Oldfactive

No brand has shaped the term "niche" in the perfume world as strongly as Creed from England. Since 1760 (according to their advertising), fragrances have been crafted here. However, if you look closely behind the facade and examine the scents a bit more closely, something becomes apparent that you might not have thought possible.

Contrary to popular opinion on the internet, Aventus is not the best Creed fragrance in their lineup for me. It's also not Viking, Royal Oud, GIT, or VIW. My vote clearly goes to Himalaya. A fragrance launched by Creed in 2002, it represents a wonderfully cool-fresh addition to their portfolio at that time.

Himalaya starts with a powerful burst of herbaceous-citrus notes and the already mentioned "cool air." Thematically, everything has been done right here. With Himalaya, I associate the cuttingly cool mountain air that blows around your nose at that altitude. Olivier Creed has perfectly captured this feeling. In the top note, lemon and bergamot clearly dominate for me, which gradually fade away, making way for the base notes. Here, the typical Creed musk DNA is already noticeable in the base note. Pepper and nutmeg harmonize wonderfully and, in sum, complement the woody notes in the form of cedar and sandalwood. The sandalwood here has no lactonic qualities; rather, it rounds off the formula with a slight underlying creaminess. In the dry down, the already announced musk DNA from Creed sets in, which has become the trademark of the manufacturer. The fragrance gains a bit of sweetness from the tonka bean as well as the amber (there is still debate among Creed enthusiasts whether real ambergris is actually included in Creed fragrances), which contributes something mineral as a counterpoint to the sweetness.

Unfortunately, the air up there quickly becomes thin, and the longevity diminishes by the minute. After just over 4 hours, I can only perceive the fragrance very faintly. Here, I expect a bit more performance from a fragrance in this price range.

At the beginning, I mentioned the topic of originality. Those who believe that Creed exclusively designs its own fragrance creations and always shines with originality must be disappointed. Creed has a reputation in the industry for repeatedly being "inspired" by existing creations. The best examples are:

- Original Vetiver (released in 2004 and "inspired" by the 2001 release Mugler Cologne)
- Original Santal (released in 2005 and "inspired" by the 2003 release Individuel Eau de Toilette)
- Himalaya (released in 2002 and "inspired" by the 1994 release "XS pour Homme (Eau de Toilette) | Paco Rabanne")

I find the first two fragrances with the name addition "Original" to be downright cheeky regarding the naming. Both fragrances are certainly many things, but not originals in terms of scent DNA. Even the venerable perfume house Creed is not immune to "plagiarism."

Today, a slightly different review or rather a warning. If you want to skip the rest of the text and get straight to the conclusion, I'll gladly spare you the effort of scrolling. This Marbert is not an alternative to Bogner Man Classic and is otherwise not a good scent. If you want to know why that is, feel free to read on.

I really like the Bogner Man Classic. Unfortunately, it is unjustly rated too poorly here. If I had to concoct a discreet and pleasant office scent in the style of a fougère, it would almost certainly be the Bogner Man Classic. For some, it may be a bit characterless, but I find such a scent quite appropriate in the right environment. This is the kind of fragrance you wear when you know that the person opposite is sensitive to scents. It simply doesn't clash, yet still smells good and understated.

Now, I personally don't know if the other reviewers here were able to make a direct comparison to the Bogner Man Classic or if these comparisons were merely based on olfactory memory. And I really don't want to criticize the gentlemen here, but unfortunately, they are wrong.
I still have an intact and almost full bottle of Bogner Man Classic, so I was able to make a direct comparison to the Marbert. In the opening, both scents are admittedly relatively similar. However, the Marbert has a disturbing citrus note that reminds me a bit of lemon soda powder. In its form, it is also very synthetic and exaggerated. In the opening, I could understand the comparisons, even though the Bogner smells much rounder and better formulated here. The problem with the Marbert arises immediately after the opening when the drydown begins. From this point on, the scents go in a completely different direction. In recent years, I have hardly smelled a fragrance (regardless of price range) that smelled so chemical or synthetic. What many of the previous speakers here describe as "herb," "distinct," or "masculine" is, in my opinion, simply "scratchy." Because that’s exactly how the Marbert smells. Absolutely scratchy and almost piercing in the nose. I have the feeling that I can smell each of the individual molecules of the chemical compounds rubbing against each other. This is simply a poorly formulated scent that really shouldn't be out there in this composition. While the Bogner Man Classic smells like fresh shaving foam, I can honestly only smell a stale and almost rancid old soap in the Marbert.

Longevity is okay for the price. It will certainly also be related to the almost exclusively chemical composition of the scent. The bottle is also good, with a sprayer at a solid level.

Anyone looking for a successor to the Bogner Man Classic should please steer clear of the Marbert. I dislike writing negative reviews, but in this case, it is unfortunately necessary as a warning. The Marbert Man Classic Steel Blue is not a good scent and certainly not a successor/alternative or replacement for the Bogner Man Classic.

Anyone who knows me a bit is surely aware that I love Drakkar Noir by Guy Laroche. It was one of the first fragrances that I truly perceived olfactorily in my life. I associate many memories from my childhood with this scent. My father smelled of this fragrance at the breakfast table on weekends. These are olfactory memories that I will never forget.

And while I love the smell of Drakkar Noir, I have increasingly been annoyed over the years by its now terrible longevity. I can hardly think of a reformulation that has stripped a fragrance of its character so drastically.

Currently, I would say that a 4711 refreshing wipe that I apply to my skin lasts longer than the current formulation of Drakkar Noir.

The dilution of the current Kouros comes very close to this. So what does one do when one has embraced a fragrance so dearly but simply cannot come to terms with the fact that it lasts no more than 2-3 hours? One looks for alternatives. For a while, there was "Lomani pour Homme | Lomani," which smells similar but also lacks good longevity. So that was relatively quickly crossed off the list. However, through a comment on Parfumo, I stumbled upon Dakar by Al Rehab.

First, I have to tip my hat to Al Rehab. They didn’t skimp on the name here. What a stroke of genius in naming. Drakkar Noir simply becomes Dakar. Sometimes it’s just that close.

The bottle is not a sight for sore eyes. However, the sprayer is excellent. Someone needs to explain to me how these budget brands (not meant disrespectfully) manage to install sprayers of this quality, while my Tiziana Terenzi bottle of Foconero just drips out the liquid. A disgrace for the niche market.

A look at the fragrance pyramid initially shocked me. So this is supposed to be a 1:1 replica of my beloved Drakkar Noir? Oud in it? Where is the lavender? Where is the oakmoss? Is Guido Cantz going to pop around the corner? Alarmingly, though, Dakar actually smells almost 1:1 like the former Drakkar Noir. Therefore, a brief excursion on the topic of 1:1 copies, dupes, clones. Call them what you will.

I am generally not a fan of dupes/clones in the fragrance area. However, there are two exceptions for me. One is discontinued fragrances that I can no longer obtain at "reasonable" prices. In such cases, I gladly reach for the dupe when needed. Then there’s the category where well-known and older fragrances have been outrageously castrated or completely diluted over the years. Fragrances that one has come to love over the years and that cause immense frustration when they no longer smell like they used to.

If you want to know how Dakar smells, then read the reviews for Drakkar Noir and simply add 6-7 hours to the longevity. Because that’s where the rub is. While the current Drakkar Noir runs out of steam after 2 to a maximum of 3 hours, Dakar comfortably performs for another 6-7 hours. You can easily get through a full workday with this fragrance.

The price is still missing. There’s no nasty surprise here either. You can get Dakar for 50ml starting at €13. So here too, it’s an affordable alternative to the original. An original bottle of Drakkar Noir will always remain in my collection for sentimental reasons. But for those who want to smell this fragrance DNA today, they should only reach for Dakar in the future and steer clear of the diluted muck that calls itself Drakkar Noir.

When Oud stands completely on its own, it can literally overwhelm you. Oud Velvet Mood is such a candidate and probably also the reason why MFK has removed these two strongly monothematic ouds (Oud Velvet Mood and Oud Cashmere Mood) from their range.

The masses do not want to be challenged. It has to be easy to wear, compliments need to come in rapid succession from left and right, and panties should fall straight to the ground. In fact, the fact that a niche house had to discontinue this type of fragrance, which oozes "niche" from every pore of its DNA, is a testament to the poverty of the niche sector. You can't please everyone. If something is obviously too mainstream or designer, out come the pitchforks, and everything and everyone is demonized. But when a house comes around with a real "niche hit," like MFK with its two discontinued oud fragrances, the outcry is just as strong, and people can't understand it. "Who wants to smell like that?" they exclaim.

Moreover, there isn't even a packaging deception here, as is often the case. What is written on the bottle is what the buyer gets. Oud. And in one of its darkest, deepest, and heaviest forms.

Oud Velvet Mood starts off with a big dose of oud. If there isn't a single drop of real oud in here, I tip my hat to Mr. Kurkdjian, because this accord is simply an absolute stroke of genius. Those who know oud understand that it can take on pretty much any olfactory form. Here, however, we have a "simply constructed" oud with a focus on the smoky. A deep blackness envelops everything with the first spray. I imagine an ancient factory hall. The lights have been off for decades. Sparse light can barely illuminate the corridors through broken windows. Deep within, there are still machines. The smell of old oil lingers in the air, as if these machines had just come to a standstill a few minutes ago. This is how Oud Velvet Mood smells at the beginning. Like an old, oil-stained machine in a factory ruin. One could also compare this medicinal scent to absolutely black shoe polish. As we progress, we learn that this old factory was a tannery. The smell of old, worn leather now resonates in the air. Somewhere deep inside a machine, we can still see an oil-soaked leather scrap. In the furthest rooms, a last hint of smoke lingers, and we now realize that this factory fell victim to a fire many years ago.

Oud Velvet Mood is exactly what one must imagine from a smoky oud fragrance. Absolutely black at the start, a robust leather emerges over time, rounded off and refined at the very end with the slightest hint of sweetness.

The longevity is excellent. Oud Velvet Mood can be perceived in the surroundings for over 12 hours.

The Dehn el Oud Mubarak and its brother, Dehn el Ood Shaheen, offer the interested Oud enthusiast a wonderful insight into the world of Oud scent without putting too much strain on the wallet. I personally preferred the Dehn el Oud Mubarak, so we will focus on this one here.

Oud as an ingredient is always a tricky subject. Few fragrance ingredients are as controversial as agarwood. From "Is there real Oud in here?" to "How much Oud is actually in this?" to "Oud can't possibly smell like this," all reactions are possible. My personal standpoint is a bit simpler and more rudimentary. It has to smell authentic to me. I don't care if the Oud is created through a blend of other ingredients and thus isn't "pure Oud." However, what is ultimately unavoidable is a personal benchmark for this scent. The nose needs to know how Oud can actually smell. And since there are already so many different interpretations, a little overview can’t hurt.

I would categorize the Dehn el Oud Mubarak as "deep balsamic woody." It starts off with a wonderfully dark, slightly balsamic wood note. Personally, it reminds me at times of shoe polish or furniture polish. There’s also a slight medicinal aspect to it. The concept of depth in fragrances is always relatively hard to define. I also imagine something complex when thinking of depth. For example, if you look into a room and can already see the end or the wall opposite, then that, for me, is the opposite of depth. But if I can't gauge how far the room extends inward, then I understand that as depth. And it’s the same for me with fragrances. If I can’t dissect something on the first sniff, but can already sense or smell notes in the background that only fully unfold over the course of the fragrance, then I perceive that as depth or complexity. Alongside this slightly medicinal wood note, a hint of leather gradually emerges. The Oud here olfactorily reflects its physical presence. Absolutely viscous, dark, and captivating. Towards the end, the fragrance gains a bit of sweetness, applied only minimally and adding small accents.

The Dehn el Oud Mubarak somewhat reminds me of the Oud Cashmere Mood from MFK. Deep balsamic, dark, and with this wonderfully warm wood aura. This is definitely how Oud can smell.

The small 6ml glass bottle looks elegant and valuable with its cut facets. Here, you get a completely coherent overall package for just under €40.

One thing we must be clear about is that this will certainly not contain the highest quality, best, or "most beautiful" Oud. That is simply not feasible at this price. But it doesn’t have to be. I see these 2 perfume oils from Swiss Arabian as a benchmark for how Oud can smell. And for me, it’s secondary whether the Oud here is "completely pure." A benchmark doesn’t always have to represent the upper limit. It serves as a guideline for future comparisons with other "Oud fragrances" and trains the nose in terms of how real Oud can smell. And for this fair price, it’s a great alternative for beginners.