fermented tobacco leaves used for cigars. To my delight, all of the aforementioned are capable of curbing any potential impression of floral or even sweet notes.

It is a warm-soft, balsamic-spicy stream of melancholy that resonates in Chyprette. Like the tender stroke of horsehair from a cello bow over the string, one remains in quiet contemplation of the touching minor key that Chyprette strikes.

This fragrance evokes a wave of comfort in me that is infinitely far from what I wrote above about my associations with Chypres. Chyprette is not aloof or distant; on the contrary. When I first smelled the fragrance, I could hardly believe how deeply a perfume can touch the soul. I almost cried from beauty.

Concerns about the price were charmingly but firmly brushed aside. With a mysterious Mona Lisa smile, Chyprette passed by all my favorites, aware of its inner qualities but not reliant on overt expression. I should really lower all my 10 ratings, but let's leave that aside and agree on "Primus inter pares" - the first among equals. An exceptional fragrance.

The original version of Bat from 2015 was my first fragrance that I tested from Zoologist. The impression it left was a lasting one. I was fascinated by the perfectly executed thematic representation of the flying cave dwellers in a scent. Nevertheless, my wife's first wearing test was met with the question of which crypt I had emerged from. And I must admit: as brilliant as I found it, I also found it quite difficult to wear.

Now, several fragrances from Zoologist have already undergone a revision, such as Beaver and Panda. And of course, fans are always concerned that the very special quality that defines a fragrance may be lost with its reformulation.

While the extremely likable brand owner Victor Wong took his customers' feedback to heart and revised Beaver and Panda for the sake of appeal and wearability, it cannot be denied that even an idealist like him has to make money at the end of the day to keep his business running. Bat had a large fan base, and there was no reason to change the scent.

However, the reasons for the revision of Bat were different. As far as I could find out, the rights to the fragrances lie with the respective perfumers, who distribute their creations under a time-limited licensing agreement with the Zoologist brand. When it came to the license renewal for Bat in 2015, the responsible perfumer Dr. Ellen Covey wanted to achieve significantly higher fees for the renewal of the Bat license. Victor Wong rejected this, as a reasonable pricing structure no longer seemed possible for him. He then sought other ways to continue distributing the successful Bat.

With Prin Lomros, Victor Wong has gained what I consider to be a brilliant perfumer who takes innovative paths, being both creative and bold.

Bat 2020 starts with a strong and full fruity note. The delicate unsweet green of the fig harmonizes fantastically with the sweet-sour aroma of guava and the exotic fruitiness of passion fruit, although I do not presume to have been able to recognize these notes blindfolded.

This quite appealing fruitiness is accompanied by pleasantly aromatic-earthy notes. There are indeed parallels to the old version, only that the whole thing here appears much smoother, more harmonious, and more appealing. While Bat
2015 still tried to consistently implement the theme, the new version focuses on greater wearability. Is that bad or reprehensible? Not at all, as I can equally be enthusiastic about the new composition.

The initial fruitiness remains in hints, but as the fragrance develops, very naturally occurring mineral notes join in. One has the feeling of sniffing the entire microcosm of a handful of aromatic, slightly sweet earth. For a nature-loving person like me, this is a revelation.

A certain animalic quality is common to many Zoologist fragrances. Sometimes pushed to the limits of tolerance, it gives Bat that certain something that adds extra tension to the scent. However, all the notes are so delicately intertwined that no urinous or filthy image can emerge.

I was also skeptical whether a worthy successor could replace the old version, and I was proven wrong. And Prin Lomros? I will keep an eye on him, grateful that Victor Wong brought him on board and that it hasn’t just been this one project. Bat has made it directly onto my wish list.

And for all those who still mourn the 2015 version of Bat, there is good news at the end: it still exists.
I haven’t had the opportunity to test it yet, but the brand Olympic Orchids Artisan Perfumes has re-released the scent under the name Night Flyer. Responsible perfumer - how could it be otherwise: Dr. Ellen Covey.