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Sons and Planets
I don't want to delve too much into mythology and all the frills here, my predecessors have already done that and better than I ever could. Still, I want to emphasize how beautiful I find the name - Ganymede - what a melodious name, especially fitting for a fragrance! Besides the beauty of the sound, the meaning, especially the legendary story behind the name invites thoughts, interpretations, and even daydreams. Ganymede was supposedly abducted by Zeus, something like a surprise adoption, because Zeus liked him very much - and the largest moon of Jupiter was also named Ganymede, probably due to this legend of the "adoption." So I already associate this fragrance with two eras - antiquity and the future in which we (perhaps one day) will inhabit foreign planets. These very different epochs have been wonderfully highlighted and elegantly intertwined through the olfactory facets crafted by Mr. Bisch.
Now, let's go in order…
The bottle - is simple and elegant.
The calligraphy and the logo of Barrois paired with the golden base color of the glass bottle unite for me the opulence of ancient hedonism with the simplicity of minimalist modernity, a pinch of stardust, and a touch of Art Deco from the 1920s. How fitting that Ganymede is experiencing its rise in the 2020s…. It almost seems as if the bottle was designed back then for the perfume of the future. Like those drawings and images from the 60s imagining what the 2000s would be like, you know which ones I mean? Something like Perfume Fiction?!
And the sprayer is incredibly good, even and wide mist - pure love!
The scent - is fresh, woody, floral, cool, spicy, metallic… multifaceted.
What do you not read here, from "well, woody fresh" to "smells like Indian curry" and "maggi note," or the medicinal impressions from the straw flower. And I must confess - they are all right. For me, however, Ganymede is primarily fruity-floral with a lot of wood. I find it quite masculine, elegant, and well-rounded. The (curry) saffron note is only perceived in a disturbing manner when you sniff directly at the spray point - in the sillage, it contributes to the completion of this unique and complex composition in a contrasting way. Overall, I can understand many predecessors and their associations - it also has something metallic about it, something futuristic, something that makes one think of Jupiter and the moon Ganymede, of stardust. Does the universe smell like this if it had a scent? In any case, this fragrance is almost a paradox, as I also have the image of an ancient Greek/Roman temple near a field of straw flowers in my mind. On the other hand, it somehow smells synthetic, not cheap, but the scent is novel and "out there" - as if it were uniting two worlds.
Nevertheless, or perhaps precisely because of that, it evokes pleasant feelings and a certain sense of security and well-being aura.
It is interesting, complex, and mass-appealing, a crowd-pleaser and an intriguing nose-pleaser. The best of both eras, so to speak...
A nice side fact: Ganymede apparently stood for the Romans as a symbol of the elevation of the soul above the earthly... I find that somehow fitting too.
Now, let's go in order…
The bottle - is simple and elegant.
The calligraphy and the logo of Barrois paired with the golden base color of the glass bottle unite for me the opulence of ancient hedonism with the simplicity of minimalist modernity, a pinch of stardust, and a touch of Art Deco from the 1920s. How fitting that Ganymede is experiencing its rise in the 2020s…. It almost seems as if the bottle was designed back then for the perfume of the future. Like those drawings and images from the 60s imagining what the 2000s would be like, you know which ones I mean? Something like Perfume Fiction?!
And the sprayer is incredibly good, even and wide mist - pure love!
The scent - is fresh, woody, floral, cool, spicy, metallic… multifaceted.
What do you not read here, from "well, woody fresh" to "smells like Indian curry" and "maggi note," or the medicinal impressions from the straw flower. And I must confess - they are all right. For me, however, Ganymede is primarily fruity-floral with a lot of wood. I find it quite masculine, elegant, and well-rounded. The (curry) saffron note is only perceived in a disturbing manner when you sniff directly at the spray point - in the sillage, it contributes to the completion of this unique and complex composition in a contrasting way. Overall, I can understand many predecessors and their associations - it also has something metallic about it, something futuristic, something that makes one think of Jupiter and the moon Ganymede, of stardust. Does the universe smell like this if it had a scent? In any case, this fragrance is almost a paradox, as I also have the image of an ancient Greek/Roman temple near a field of straw flowers in my mind. On the other hand, it somehow smells synthetic, not cheap, but the scent is novel and "out there" - as if it were uniting two worlds.
Nevertheless, or perhaps precisely because of that, it evokes pleasant feelings and a certain sense of security and well-being aura.
It is interesting, complex, and mass-appealing, a crowd-pleaser and an intriguing nose-pleaser. The best of both eras, so to speak...
A nice side fact: Ganymede apparently stood for the Romans as a symbol of the elevation of the soul above the earthly... I find that somehow fitting too.
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The Magician and the Con Job
Magician
Noun, masculine [der]
1. someone who possesses magical powers; wizard
2. someone who performs magic tricks, showcases
A magician, also an illusionist or wizard, is an artist of the performing art of magic.
"The art of magic (also known as conjuring and sorcery) describes a form of performing art that understands how to evoke illusions in the minds of viewers and feelings in the hearts of people through artistic communication (verbal and non-verbal) and by using various techniques and methods. The performance is not bound to any specific location or situation. The more willing the viewer is to be enchanted, the greater the illusion can become in their imagination." - Wikipedia
Welcome dear Parfumas and Parfumos, I am the great Duadini and will take you on a journey into a world full of illusions...
Friends, friends, friends - of course, I am not the great Duadini, I am Manuel Neuer.
But jokes aside... Why the long intro? I would like to address a topic that has been on my mind for a long time. Namely, how Dua manages to create the illusion of a good fragrance.
As should be known by now, Dua primarily copies fragrances from well-known niche and designer brands. Especially through what is called reverse engineering.
"Reverse engineering (English; German: umgekehrt entwickeln, rekonstruieren, abbreviation: RE; also Nachkonstruktion) refers to the process of extracting the construction elements from an existing finished system or a product that is mostly industrially manufactured by examining the structures, states, and behaviors. Thus, a plan is created again from the finished object." - Wikipedia
This is done by hunting down the fragrance using an analysis tool (probably a mass spectrometer or something similar, I'm not a chemist) and then having the exact composition aka the recipe.
Now, the goal is to create as exact a replica of the original creation as possible with the "original" recipe while eliminating any potential performance weaknesses. Should be doable, right?
For Bois Oudh, the classic and beautiful scent Oud Wood clearly served as a model.
So, has DUA succeeded in this illusion? - Sort of. Only with trick 17!
Because, although DUA has the exact composition, I believe there are subtle differences concerning the choice of raw materials. It should be noted that Tom Ford is also not particularly known for using the finest raw materials, but rather for creations that often balance on the fine line of provocation.
But back to DUA: What is the most important discipline of a magician? Right - distraction!
And DUA does this well, using power to distract. This fragrance starts off incredibly potent, filling the entire room, even the whole floor. This certainly makes an impression and suggests quality, but with an extrait, you expect that too, right? In my opinion, however, the nose is overwhelmed early on, to such an extent that the fine nuances, the qualitative differences, become hardly recognizable over time. It's a bit like overly spicy food! (Sriracha, for example, also helps with bad university cafeteria food!)
No question - Bois Oudh smells very much like Oud Wood, especially in the sillage. But does it smell just as elegant, so fine, so perfectly woven and coordinated? No, not at all!!!
For me, Bois Oudh also comes across, independent of Oud Wood - as a standalone fragrance - coarse, unrefined, and synthetic. It masks the (inferior) raw materials and overwhelms the noses with a barrage of olfactory impressions. When I smell closely, I always perceive a certain mineral oil note. It smells "cheap" and imperfect. It is loud and potent. A loudmouth, without finesse. Brutal power without fine-tuning. A souped-up tractor, not a Ferrari. But for a layperson and occasional perfume wearer, it is still an experience!
Especially when trying other (clone) creations (e.g., Roja, MFK, Xerjoff) from DUA, this illusion as a sales strategy becomes particularly clear - but that's another topic.
Bois Oudh (and the company DUA) is a bride in combat boots. A wolf in sheep's clothing. An illusionist par excellence. A magician. And a very good one, as I admit I was enchanted for a while.
Is this fragrance supposed to be one of the best 25 fragrances for men? - Nah bruh! U must be trippin!
Noun, masculine [der]
1. someone who possesses magical powers; wizard
2. someone who performs magic tricks, showcases
A magician, also an illusionist or wizard, is an artist of the performing art of magic.
"The art of magic (also known as conjuring and sorcery) describes a form of performing art that understands how to evoke illusions in the minds of viewers and feelings in the hearts of people through artistic communication (verbal and non-verbal) and by using various techniques and methods. The performance is not bound to any specific location or situation. The more willing the viewer is to be enchanted, the greater the illusion can become in their imagination." - Wikipedia
Welcome dear Parfumas and Parfumos, I am the great Duadini and will take you on a journey into a world full of illusions...
Friends, friends, friends - of course, I am not the great Duadini, I am Manuel Neuer.
But jokes aside... Why the long intro? I would like to address a topic that has been on my mind for a long time. Namely, how Dua manages to create the illusion of a good fragrance.
As should be known by now, Dua primarily copies fragrances from well-known niche and designer brands. Especially through what is called reverse engineering.
"Reverse engineering (English; German: umgekehrt entwickeln, rekonstruieren, abbreviation: RE; also Nachkonstruktion) refers to the process of extracting the construction elements from an existing finished system or a product that is mostly industrially manufactured by examining the structures, states, and behaviors. Thus, a plan is created again from the finished object." - Wikipedia
This is done by hunting down the fragrance using an analysis tool (probably a mass spectrometer or something similar, I'm not a chemist) and then having the exact composition aka the recipe.
Now, the goal is to create as exact a replica of the original creation as possible with the "original" recipe while eliminating any potential performance weaknesses. Should be doable, right?
For Bois Oudh, the classic and beautiful scent Oud Wood clearly served as a model.
So, has DUA succeeded in this illusion? - Sort of. Only with trick 17!
Because, although DUA has the exact composition, I believe there are subtle differences concerning the choice of raw materials. It should be noted that Tom Ford is also not particularly known for using the finest raw materials, but rather for creations that often balance on the fine line of provocation.
But back to DUA: What is the most important discipline of a magician? Right - distraction!
And DUA does this well, using power to distract. This fragrance starts off incredibly potent, filling the entire room, even the whole floor. This certainly makes an impression and suggests quality, but with an extrait, you expect that too, right? In my opinion, however, the nose is overwhelmed early on, to such an extent that the fine nuances, the qualitative differences, become hardly recognizable over time. It's a bit like overly spicy food! (Sriracha, for example, also helps with bad university cafeteria food!)
No question - Bois Oudh smells very much like Oud Wood, especially in the sillage. But does it smell just as elegant, so fine, so perfectly woven and coordinated? No, not at all!!!
For me, Bois Oudh also comes across, independent of Oud Wood - as a standalone fragrance - coarse, unrefined, and synthetic. It masks the (inferior) raw materials and overwhelms the noses with a barrage of olfactory impressions. When I smell closely, I always perceive a certain mineral oil note. It smells "cheap" and imperfect. It is loud and potent. A loudmouth, without finesse. Brutal power without fine-tuning. A souped-up tractor, not a Ferrari. But for a layperson and occasional perfume wearer, it is still an experience!
Especially when trying other (clone) creations (e.g., Roja, MFK, Xerjoff) from DUA, this illusion as a sales strategy becomes particularly clear - but that's another topic.
Bois Oudh (and the company DUA) is a bride in combat boots. A wolf in sheep's clothing. An illusionist par excellence. A magician. And a very good one, as I admit I was enchanted for a while.
Is this fragrance supposed to be one of the best 25 fragrances for men? - Nah bruh! U must be trippin!
11 Comments
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The Boxers Through the Window
Gucci Guilty Absolute is one of the most polarizing designer fragrances I know!
Moreover, it is also a strikingly atypical creation by Mr. Morillas, who, besides doing commissioned work for anyone who pays enough and wants to sell a mass-pleaser scent, is known as THE man for freshies and timeless classics like Acqua di Gio, Light Blue pH, and *ahem* Office.
It surprised me even more that such an uncompromising fragrance was created under his guidance. Because GGA is straightforward and direct, no flattering opening that gradually leads you to the harsh leather. Not particularly complex or with great development (which is typical for Morillas), but that’s exactly what makes it so interesting to me. A look at the notes gives a rough idea of where it’s headed. Vetiver, patchouli, cypress, wood leather, and golden wood - So leathery, woody, earthy. Check. This scent is pure and freshly tanned woody leather to spray on. Nothing more, nothing less.
When I smell the fragrance, I inevitably associate it with old leather and wood, strangely not in a bad way like the old wooden box lined with leather in grandma's decaying or dusty attic. Images of a rocker or some other stereotypical bad guy come to mind, who is forced by his wife to maintain his monthly personal hygiene. Sharpening his razor on leather, polishing his shoes on a solid wood table, and drinking Jacky straight from the bottle. This esteemed gentleman probably wears this fragrance, even if he doesn’t smell similar by nature.
For me personally, the scent is mostly unbearable, and I have only received negative comments so far - yet I still quite like it at times, because sometimes, but only sometimes, men like me deserve a bit of leather, uh, gladly… or something?!
This is a good fragrance for men who want to stand out, whether positively or negatively should not matter to them. For men who want to provoke or impregnate their leather jackets. For the men who, after two bottles of Jacky, will box anyone who gives them a hard time through the window. Uncompromising tough guys indeed.
Moreover, it is also a strikingly atypical creation by Mr. Morillas, who, besides doing commissioned work for anyone who pays enough and wants to sell a mass-pleaser scent, is known as THE man for freshies and timeless classics like Acqua di Gio, Light Blue pH, and *ahem* Office.
It surprised me even more that such an uncompromising fragrance was created under his guidance. Because GGA is straightforward and direct, no flattering opening that gradually leads you to the harsh leather. Not particularly complex or with great development (which is typical for Morillas), but that’s exactly what makes it so interesting to me. A look at the notes gives a rough idea of where it’s headed. Vetiver, patchouli, cypress, wood leather, and golden wood - So leathery, woody, earthy. Check. This scent is pure and freshly tanned woody leather to spray on. Nothing more, nothing less.
When I smell the fragrance, I inevitably associate it with old leather and wood, strangely not in a bad way like the old wooden box lined with leather in grandma's decaying or dusty attic. Images of a rocker or some other stereotypical bad guy come to mind, who is forced by his wife to maintain his monthly personal hygiene. Sharpening his razor on leather, polishing his shoes on a solid wood table, and drinking Jacky straight from the bottle. This esteemed gentleman probably wears this fragrance, even if he doesn’t smell similar by nature.
For me personally, the scent is mostly unbearable, and I have only received negative comments so far - yet I still quite like it at times, because sometimes, but only sometimes, men like me deserve a bit of leather, uh, gladly… or something?!
This is a good fragrance for men who want to stand out, whether positively or negatively should not matter to them. For men who want to provoke or impregnate their leather jackets. For the men who, after two bottles of Jacky, will box anyone who gives them a hard time through the window. Uncompromising tough guys indeed.
10 Comments
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Generation Shisha
Herod, is it really the best fragrance for men? - mhhhh NÄÄÄÄ!
Admittedly, liking or disliking is always a very subjective matter, which is why there are fortunately diverse opinions and discussions about fragrances here. Therefore, I can certainly understand why this fragrance appeals to many people.
Point 1: It is easy to understand.
Herod is by no means a complexity monster; it is accessible and, depending on the weather, even has a certain cuddly factor for some. Although it loses some sweetness over time, for me, that unbearable cherry-tobacco shisha note remains consistently present.
Point 2: It stands out.
Herod (at least the old version, as I heard) has a decent to very good sillage and more endurance than Haile Gebrselassie. Due to this penetrating and lasting sweetness, it usually stands out. You definitely distinguish yourself well from the crowd of Sauvage, LeMale, and Eros-wearing teenagers. And it leaves a lasting impression even when you leave the room!
Point 3: It captures the zeitgeist.
In times when a shisha bar pops up every 20 meters in city centers and you can hardly walk through pedestrian zones without getting diabetes; influencers, Snapchat filters, and autotune-heavy music promoting and celebrating an artificial bubblegum society - an incredibly sweet (for me, synthetic) shisha fragrance fits perfectly into the contemporary taste of the masses.
Point 4: The luxury plus point.
I have the feeling that brand affinity and brand-related identity have increased lately. It's no longer enough to wear a €20 Cool Water or a €50 LeMale - today's F*ckboy is a big spender. And for him, a €200 fragrance is just about right... And who doesn't know it? The included self-confidence when wearing an expensive fragrance? Still, expensive is not always good - just a side note ;)
In conclusion, I can only wrap it up as follows:
I found Herod quite good at the beginning of my perfume journey and almost bought it, but over time it just got on my nerves. I'm simply not a fan of overly sweet fragrances, and cherry in fragrances feels a bit too feminine to me; I always feel like I have cherry jam stuck in my beard.
My decant is almost empty. And that's a good thing!
Admittedly, liking or disliking is always a very subjective matter, which is why there are fortunately diverse opinions and discussions about fragrances here. Therefore, I can certainly understand why this fragrance appeals to many people.
Point 1: It is easy to understand.
Herod is by no means a complexity monster; it is accessible and, depending on the weather, even has a certain cuddly factor for some. Although it loses some sweetness over time, for me, that unbearable cherry-tobacco shisha note remains consistently present.
Point 2: It stands out.
Herod (at least the old version, as I heard) has a decent to very good sillage and more endurance than Haile Gebrselassie. Due to this penetrating and lasting sweetness, it usually stands out. You definitely distinguish yourself well from the crowd of Sauvage, LeMale, and Eros-wearing teenagers. And it leaves a lasting impression even when you leave the room!
Point 3: It captures the zeitgeist.
In times when a shisha bar pops up every 20 meters in city centers and you can hardly walk through pedestrian zones without getting diabetes; influencers, Snapchat filters, and autotune-heavy music promoting and celebrating an artificial bubblegum society - an incredibly sweet (for me, synthetic) shisha fragrance fits perfectly into the contemporary taste of the masses.
Point 4: The luxury plus point.
I have the feeling that brand affinity and brand-related identity have increased lately. It's no longer enough to wear a €20 Cool Water or a €50 LeMale - today's F*ckboy is a big spender. And for him, a €200 fragrance is just about right... And who doesn't know it? The included self-confidence when wearing an expensive fragrance? Still, expensive is not always good - just a side note ;)
In conclusion, I can only wrap it up as follows:
I found Herod quite good at the beginning of my perfume journey and almost bought it, but over time it just got on my nerves. I'm simply not a fan of overly sweet fragrances, and cherry in fragrances feels a bit too feminine to me; I always feel like I have cherry jam stuck in my beard.
My decant is almost empty. And that's a good thing!
11 Comments
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The Rose for Life
Like many of the most beautiful moments in life, this story also begins with a mistake, retrospectively one of the best mistakes I could have made...
But now a little context: In early summer 2020, bored by the monotony caused by the c*r*n*a, I blindly bought a niche aquatic fragrance that was recommended to me by a few YouTubers, and the reviews here sounded at least interesting. The offer was good, what could go wrong, I thought - so I ordered it right away. After a short test - the disillusionment - No thanks! Off to the souk with it... where I was able to exchange the fragrance after some time with a very nice Swiss perfumista. That was my first swap, and it was for a fragrance I also didn't know - Lumiere Noire. I really like rose, and at that time YSL L'Homme Ultime was one of my favorites. My friends also told me: "Brother, buy it, Baba scent!" - said and done! I had no idea that this would become one of the most defining experiences of my olfactory journey.
About two weeks later, the moment arrived - the swap package arrived - I unpacked it with great anticipation and sprayed it directly on my wrist. And then came the revelation... WOW! What a fragrance - I was thrilled! I couldn't stop smelling my wrist throughout the day, even though I was initially unsure whether the prominent rose might be too feminine or too soapy. The next day, it was immediately my daytime scent, and I felt incredibly comfortable. The worries, the stress, all of it bounced off me; this fragrance enveloped me like a shield, a shield against negativity. And it wrapped me in a feel-good aura.
For me, Lumiere Noire is not an "attention grabber," but a fresh, soapy, and understated fragrance, subtly elegant and distinguished - for the modern gentlemen! And indeed, one for the gentlemen among us who exude their charm with a witty remark and/or a mischievous grin.
Admittedly, it is quite linear, showing no major transformation, yet it is still quite complex - throughout, one perceives the beautiful soapy-fresh Bulgarian rose. The patchouli-heavy base and the incredibly well-integrated herbal/spice notes give the whole thing an earthy, bitter antagonist that wonderfully complements the rose and makes it appear quite masculine overall!
I must honestly say that I find it really difficult to analyze Lumiere Noire and describe it in detail, as it is so incredibly fine and "polished" - so exceptionally well composed, that its overall harmony makes it hard to dissect it into its olfactory components.
Lumiere Noire is for me personally much more a feeling than "just" a fragrance.
When I smell the bottle, I get goosebumps. When I spray it on and wear it, I feel fresh, confident, sexy, and elegant - yes, I feel really good in my skin. I not only love this fragrance, but when I wear it, I also love myself a little more than usual.
Lumiere Noire slows down my everyday life. Lumiere Noire is my olfactory happy place.
Sometimes I think that all of this was predestined - the wrong purchase - the first swap - and then this fragrance. One might think it's a twist of fate. Perhaps also a hint that mistakes (or wrong purchases) are not always bad and that courage (to swap for unknown fragrances) can sometimes pay off.
I already dread the day when I will smell Lumiere Noire for the last time... until then, I enjoy every spray.
But now a little context: In early summer 2020, bored by the monotony caused by the c*r*n*a, I blindly bought a niche aquatic fragrance that was recommended to me by a few YouTubers, and the reviews here sounded at least interesting. The offer was good, what could go wrong, I thought - so I ordered it right away. After a short test - the disillusionment - No thanks! Off to the souk with it... where I was able to exchange the fragrance after some time with a very nice Swiss perfumista. That was my first swap, and it was for a fragrance I also didn't know - Lumiere Noire. I really like rose, and at that time YSL L'Homme Ultime was one of my favorites. My friends also told me: "Brother, buy it, Baba scent!" - said and done! I had no idea that this would become one of the most defining experiences of my olfactory journey.
About two weeks later, the moment arrived - the swap package arrived - I unpacked it with great anticipation and sprayed it directly on my wrist. And then came the revelation... WOW! What a fragrance - I was thrilled! I couldn't stop smelling my wrist throughout the day, even though I was initially unsure whether the prominent rose might be too feminine or too soapy. The next day, it was immediately my daytime scent, and I felt incredibly comfortable. The worries, the stress, all of it bounced off me; this fragrance enveloped me like a shield, a shield against negativity. And it wrapped me in a feel-good aura.
For me, Lumiere Noire is not an "attention grabber," but a fresh, soapy, and understated fragrance, subtly elegant and distinguished - for the modern gentlemen! And indeed, one for the gentlemen among us who exude their charm with a witty remark and/or a mischievous grin.
Admittedly, it is quite linear, showing no major transformation, yet it is still quite complex - throughout, one perceives the beautiful soapy-fresh Bulgarian rose. The patchouli-heavy base and the incredibly well-integrated herbal/spice notes give the whole thing an earthy, bitter antagonist that wonderfully complements the rose and makes it appear quite masculine overall!
I must honestly say that I find it really difficult to analyze Lumiere Noire and describe it in detail, as it is so incredibly fine and "polished" - so exceptionally well composed, that its overall harmony makes it hard to dissect it into its olfactory components.
Lumiere Noire is for me personally much more a feeling than "just" a fragrance.
When I smell the bottle, I get goosebumps. When I spray it on and wear it, I feel fresh, confident, sexy, and elegant - yes, I feel really good in my skin. I not only love this fragrance, but when I wear it, I also love myself a little more than usual.
Lumiere Noire slows down my everyday life. Lumiere Noire is my olfactory happy place.
Sometimes I think that all of this was predestined - the wrong purchase - the first swap - and then this fragrance. One might think it's a twist of fate. Perhaps also a hint that mistakes (or wrong purchases) are not always bad and that courage (to swap for unknown fragrances) can sometimes pay off.
I already dread the day when I will smell Lumiere Noire for the last time... until then, I enjoy every spray.
2 Comments
