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First of all, a huge thank you to FRAGranTIC, who generously raffled samples of this now really brand new fragrance among the perfumers and would have deserved much more feedback. This way I was able to get this long awaited new release in a short time and I was able to see for myself

YouTuber scents are a thing of their own. Especially Jeremy Fragrance has helped this special niche fragrance niche to break through with "Office" and "Date", and although his releases will probably remain a matter of taste (and for me, for example, have become much too smooth mainstream), his example has set a precedent and in the future we will have to prepare ourselves for many more creations of well-known influencers. The British YouTuber Dan Naughton alias Mr. Smelly is no exception and last year he quickly raised enough money through a kickstarter campaign to secure the cooperation of the real English classic nose John Stephen - and so "Gravitas pour Homme" was the first fragrance collaboration of Naughton & Wilson.

Now, of course, Mr. Smelly is no Jeremy and could not be further removed from his exalted, overexcited nature. His unagitated reviews have their hands and feet, and anyone who has followed him closely in the past will have noticed that his preference is for the classic 19th and early 20th century gentleman's fragrance. And so "Gravitas" could certainly be expected to be a counter-design to both the strained modern shower gel aquatic system and the currently rampant gourmand glut. Accordingly, Naughton's vision does indeed fit in seamlessly with the retro wave that has regained strength this year - and as a result suddenly no longer seems so unique.

One would like to wish "Gravitas pour Homme" only the best, not only because of its dedicated makers. That starts with the packaging: A high-quality bottle, a heavy golden cap, a noble label and an awe-inspiring coat of arms clearly indicate the direction of the fragrance and will certainly secure it a place of honour on the shelves of many collectors. Well deserved, and here Mr. Smelly is already fulfilling his promise. But in the end it all depends on what "Gravitas pour Homme" can do, as soon as you let the beast out of the bottle - and we'll get to that now.

The prelude starts promisingly, though not particularly exciting for the expected Fougere scent: Of course, bergamot and especially lavender first make their way into the delighted olfactory organ, and here Stephens has cleverly tricked - by giving way to a very fresh tangerine (which could also be a lime in this sense), he creates a greater drop height, because "Gravitas" unexpectedly starts quickly and freshly and almost starts to foam a little. That's great, also a bit different, and in the first moment especially unusually fruity sweet for a gentleman's water. Pretty, but of course such a composition doesn't have a too long shelf life due to chemical reasons, and that's why the citric cheerful cry of cheer goes to sleep relatively quickly near the skin and sends a powdery cloud as a substitute, in which pepper dominates mainly. Coriander timidly appears as a supplement, the cardamom, which is also listed, remains shyly in the background. At this stage, one can actually guess the slight similarity to "Dior Homme Intense" mentioned below, although the office classic naturally focuses its attention on a completely different course. "Gravitas" quickly fades out the sweetness and then beds down for a night's rest on a bed of oak moss and a very delicate patchouli touch, which is fitting for a fougere, yet also completely unspectacular. Soon it becomes calm on the skin. Almost too quiet.

Yeah. I would have loved "Gravitas pour Homme" more unconditionally, because the direction Mr. Smelly is taking with his creation here naturally appeals to me more than many other attempts in recent times. Moreover, the presentation alone demands a lot of respect, and I believe that "Gravitas" has a real chance in the crowded market. Just not with me. For a whole bottle, what is delivered here is simply not enough for me. Surely this has to do with increased expectations, but if I want Fougere with a modern twist, I resort to Tom Ford's far more successful "Beau de Jour", which also doesn't reinvent the wheel, but serves the real spiciness of this genre much more courageously, even at the risk of being mocked as old school. If I want classics, then there's still Houbigant's Original, Penhaligon's "Sartorial" or even Creed's Portuguese grove to choose from. By the way, all these fragrances have in common that they last longer and project more strongly than "Gravitas pour Homme", which is all the more disappointing because this is actually supposed to be an Extrait de Parfum. If Mr. Smelly hadn't printed that on the bottle, I wouldn't have believed it. So it's a shame to have a great idea and a successful opening surprise that almost completely loses its identity in far too short a time. It may be that this is the famous British understatement, but a fragrance that suits me, a second skin, I would like to be able to enjoy for longer than just a fleeting moment. It's a pity that in the last moment the courage was missing.

It is a particular irony: what "Gravitas pour Homme" needs most urgently is a little more gravitas. In the meantime, I'm still eagerly waiting for the second litter of Dan Naughton and John Stephen and hope that the likeable duo will learn from their experiences. It is still to be wished them...

The pictures in the head have all already been mentioned here:

Sports cars from the 60s. The endlessly long asphalt strip of Route 66, which, shimmering with heat, cuts through the middle of the dusty desert. The rubber of the wheels that, after a cavalier start, lays a pattern across the road as a clear trail. Dry grass by the roadside, swirling in the gasoline-soaked exhaust fumes, which remain behind the quickly disappearing taillights. Inside, the driver strokes the light brown leather of his sports seats with a feeling of self-love. Towards the sun. The freedom is boundless.

All true. First of all many thanks to X57deadsoulx, my hero, who tirelessly introduces me to new fragrances and who kindly let me take care of the bottling of C&C. This was the trigger for me to take a closer look at the fragrances of the Imaginary Authors, a US-Indie fragrance house whose concept of combining exciting stories on paper with an olfactory journey in my head opened doors for me. Some more IA scents will be commented on by me in the near future - but at this point back to "The Cobra and The Canary", about which a lot has already been said. I can't contribute much new stuff and therefore I'll keep it short, but the Imaginary Authors really deserve every mention they get here.

The first olfactory encounter with "The Cobra & The Canary" makes me bounce back a bit, because for a few seconds a pungent chemical smell blasts through my nose directly into my cerebrum, where I first associate a leather cleaning spray, before it quickly turns out to be a rather fresh lemon. The above-mentioned and expected asphalt is still holding back for the time being, but soon the citrusy smell flows into the familiar smell of light (artificial) leather, and at this moment the Tom Ford "Tuscan Leather" actually comes to my mind. Only very briefly, because while the classic presents itself as a freshly opened shoebox from a fine Italian boutique, C&C turns out to be a defiant little rebel, with nothing like his freedom, where guys in leather jackets and women in petticoats cruise the highway longingly until the end of time. They are joined by road dust and sun-dried grass before the pimped-out sports car spits a light trail of oil on the tarmac and sets off on its next adventure. Here in this phase C&C reminds a bit of Guerlain's underrated "Cuir Intense".

"The Cobra and the Canary" has character, and no small amount of that. If you haven't been into unrestrained leather so far, you probably won't let the IA interpretation change your mind, although after a while the fragrance becomes softer and more pleasing. Even the faction who prefer their leather really dirty will be disappointed by the lack of consequence after a strong opening and will continue to fall back on Francesca Bianchi's "The Lover's Tale" or Dior's "Leather Oud". But if you appreciate a touch of everyday compatibility in your adventures and still don't want to serve as a smooth-ridden mainstreamer in the office or club, you should give C&C a chance at your next perfumery visit. The projection is very neat, so don't overdo the spraying, and if the scent at some point after 7 to 8 hours recedes close to the skin, it will stick here for quite a while, this yearning scent of freedom. Go for it!

Well done, Josh Meyer. May the stories you dreamed of continue to accompany us reliably through the grey everyday life in the future. Can't wait for the next adventure...

Thanks to the downright divine Serafina (thanks again, really), I have come into possession of a small "coven" bottling, which I have been flirting with for quite some time anyway. As a lover of greenery, Andrea Maack's interpretation of the forest has been in the top 10 list of my next purchases for quite some time, and the little green one finally competed against "07 Tanoke" by Odin New York, which has been shaping my understanding of forest-based scents for some time now and which I find absolutely great. A direct comparison of the two fragrances can be found in the long overdue Tanoke commentary, but of course I want to point this out here, so that at least "Coven" can be classified more or less clearly.

"Coven" starts completely different from Odin's top throw, namely not with an outrageously generous load of spruce needles - but surprisingly as a wonderfully peaceful, almost flowery deciduous forest. The fine sweetness is omnipresent at first, but then after a while it gives way to a spicy note, which declares a few aromatic herbs one after the other in a sun-drenched clearing, before setting off on a journey of exploration into soft warm earth (while Tanoke's heart still lingers a little higher in the needle-like treetops). A beautiful and imaginative fragrance, which naturally runs out of air a little earlier than its very expressive spruce counterpart, but which tends more towards femininity in the unisex area due to its less unruly and generally gentler nature. Andrea Maack has avoided the hay scent trail that often dominates in the light green, thus creating distance to the more tamed representatives, including those from Hermés' garden series ("Un Jardin sur le Toit"). What she shares a bit with the more well-known fragrance house is the rapidly fading projection, but up close the good one keeps herself quite brave.

Kernig is different (but again the reference to the "07 Tanoke", which I'll go into in more detail soon), but if you appreciate the soft and smooth tour of the Icelandic fragrance artist and are looking for an everyday companion that will take its wearer through the office reliably with a little more subtle emphasis, you'll probably be quite satisfied with "Coven". If Mrs. Maack had saved a little more of the delicious top note into her heart, a bottle would have been due at Magineer's as well - so a bottling every now and then would probably be enough for me. Nevertheless (very) good 8 fragrance points.

I had my first encounter with Hermés' garden series with "Un Jardin sur le Nil" - at that time without knowing that I might one day mutate into a fraghead. I liked the scent very much and at that time I was too much unsettled by the shop assistant who brusquely dismissed my research (unisex!) with the words that it was really only suitable for women. The Nile garden, however, always remained in the back of my mind, and when fate played a sample of "Un Jardin sur le Toit" into my hands in the form of a super-lovely perfume (thank you, Serafina!), an immediate test was almost inevitable. And, to anticipate it, I was positively surprised!

The "roof garden" bears his name quite rightly. In the beginning, the fragrance pours out a few more baskets of flowers, but changes quite quickly to its wonderful light green heart, which actually comes across a bit softer (and thus by definition more feminine), but defends this gentle note with decent self-confidence. Whether roof garden or balcony is the focus of the projection is ultimately left to one's own imagination, but green lovers who like to change their forest scenarios more often won't do anything wrong here. The scenario leads us out of dark forests and lush jungles into a more domesticated environment, but the omnipresent fresh grass quickly combines with some nice spicy accents - some garden herbs interfere, in the background some cucumber and very well dosed pepper. The fruit (the apples and pears mentioned here) remain very quiet and hardly relevant to my nose, maybe they just contribute unobtrusively to the great overall concept of the fragrance.

What Jean-Claude Ellena has done here deserves the utmost respect. Maybe it's a matter of season: It's now mid-March, and after several rainy and stormy weeks, the sun has come out for the first time in the last few days. Longing for light, for warmth and spring, finally it has a glimmer of hope again. "Un Jardin sur le Toit" freshly sprayed on carries this longing outside, and a deep breath on the wetted skin protects the hope for the coming spring from setbacks from reality. Smell it once, and I am away from the much too early April weather here in Germany, arrived somewhere at the Mediterranean Sea or even as an artist of life on the roofs of Paris. But "Un Jardin sur le Toit" doesn't even dare to break out of the typical scent pyramid, doesn't get in the way, and is always perceived as a pleasant and very classic scent. The rest is left to your imagination...

The small drop of bitterness at the end: Typical for the garden series "Un Jardin sur le Toit" also holds back with the projection and doesn't linger on its own skin longer than absolutely necessary. After four to five hours the fascinating part of the fragrance is over, the base remains inconspicuous. But as Hermés does not hold out his hand too much for this series, spraying is (almost) not an issue, and thus, "Un Jardin sur le Toit" (beside the almost unassailable "Un Jardin sur le Nil") remains in any case a tip for all those who are as much dreading the invasion of the aquatics in spring as I am. Make a difference! :-)

As the name suggests, Mark Buxton's "Enter the Void" was inspired by the film of the same name by French director enfant terrible Gaspar Noé. This is somewhat counterproductive in a way, because Noé has always been good at showing urban actualities, but generally has little to do with rural idyll according to popular interpretation. His film, on which the perfume is based, is a psychedelic journey into the abysses of human nature, and the only accent in the fragrance that recalls this rather spectacular declaration of intent is the legendary skunk chord - which is only perceived in this way because it is quite prominently enthroned in the description of the top note.

"Enter the Void" starts as a light green haystack, with a slightly lazy note in the background suggesting transience, which then does not manifest itself further in the fragrance. Instead, the sweetish depravity combines with the fresh, fruity kick of sour berries (Johnannisberry, at least according to the Beshcreibung) and brings some life to the fragrance. That's quite nice and reminds (probably not by chance) of the approach of the Zoologist fragrances, without capturing the already unpleasant animal rut of the base note of "Macaque" or the voluptuous jungle in "Elephant" in detail. "Enter the Void remains more cautious in this direction. More willing to compromise. More inconspicuous. Its green is far from unpleasant, but it does not attract attention at all. The skunk has long since disappeared, the currant drives the kick back, followed by light, bright wood. More like undergrowth. The same remains disappointingly close, and the question arises as to whom Mark Buxton wanted to reach with it - the green fans are out after an hour and those for whom it can't be animalistic enough will continue to rely on Victor Wong's animal innovations. "Enter the Void" is consensus. And who wants it?

That still leaves the name. It was a bad call. Gaspar, with whom I had to deal several times professionally, is privately a quite modest and calm person. If I had to give him a perfume as a present, it would be a leather scent, and probably I would resort to Christian Dior's Privee jewel "Leather Oud". This would allude more to the sultry, threatening sexuality of "Irreversible", while for "Enter the Void" (the film) I would find more appropriate CdG's "Concrete" aks - that fresh concrete that is in my nose when Gaspar's unleashed camera winds its way through the urban decay of decaying residential silos. Never, really never, would I have believed that a haystack could be found in all that swirling paranoia. Mark Buxton apparently did

Finally, "Enter the Void" is a green fragrance for me. I like green scents. But the competition (and variety) in this field is now so great that you really don't need the timidity of a draw scent. "Enter the Void" doesn't hurt. "Enter the Void" doesn't stink(animal)t either. "Enter the Void stays close, but you still like to hold your nose. "Enter the Void is nice. I'm sure we can get you bottled. A whole bottle? No, there's better.