Oldfactive

Mancera and Montale had been on my blacklist for quite a while. After numerous samples from both brands, I eventually came to the conclusion that Pierre Montale is not a good perfumer. I only got rid of this impression through Mancera's Aoud Café.

Mancera and Montale fragrances are known for one thing: synthetics. While this does come with above-average longevity, I have never really warmed up to this type of perfumery. When used correctly, synthetics can give fragrances the missing finesse. However, with Mr. Montale's creations, it always seemed to me that the synthetics were not an embellishment but rather the main component of the fragrances.

In search of a coffee scent, I stumbled upon the Mancera brand again and made another attempt. And lo and behold, Mr. Montale can indeed create something. And in this case, quite a bit.

Aoud Café starts on my skin relatively bitter, herbaceous, and directly in the background with the typical "Montale Oud" DNA, which one must like. I would argue that Pierre Montale cannot create a realistic oud accord. Compared to real oud oils or fragrances that perfectly evoke oud through accords, Pierre Montale's oud always seems very exaggerated and almost cartoonish. So we do not have an authentically smelling oud here, which is also not to be expected given the pricing. However, it can be identified as oud. In the opening, we have alongside a rather dark, roasted coffee note the medicinal oud, which at times reminds me of shoe polish or furniture polish. What always bothers me about many coffee fragrances is the way they try to put coffee in the spotlight. Often, 5 or 6 spoons too much sugar are used, and we end up in Starbucks, where someone wants to write my name on a cup for a way too sweet coffee. Am I the only one who always thinks up different names for myself in this situation? The difference between these coffee fragrances compared to Aoud Café is that the latter finds a pleasant compromise of sweetness, roasted aromas, and a tendency towards a darker roast. By the way, you can safely ignore the bergamot in the top note. I personally cannot perceive it. The same goes for the peach. However, what I do perceive in the form of a certain dustiness in the background is the black currant. It complements the medicinal oud accord nicely. There is no real scent progression in Aoud Café. The fragrance starts as it ends after just over 8 hours. Towards the end, the oud pulls back a bit, and the scent ends creamier than it began.

The bottle is typical Mancera standard. In my case, it still has a screw cap and a rather low-quality sprayer. The new bottles with magnetic closure and pressure-sensitive sprayers are a clear upgrade.

If there were as many coffee fragrances as there are rose+oud fragrances, my heart would skip a beat with joy. Unfortunately, that is not the case. Therefore, Aoud Café is so far the most convincing candidate in the field of coffee fragrances for me, as it does not focus on an overly sweet coffee. In my previous comparisons, for example, Rochas Man, Kerosene's Follow, or Mugler's Pure Coffee did not make the cut. Only the SM Café by Prin Lomros managed to score with a nice, dark coffee note. However, this was buried under a completely tipsy cherry note (Mon Cheri) and therefore could not really unfold.

Some fragrances are a slap in the face. Not because they smell bad, different, or striking. But because one is annoyed by the sheer existence of a fragrance. In this case, we need to go back in time.

The Lumiere Noire Homme by MFK is, in my (and many others') eyes, one of, if not the most beautiful rose fragrances a man can wear. Here, the rose is presented so wonderfully and stylishly with bitter supporting characters (patchouli, spices) that this combination simply results in a dreamily beautiful symbiosis. Everything interlocks, connects, and ultimately creates a bitter-spicy rose scent that lives up to its name. And then you take this fragrance, which is loved and revered by the community, and you discontinue it. And if that weren't bad enough, you try to come up with hypocritical excuses when the community inquires (the perfumer wants to reinvent himself).

But what you then do is the aforementioned slap in the face. You release a new rose fragrance that also targets a male audience. Enter L'Homme À la Rose.

The L'Homme À la Rose doesn't require many words. And for some, this may sound harsh, aggressive, or even offensive. But we simply have the worst rose fragrance of the last few years here. If MFK had marketed this scent as a "cucumber scent," they would have done everything right. Because that is exactly what it is. An absolute dud in the portfolio of an otherwise quite stylish brand. L'Homme À la Rose feels like a debut work of a beginner in their first semester. A test tube accident. A scent that cannot be surpassed in its banality and interchangeability, offering us a shallow, pale rose water with a hint of soapiness. If Francis Kurkdjian's goal was to create the exact opposite of Lumiere Noire Homme, then I bow to this achievement. The fragrance lacks all that made Lumiere Noire Homme what it is. There is no profile here, no edges or corners. Everything feels overly smoothed out and devoid of any depth.

And the worst part is that one wouldn't be so harsh on L'Homme À la Rose if one didn't know that this fragrance was literally sacrificed for Lumiere Noire Homme. If both fragrances were in MFK's portfolio, then this wouldn't be a problem at all. Men who are aware that they are men would reach for Lumiere Noire Homme. Real guys with quirks and profiles. And L'Homme À la Rose would attract those men who prefer things shallow, trivial, and interchangeable. But as it stands, MFK leaves us with only one rose fragrance for "men," to which I simply do not want to belong with this scent.

Some fragrances are a slap in the face. And then there is L'Homme À la Rose. I will never forgive you for this, Kurkdjian.

We start today quite dramatically. 600€ for a fragrance. Some people buy a used car or go on vacation for that amount. Can a scent be worth that, especially one that is clearly inspired by a more affordable alternative like Knize Ten? I think we’ll find out together today.

Xerjoff as a brand is now known to everyone. No other brand has established itself in the high-priced niche market in recent years like this Italian label. They aim to impress with exclusive and luxurious fragrances, high-quality crafted bottles, and prestige.

In various collections (Shooting Stars, Oud Stars, Stonelabel, etc.), they offer a suitable fragrance for every taste and budget. While Alexandria II captivated me with its soft and warm aura, the rest of Xerjoff's portfolio has not yet knocked my socks off. Many of the scents I tested seemed either too sweet, too playful, or simply too insignificant. However, one fragrance that I had always had on my watchlist was the Homme.

So, when I was in Berlin two weeks ago and visited the perfume salon near Kurfürstendamm, I took the opportunity to try the Homme. That day, I left the store with only an Etruscan Water and Bowmakers, but the decision to purchase the Homme was firm.

Disclaimer. This fragrance was kindly provided to me by absolutely NOBODY. Why this note? Currently, I feel on YouTube that everyone is either giving away a Naxos or 10 bottles of Erba Pura, and the name Xerjoff, as well as that of the German distributor, comes up in every second sentence. I, poor soul, had to buy the fragrance myself and spend my own hard-earned money on it. In any case, there is no one behind me with 2 boxes of Xerjoff bottles that can be raffled off, which would certainly unconsciously influence some perceptions of fragrances.

The Homme was created in 2007 and comes from the creative mind of Jacques Flori, who was responsible for many of the fragrances in the Shooting Stars line and also created several scents for Etro.
The Homme starts on my skin with a herbaceous, fresh opening featuring a hefty dose of bitter-herbaceous citrus notes. I would describe the lemon and ginger as dominant in this opening. The cumin complements the fresher notes with a bit of bite, but never drifts into the "sweaty" or musty territory compared to cumin. This freshness kick doesn’t last long, and then the dominant component of the Homme takes over. The leather. Here, it’s a very clean, not worn leather that still has sharp contours and feels absolutely authentic. Not in the form of, for example, an old horse saddle but rather like a really expensive leather sofa or the interior of a classic car. In this phase of the fragrance, there’s another note that absolutely fascinates me and defines the allure of the Homme. We have here an almost viscous note that reminds me of motor oil. As if you were standing in a car workshop where a sports car is currently on the lift. From afar, you can smell the scent of the drained oil. Heavy, black, and at times reminiscent of petroleum. Anyone familiar with Comme des Garcons' Garage will find a similar "workshop" DNA here. However, the one from Homme is even more authentic and feels rougher and coarser. In the later drydown, the leather is accompanied by a soapy component. The dirt of the workshop is thus also "cleaned" olfactorily, and the leather is somewhat tamed. The scent then remains like this until the end. An absolutely high-quality and soap-washed leather that still has edges and corners but has left behind the weight and dirt of the initial phase.

The longevity of the Homme leaves nothing to be desired. For the first 3 hours, the fragrance radiates quite strongly and potently from the skin and only then becomes a bit quieter and starts to become more intimate. I was still able to perceive the scent effortlessly after 10 hours.

The bottle is at typical Xerjoff level. Very high-quality and pleasant to hold. Here, like all fragrances from the Stonelabel collection, with a stone on the front. The sprayer is of the usual and very good Xerjoff quality. Fine dosing is possible, and even "half" sprays are achievable.

Xerjoff also does not skimp on the packaging. You always feel like you are holding a luxury product in your hands.

The price of 600€ is a statement. At 6€/ml, my friendship ends. Currently, you can get the fragrance in the 50ml variant for about 320€. I paid just under 440€ for my 100ml bottle. I consider Xerjoff's MSRP to be excessively inflated. But even a Rolex for 8000€ is grossly overpriced. We are in the high-priced segment where the price/performance ratio actually no longer plays a role. If you want the fragrance, you have to dig deep into your pockets. Whether that is worth it can only be decided by each individual.

An alternative would certainly be the fragrance that inspired the Homme. Knize Ten is relatively similar to the Homme at first glance. Here, too, we have an absolutely distinctive and masculine leather scent that is broken up by soapy aspects. And now comes the same old story. The Xerjoff simply smells of higher quality in terms of composition (and not even referring to the individual components). Everything just feels more harmonious, better integrated, and especially this "workshop phase" of the fragrance with the scent of motor oil or petroleum is missing from Knize Ten. However, if you do not want or cannot afford the budget for the Homme, you can also do well with Knize Ten. The same applies to the Russisch Juchten by Harry Lehmann, which, like Knize Ten, also goes in this direction of soapy leather.

In conclusion, I can say that I have found in the Homme the leather scent I have always secretly sought. As a fan of herbaceous, strongly masculine fragrances, the Homme fulfills all the requirements for a scent for me. The "dirty" motor oil or petroleum note in the middle of the fragrance is, for me as a Fahrenheit fan, the cherry on top.

The Bowmakers is a snapshot for wood-loving fragrance enthusiasts. Here, it oozes and creaks every second. Wood shavings fly around us. Varnishes are applied, leaving noses on the wood. And didn’t someone forget the soldering iron in the wood?

The scent starts with a wonderfully authentic blend of fresh wood shavings and various varnishes. Before my first test, I was concerned that these varnishes could go in a piercing or even biting direction. However, for me, they radiate an incredibly pleasant and calming aura in conjunction with the distinctly noticeable cypress. Anyone who has ever been in a wood workshop and witnessed the construction of a wooden instrument will immediately recognize this scent in the air. While I’m not familiar with violin or bow making, I know how it smells in a luthier's shop that builds guitars. And this kind of snapshot is what the Bowmakers manages to reflect in a truly three-dimensional way. These are the wood shavings that fall to the floor, fine dust that trickles from the saw, and indeed these varnishes in their viscous beauty. I know rosin from my own experience playing guitar. When one "misuses" a violin bow and plays on the guitar strings, the most beautiful distorted tones emerge. This rosin chord made from various resins is wonderfully staged here, realistic and comprehensible. Nothing feels synthetic or artificial. The individual notes blend beautifully together, creating a composition of resins and woods. In the opening, the Bowmakers briefly reminds me of the 46°N 08°E by Richard Lüscher Britos, but then quickly goes in a different direction. As it develops, I then smell something that reminds me of the scent of a soldering iron in wood. As if one were burning or soldering their initials into the wood.

The performance is a double-edged sword for me. During the wearing of my sample, I was not satisfied with the longevity. I could often barely perceive the scent after just 1-2 hours, and there was virtually no projection. However, a bottle has since moved in with me, and it performs significantly better on my skin. The scent is perceptible for 6-7 hours, with a strong projection during the first hour before it pulls back and becomes much more intimate.

The bottle is minimalist, slightly retro in appearance, and has a decent weight. Unfortunately, the sprayer of my sample is not particularly good. It only produces a rather short and small spray. At this price, I simply expect more or a better sprayer.

The Bowmakers quickly captivated me, contrary to my initial assumption. This blend of ethereal aromas from the varnishes paired with the dry wood shavings and woodwork results in a wonderfully authentic fragrance experience for fans of wood and resins.

Zoologist as a brand has not convinced me so far. The niche house, focusing on scents of animals and their environments, has many unique fragrances in its portfolio, but none have been truly wearable until now (see my review of the new Rhinoceros). With the Tyrannosaurus Rex, however, the brand has created an epochal masterpiece in an olfactory sense.

Those who know me know that I like things a bit more extreme. Whether it's smoky, dirty, or particularly leathery. A fragrance must make a statement for me. Personally, it’s not enough to just smell clean and like fresh laundry.

In the opening, we have a piercing smoke note that smells absolutely authentic like a burning campfire. I think the fir and bay leaf, in combination with the pepper, create this impression. Generally, I find it very difficult to distinguish the individual "rock layers" in the Tyrannosaurus Rex. While this bothers me in other fragrances, as they often come across as a mishmash of scent notes, I perceive it in this case as a clever artistic touch. The individual ingredients are so perfectly intertwined that they can be recognized with a lot of patience and a good nose, but with a superficial sniff, one rather gains an overall impression and easily loses track. For example, those who like the smoke from № 03 - Lonestar Memories will almost certainly find their taste here as well.

As the fragrance develops, the smoke recedes somewhat into the background, allowing the heart note to unfold. As can be seen from the fragrance pyramid, this phase of the scent has a floral touch. However, it feels more like all these plants are hanging upside down with their "blooming period" already behind them. This slightly floral-herbaceous phase then gives way to the base DNA of the fragrance made of resins, the still monothematic smoke in the background, and very late towards the end, a minimal hint of sweetness.

Sweetness is an interesting keyword here. So far, I have been bothered by excessive sweetness in many tested Zoologist fragrances. This was the case with Musk Deer (which would have otherwise been very nice), of course with Bee (which perfectly embodies the theme of its fragrance), or even with Snowy Owl (which, in my opinion, completely misses the theme). However, here in the Tyrannosaurus Rex, I am grateful for this minimal sweetness. It takes away some of the raw power of the fragrance in the late drydown and allows it to finish more relaxed.

Later in the development of the fragrance, I get a very strange association. At times, the Tyrannosaurus Rex smells like VICK VapoRub, that ointment you rub on at night when you have a cold or feel like you're getting sick. This association probably comes from the resins in the fragrance. I personally find this phase incredibly pleasant and calming, which may sound somewhat blasphemous given the brutal primal force embodied in this fragrance.

By the way, the longevity sets new standards here. With one spray (I wouldn't recommend more), I easily get 16 hours or even longer. Even after a thorough shower, I could still perceive the basic character of the fragrance the next morning. On clothing, the scent lasts over a week. Therefore, this is not an office fragrance (unless you have a private office) and certainly not a fragrance for dates, and if so, more as a test of endurance. I also don’t see this fragrance on a woman. This is not meant to sound chauvinistic or macho, but I don't know any woman on this planet for whom I could imagine this scent. This is an absolutely brutally masculine fragrance that must be worn by men who are also aware that they are men. What this fragrance radiates must also be radiated by the wearer. Otherwise, it comes off as a disguise.