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First of all, a huge thank you to FRAGranTIC, who generously raffled off samples of this truly brand-new fragrance among the perfume enthusiasts and really deserved much more feedback for it. This allowed me to get my hands on this long-awaited release in a timely manner and form my own opinion.

YouTuber fragrances are a thing of their own. Especially Jeremy Fragrance has helped this special extra niche among niche perfumes break through with "Office" and "Date," and although his releases are certainly a matter of taste (and, for example, seem far too polished and mainstream to me), his example has set a precedent, and in the future, we will have to prepare for many more creations from well-known influencers. The British YouTuber Dan Naughton, alias Mr. Smelly, is no exception and quickly raised enough money last year through a Kickstarter campaign to ensure the collaboration with the real English classic nose John Stephen - and thus "Gravitas pour Homme" was born, the first fragrance collaboration from the Naughton & Wilson house.

Now, Mr. Smelly is certainly no Jeremy and could not be further from his exaggerated, over-the-top style. His calm reviews make sense, and anyone who has followed him attentively in the past will have noticed that his preference lies with the classic gentleman fragrances of the 19th and early 20th centuries. Thus, one could certainly expect "Gravitas" to be a counter-proposal to both the strained modern shower gel aquatic scents and the currently rampant gourmand flood. Accordingly, Naughton's vision indeed seamlessly fits into the retro wave that has re-emerged this year - and perhaps as a result, it suddenly doesn’t seem so unique anymore.

One wants to wish "Gravitas pour Homme" only the best, not just because of its dedicated creators. This starts right with the packaging: A high-quality bottle, a heavy gold cap, an elegant label, and an awe-inspiring crest clearly set the direction and certainly secure the fragrance an honorary place on the shelves of many collectors. Well deserved, and here Mr. Smelly is already fulfilling his promise. But ultimately, it comes down to what "Gravitas pour Homme" can do once you unleash the beast from the bottle - and we’ll get to that now.

The opening starts promisingly, if not particularly exciting for the expected fougère scent: Of course, bergamot and especially lavender make their way into the delighted olfactory organ first, and here Stephen has cleverly tricked - by giving a very fresh mandarin (which could also be seen as a lime) the right of way, he creates a greater drop height, because "Gravitas" unexpectedly starts off quickly and fresh and almost begins to froth a little. That’s great, a bit different, and at first, it’s especially unusually fruity-sweet for a gentleman's water. Pretty, but of course, such a composition chemically has no long-lasting durability, and therefore the citrus jubilation quickly settles down close to the skin and sends a powdery cloud as a substitute, in which mainly pepper dominates. Coriander timidly makes itself known as a complement, while the cardamom also mentioned remains shy in the background. At this stage, one can indeed sense the slight similarity to "Dior Homme Intense," although the office classic, of course, focuses on a completely different trajectory. "Gravitas" quickly blends out the sweetness and then settles down for the night on a bed of oak moss and a very delicate hint of patchouli, which is fitting for a fougère, but also completely unspectacular. Soon it becomes quiet on the skin. Almost too quiet.

Well. I would have liked to love "Gravitas pour Homme" unconditionally because the direction Mr. Smelly takes with his creation naturally appeals to me more than many other recent attempts. Moreover, the presentation alone commands a lot of respect, and I truly believe that "Gravitas" has a real chance in the overcrowded market. Just not with me. For a whole bottle, what is delivered here simply isn’t enough for me. Certainly, this also has to do with heightened expectations, but if I want a fougère with a modern twist, I reach for Tom Ford's much more successful "Beau de Jour," which, while not reinventing the wheel, handles the true spiciness of this genre much bolder, even at the risk of being mocked as old school. If I want classics, then there are still Houbigant's Ur-Fougère, Penhaligon's "Sartorial," or even Creed's Portuguese woodland in the running. All of these fragrances have in common that they last longer and project stronger than "Gravitas pour Homme," which is all the more disappointing because this is 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 about a great idea and a successful opening surprise that loses its identity almost completely in far too short a duration. It may be that this is the famous British understatement, but I want a fragrance that suits me, a second skin, to be able to enjoy it longer than just a fleeting moment. It’s a pity that courage was lacking at the last moment.

It’s quite an irony: What "Gravitas pour Homme" needs most urgently is a little more gravitas. In the meantime, I continue to eagerly await the second release from Dan Naughton and John Stephen and hope that the likable duo learns from their experiences. They certainly deserve it...

The images in my head have all been mentioned here:

Sports cars from the 60s. The endlessly long asphalt ribbon of Route 66, shimmering with heat, cutting through the dusty desert. The rubber of the tires, leaving a clear mark on the road after a cavalier start. Dry grass at the roadside, swirling in the gasoline-soaked exhaust fumes that linger behind the quickly disappearing taillights. Inside, the driver lovingly strokes the light brown leather of his sports seats. Facing the sun. Freedom is limitless.

That's all true. First of all, many thanks to X57deadsoulx, my hero, who tirelessly introduces me to new fragrance directions and kindly let me have the decant of C&C. This was the trigger for me to delve deeper into the scents of Imaginary Authors, a US indie fragrance house whose concept of connecting exciting stories on paper with an olfactory journey in the mind has really struck a chord with me. I will definitely provide some comments on a few more IA scents soon - but for now, back to "The Cobra and The Canary," which has already been much discussed. I can't really contribute much new to this, so I'll keep it brief, but Imaginary Authors truly deserve every mention they receive.

The first olfactory encounter with "The Cobra & The Canary" makes me recoil slightly, as a sharply chemical scent blasts through my nose directly into my brain for a few seconds, which I initially associate with a leather cleaning spray before it quickly reveals itself to be quite fresh lemon. The aforementioned and expected asphalt is still holding back for now, but soon the citrus note transitions into the familiar scent of light (synthetic) leather, and at that moment, Tom Ford's "Tuscan Leather" actually comes to mind. Only for a moment, because while the classic presents itself as a freshly opened shoebox from an Italian luxury boutique, C&C turns out to be a defiant little rebel, for whom nothing surpasses his freedom, where guys in leather jackets and women in petticoats longingly cruise down the highway until the end of time. Street dust and sun-dried grass join in, before the souped-up sports car leaves a slight oil trail on the asphalt and heads off on the next adventure. By the way, at this stage, C&C slightly reminds me of Guerlain's underrated "Cuir Intense".

"The Cobra and The Canary" has character, and not a little. Those who haven't been into untamed leather until now are unlikely to be swayed by the IA interpretation, although the scent becomes softer and more pleasing after a while. Also, the faction that prefers their leather really dirty will be disappointed by the lack of consistency after a strong start and will continue to rely on Francesca Bianchi's "The Lover's Tale" or Dior's "Leather Oud". However, those who appreciate a touch of everyday compatibility in their adventures and still don't want to show up as a polished mainstreamer in the office or club should give C&C a chance on their next perfume shop visit. The projection is quite decent, so don't overdo the sprays, and when the scent eventually retreats to skin proximity after about 7 to 8 hours, it still lingers for quite a while, this longing scent of freedom. Go for it!

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

Thanks to the almost divine Serafina (thank you again, really), I have come into possession of a small "Coven" sample, which I had been eyeing for quite some time. As a lover of green scents, Andrea Maack's forest interpretation has naturally been on my top 10 list of upcoming purchases for a while, and the little green one ultimately went up against "07 Tanoke" by Odin New York, which has shaped my understanding of forest-infused fragrances for some time and which I find absolutely fantastic. A direct comparison of both fragrances will be included in the long-overdue Tanoke commentary, but I want to reference it here to at least somewhat clearly categorize "Coven".

"Coven" starts off entirely differently than Odin's top creation, namely not with an outrageously generous dose of pine needles - but surprisingly as a wonderfully peaceful, almost floral deciduous forest. The fine sweetness is omnipresent at first, but after a while, it gives way to a spicy note that successively unfolds several aromatic herbs in a sun-drenched clearing before embarking on an exploration of soft, warm earth (while Tanoke's heart still lingers a bit higher in the needle-tipped treetops). A beautiful and imaginative scent progression, which naturally runs out of steam a bit earlier than its very expressive pine counterpart, but which tends to lean more towards the feminine side in the unisex category due to its less obstinate and overall gentler nature. Andrea Maack has avoided the often dominant hay scent trail in bright green, creating distance from the tamer 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 quickly diminishing projection, but the good scent still holds up quite well up close.

Hearty is different (for that, I refer again to "07 Tanoke," which I will delve into more closely soon), but anyone who appreciates the softly smooth journey of the Icelandic fragrance artist and is looking for an everyday companion that reliably carries its wearer through the office with a bit more subtle emphasis should be quite satisfied with "Coven." If Ms. Maack had saved a bit more of the delicious top note for the heart, a bottle would have been due at Magineer as well - as it stands, a sample will probably suffice for me now and then. Nevertheless, (very) good 8 scent points.

My first encounter with Hermés' garden line was with "Un Jardin sur le Nil" - back then, I had no idea that I would one day turn into a Fraghead. I really liked the scent and let myself be too easily unsettled by the saleswoman, who brusquely dismissed my research (Unisex!) with the words that it was really only suitable for women. However, the Nile garden always stayed in the back of my mind, and when fate, in the form of a super nice perfumer (thank you, Serafina!), handed me a sample of "Un Jardin sur le Toit," an immediate test was almost unavoidable. And to cut to the chase, I was pleasantly surprised!

The "Roof Garden" truly lives up to its name. In the opening, the fragrance does spill out a few floral notes, but it quickly transitions to its wonderfully light green heart, which indeed comes across as somewhat softer (and thus, by definition, more feminine), yet defends this gentle note with decent self-confidence. Whether the roof garden or a balcony is at the center of the projection ultimately depends on one's own imagination, but green lovers who like to switch up their forest scenarios will definitely not go wrong here. The scenario leads us out of dark forests and lush jungles into a more domesticated environment, yet the ever-present fresh grass quickly blends with a few pretty spicy accents - some garden herbs mix in, while in the background, a hint of cucumber and very well-measured pepper wafts. The fruit (the apples and pears mentioned here) remain very quiet and hardly relevant to my nose; perhaps they only contribute inconspicuously to the great overall concept of the fragrance.

What Jean-Claude Ellena has done here deserves the utmost respect. It may be a matter of the season: It is now mid-March, and after several rainy and stormy weeks, the sun has finally shown itself again in the past few days. A longing for light, for warmth, and for spring; finally, there is a glimmer of hope again. "Un Jardin sur le Toit," freshly sprayed, carries this longing outside, and a deep breath on the damp skin preserves the hope for an imminent spring against setbacks from reality. One whiff, and I am transported away from the far too early April weather here in Germany, arriving somewhere by the Mediterranean or, for that matter, even as a bon vivant on the rooftops of Paris. In doing so, "Un Jardin sur le Toit" doesn’t even dare to break out of the typical fragrance pyramid, it doesn’t clash, and remains always perceivable as a pleasant and very classic scent. What this means for you personally depends entirely on your own imagination - for me, despite a conservative core, the fragrance has the potential to break free from the typical turquoise drugstore drabness...

The small drop of bitterness at the end: True to the garden series, "Un Jardin sur le Toit" also holds back on projection and doesn’t linger on the skin longer than absolutely necessary. After four to five hours, the fascinating part of the fragrance is over, and the base behaves almost inconspicuously. However, since Hermés does not greedily demand much for this line, reapplying (almost) isn’t an issue, and so "Un Jardin sur le Toit" (alongside the nearly unbeatable "Un Jardin sur le Nil") is definitely a recommendation for all those who dread the invasion of aquatics in spring just as much as I do. Make a difference! :-)

As the name suggests, Mark Buxton drew inspiration for "Enter the Void" from the film of the same name by the French director enfant terrible Gaspar Noé. This is somewhat counterproductive, as Noé has always been good at showcasing urban realities, but typically has little to do with rural idyll as commonly interpreted. His film, on which the perfume is based, is a psychedelic journey into the depths of human nature, and the only accent in the scent that recalls this rather spectacular declaration of intent is the legendary skunk accord - which is only perceived prominently because it sits high in the description of the top note.

"Enter the Void" starts as a light green haystack, where a slightly rotten note in the background suggests a transience that does not manifest further in the scent. Instead, the sweet decay merges with the fresh-fruity kick of sour berries (currants, at least according to the description) and brings some life to the fragrance. This is quite nice and (probably not coincidentally) reminiscent of the approach of the Zoologist scents, without capturing the already unpleasantly animalistic heat of the base note from "Macaque" or the lush jungle in "Elephant" in detail. "Enter the Void" remains more cautious in this direction. More compromising. Less conspicuous. Its green is by no means unpleasant, but it does not attract attention at all. The skunk has long disappeared, the currant pulls back the kick, and light, bright wood follows. More like brush. This remains disappointingly close to the skin, and one has to wonder whom Mark Buxton intended to reach with this - the green fans are out after an hour, and those who crave more animalistic scents will continue to rely on Victor Wong's animal innovations. "Enter the Void" is consensus. And who wants that?

There’s still the name. A misstep. Gaspar, with whom I have dealt professionally several times, is quite a modest and calm person in private. If I had to gift him a perfume, it would be a leather scent, and I would probably lean towards Christian Dior's Privee gem "Leather Oud." This would reference more the sultry-threatening sexuality of "Irreversible," while I find CdG's "Concrete" more fitting for "Enter the Void" (the film) - that fresh concrete that is in my nose when Gaspar's unleashed camera winds through the urban decay of lived-in residential silos. Never, really never, would I have believed that one could find a haystack in all that swirling paranoia. Apparently, Mark Buxton did.

In conclusion, "Enter the Void" is a green fragrance for me. I like green scents. Very much. But in this area, the competition (and variety) has become so large that one really does not need the timidity of an indecisive accord advance. "Enter the Void" does not hurt. "Enter the Void" does not stink (skunk) either. "Enter the Void" remains close to the skin, and yet one still enjoys keeping the nose close. "Enter the Void" is pleasant. Really. And a decant is definitely possible. A whole bottle, on the other hand?

No, there are better options.