Lanatra

The opening is captivating, with lots of citric and spicy impressions. The saffron note is very interesting, because saffron changes connotations depending on the recipe it is used in. In this case, I am reminded of a certain Nordic bakery product that includes saffron and succade (candied citrons).
It only takes half a minute for the suede impression to establish itself, and after another minute the mineral qualities are prominent, accompanied with a nice freshness that I suppose others refer to as "ozonic" and/or "airy". It is as if the spices and citrus recedes a bit and lets in a whiff of air, absolutely. After a few hours of dry down, the suede impression slowly transforms into rather woodiness, so I would say the development has three nicely integrated stages from citric-spicy to leathery-metallic into woody-spicy in the end.

It is impossible not to think about Encre Noire, since Ganymede is a very similar concept in terms of highly modern minimalism and leather-earthy allusions. But where EN to me alludes to leatherbound books, libraries, book shops and conifer woods, Ganymede rather represents a technological context that can be anything from a luxurious hotel lobby, or your home office desk as you open the box of your new laptop whilst you are fresh out of the shower. Or it can be a new car interior, the memory of embarking an international flight for the first time as a child – everything depending on your experience. However, I must say that I find it not sharp at all, and I think there are some naturalistic enough essential oil impressions that balances out very nicely. The challenge with modern perfumery is often harsh paint solvent or petrochemical notes that not everyone will perceive – or they will at least not perceive them negatively. Terre d'Hermès is a prominent example of a scent I liked but could never get comfortable with, whereas Ganymede is only pleasant to my nose.
Furthermore, to continue a bit with the Encre Noire comparison: The mineral qualities are not earth, but stainless steel and copper; citric woodiness is not cypress and vetiver, but citrus peel derivates with a woodiness that has a dusty aspect I recognise from natural immortelle and violet leafs. On top of that, as mentioned, there is a subtle spicyness I really like. It is therefore softer and more unisex than EN.

So who can wear this? I would not mind Ganymede on a woman in public spaces, but I would not love it on someone I was intimate with. To be more specific, I must say I would not perceive it as "butch" or anything on a female colleague, but, for some reason, in private use I still think it leans a lot more masculine. That should make it a nice, professional office/daytime scent for anyone. But I do recommend trying it first for both women and men and maybe let your special someone get a whiff and give their opinion before you buy – it is quite unique I think.
A thought on this: I think it would be sad if everything at the workplace was to be de-sexualised. But it is also clear that most workplaces would benefit from less distinct sex based stereotyping and perfumery can be seen as a symbol of that evolution, which in sum is a good thing for everyone. Most of us both need to have and actually have different arenas in our lives, and those who use perfume should maybe more often think about the impression they wish to project to others in different contexts. In this perspective, I think Ganymede is a great example of pleasant but quite unique scents that has just enough of everything to make them "sexually versatile" whilst maintaining some power of allusion for those who reflect a bit on what they smell around them. Being innovative/"modern" is therefore an advantage, because that means people will be less burdened with preconceptions and associations with one or the other gender.

On my skin, the performance is good. Tenacity is approximately 8 hours which I like; projection and sillage above average in the beginning, but fortunately not too intrusive.

Absolutely recommended you try this!

I cannot, under any circumstances, get myself to rate this exceptional perfume, for a few good reasons.

First: It is a magnificent work of art, simply stunning. Now, you could say the same about many pieces of art: They are stunning, fascinating; they are enriching your life, and they are an experience you would not want to be without. And yet, at the same time, they can be deeply disturbing. Orto Parisi's Megamare is one of those. To wear it is in some aspects like having Picasso's _Guernica_ on the wall at home: It is a famous, fantastic work of art but it is also highly likely that it would be far too big, intrusive and disturbing at home. How do you rate that?

Second, it is a fantastic scent that I do love, and as a purely olfactory experience it is quite masculine and quite pleasant at the same time. Many reviews state that it has some challenging notes, but I found those to be very exaggerated. While it contains indeed some uncommon facets, it is strange, 18 years since Terre d'Hermès, to claim it is a revolutionary scent. At first, I could not help myself thinking that the people who hate it the most, don't eat fish and/or cannot swim either, since my first hours of wear were wonderful. I already knew that overspraying would be a bad idea through reading other reviews. But then, after 24 hours, some of the aromachemicals starts to morph into something rather petrochemical, or paint solvent. This is something to which people react differently, but where the mentioned Terre d'Hermès has a weak, lingering solvent smell for me that is there all the time, Megamare offers a backlash tsunami of it on day 2. Yes: On day 2. After washing my hands five times, and a shower, it is still there.

So alas, it is simply not wearable for me. I put on an entirely different perfume today that I cannot smell at all. In the morning hours, Megamare was still a linear scent, but now at 14:00 there are just more and more solvents. It is not so strong that it is nauseating, but nevertheless it occupies my senses too much. Like a lover who simply won't give you space.

Do I recommend it? Yes, but under certain conditions:
- You need to be the signature scent kind of guy, because it takes two days before anything else is possible to wear.
- You need to try it on first to check it with your specific skin chemistry
- You cannot be sensitive towards the fumes from oil painting in the dry down. Yes, if you dislike being in a room that was recently painted with oil based paint, you will get the same whiffs from Megamare on day 2.
- You cannot have a special someone in your life who is sensitive towards it either. I would be able to live with it if you were a colleague in the same meeting room or office, but not in bed, if you understand.

The opening is simply full of spicy autumn vegetables and fruits and they are all combative and full of character. While this might sound odd I think it is amazing. As you might guess from the metrics, this is a scent that is a little bit polarising, but it is undeservedly underrated on this site; L'Art de la guerre is a modern yet timeless, niche, vegetal fougère that is unparalleled in my book.

In the opening and for 30 minutes you will, then, perhaps be a little bit surprised by everything going on. Anyone with a bit of cooking experience will recognise the combination of rhubarb, green apple and celery stalks as a very contrasting yet successful balancing act of aromatics, the surprise to me is how well it works together when you cannot intervene with sweetness and acidity that you can on the tongue. Supported by leafy herbals (violet and patchouli) and spicy nutmeg, the aromatic vegetal impression remain a signature throughout the full 8-12 hours this scent will last you, but eventually lavender, oakmoss and sandalwood comes through and suddenly there are nods of recognition towards the classical fougères. You can feel the debt it owes to Pour Un Homme de Caron (1934) and Trumper's Wild Fern (1877) but yet it is idiosyncratic and its entirely own thing – none of the talcum notes of Caron nor the strong coumarin of Wild Fern.

Once the base is properly established, the ever so odd combinations are lifted into a state of harmony and peace. Some have said elsewhere that it is a little sweet, but I disagree. The rounded odours you will find in especially fruits are not by destiny associated with sweetness although in the memory of many it will; damascenones, esters, ketones are prone to fool the brain into believing that sweetness will eventually reach your tongues receptors, a bit like when you smell and taste a bone dry yet fruity white wine. But I find L'Art de la Guerre to be very little "sweet" myself, although other people might have different experiences. At any rate, it all balances out, and I think some of the magic is that the drydown feels both so classically masculine and yet so idiosyncratic at the same time. Anyone with ever so slightly developed olfactory receptors will notice that this is not your average male scent, whereas those who prefer mainstream scents will fully accept it (at least if my varied surroundings are anything to go by). Although Jovoy presents it as unisex, it is a bit difficult for me to imagine women appreciating the long lasting oakmossy drydown phase.

I found so many olfactory memories in this fantastic scent. I love it, and I would say it is entirely unisex by current standards.

It smells like a sort of blend of all the girls I knew at the age of around 18-20 when everyone had a 1970s fling around the release of the film The Doors, when Lenny Kravitz was the king of contemporary hippie rock and the captain of every young woman’s heart (me being slightly envious obviously; I was a very heterosexual young male). The girls wore essential oils mostly, with just a light touch of top notes from some perfume, if any. Designer fragrances were simply not a thing, it was reserved for 30+ women with heavy make up, and businessmen (apart from my crowd wearing Jazz, Dalí Pour Homme, Fahrenheit, perhaps Ungaro pour homme — only a few select ones that had some artistic reputation).

For a moment I thought of Lagerfeldt for men, but with several added layers of complexity, especially top notes with patchouli and labdanum. But now after a couple of hours, everything just floats in a dreamlike, psychedelic flow back and forth, up and down. Marvellous perfume.

Difficult to see myself wearing it, but rest assured that I will gift this one to a special someone as soon as possible. In fact, To All the Girls I've Loved Before. Let Love Rule, as Lenny put it.

PS;
There is an initial blast of strong camphor, with sharp menthol and alcohol that very quickly fades, so there is no point in any test run of less than five minutes. It is very strong, so spray onto skin while not wearing anything else that interferes.

The first whiff from AdP Quercia takes me back many years. I was a teenager and this was not a style I wore myself, but I loved it. To me, it is not as much a walk in an oak wood as it is a walk in the morning hours through the departure area of perhaps Schiphol, Charles de Gaulle or Frankfurt Main, cirka 1991.
AdP (as in Acqua di Parma, not Aéroports de Paris...) Quercia is an excellent, fresh morning scent to me. It is a presence that lasts for many, many hours. It is also a very solid and linear scent that will last you the whole day, excellent quality

While you might say "What's not to like" at this point, this is not a bottle I own. I was close to, but gave up after 5-6 wearings. The reason was that I simply grew a bit tired of it. You see, it still sings "Good morning" well after 16:00, in a voice just a little bit more creaky and worn. Trying to break down exactly what happens, I realised that this perfume sings a song that lacks a baseline, and without it, it does not carry through and becomes ever so little annoying. Whatever counterpart Quercia had in the 80s-90s was grounded with a solid barbershop base, that ensured a safe landing sometime in the early afternoon.

The concept is not dissimilar to Colonia Essenza, although with very different ingredients: Colonia Essenza starts out smelling absolutely lovely, albeit very soapy. But after a time, whatever there was that supported the lovely high notes is gone. And from being an accomplished luxurious soap, it ends up being your regular one.

It is a bit of an Entzauberung process that happens. Acqua di Parma is generally expensive, and Quercia EDP especially so. So therefore, I cannot accept that the world class soprano voice from the morning hours sounds like my highly beloved, but not very musical grandmother after lunch.