Oloroso

… calls Pierre Guillaume his Monsieur, and indeed: it is!

Creating a fragrance that consists more or less solely of notes from the woody or mossy-earthy scent family seems, at first glance, quite bold, because as always, it depends on the right balance of the fragrance components and their quality.

Pierre Guillaume, whose creations have so far enchanted me little and whom I had therefore already classified as overrated, certainly does not reinvent the woody fragrance family with this interpretation, but he knows how to skillfully create a composition that is, for me, exceptionally well-balanced. While it appears very simple in its progression, its complexity is achieved through layered and perfectly coordinated fragrance components.

Thus, this Monsieur comes across as noble, elevated, and elegant, but also herbaceous, earthy, spicy, smoky, and a bit rugged. With this, Pierre Guillaume creates a modern interpretation of a gentleman, an update for the 21st century, and a Monsieur who no longer fits the old, somewhat dusty image of a gentleman with gray temples, a handkerchief in the breast pocket, and perfect manners. This Monsieur is assertive, dynamic, virile, and self-confident, not a quiet gentleman who speaks in a gentle voice; he belongs to the strong who do not wait and take what they want.

For me, Monsieur (alongside Santal Sacré) is THE discovery of the last few months, and I am pleased that it can take a well-deserved place in the Top 100 here and now.

And for all those who understand the hint: I can only hope that the usual detractors take their time ...

Dominique Ropion is said to be one of the best perfumers for floral scent compositions, and it is therefore not surprising that he has predominantly created women's fragrances so far, as flowers still clearly represent femininity in modern interpretations and concepts - albeit not exclusively.
Thus, Carnal Flower - which is not surprising given its name - is also dominated by flowers, but is marketed as a unisex fragrance, which is quite surprising since CF lacks a masculine counterpart, such as woody or spicy notes, and therefore does not find balance or equilibrium. In my opinion, it is clearly feminine.

This one-sided floral quality without a counterbalance does not align with my personal ideas of a fragrance suitable for me as a man, as it only rarely appeals to me and does not match my appearance and demeanor. However, every male nose must decide for itself whether it finds this fragrance wearable or not.

CF is hard to grasp and eludes a clear description, but it is well composed and of convincing quality. In the opening, jasmine dominates - my personal nightmare among floral notes - and not tuberose. The tuberose only unfolds shortly thereafter, radiating the full power of its seductive femininity, which justifies the name.
The fragrance is very changeable as it develops, oscillating between its scent components, appearing fickle and indecisive, and its progression seems like a game of farewell and return. Thus, various images arise, ranging from cemetery to flower shop to the often-cited cosmetic box. The flowers are fresh and wilted, sometimes green like their stems and leaves, sometimes earthy like their roots and tubers. Through this interplay, CF does not have a linear progression, but offers a small round trip, ending back where it began.

With “Une Fleur de Cassie,” Ropion himself demonstrated that it can be done differently and that floral fragrances can also be worn by men when they, for example, experience a counterweight through wood. And with “Geranium pour Monsieur,” he also showed that a feminine flower can be made suitable for men through spicy notes and wood, even though these concepts have never been among my preferred directions and thus will never awaken my desire.

There is a certain entertainment value in looking at the descriptions of this fragrance. At one time, Olivier Creed is said to have been inspired by the landscape of the French Pyrenees, at another by that of the Swiss Alps. He is said to have wandered through forests and meadows, hiked over mountains and through valleys. On another occasion, the inspiration is attributed to his fondness for skiing. Well, let's chalk this up to marketing and advertising ... It's also a funny image to picture Creed hopping from stone to stone to cross a stream or kneeling by its bank or smelling flowers and herbs in a meadow.

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Silver Mountain Water is sold as an Eau de Parfum, although the concentration is merely that of an Eau de Toilette. This is the case with most of Creed's fragrances. A rip-off? Well, I leave that judgment to each individual. For me, SMW has Cologne character anyway and is, in my opinion, not a true EdT and certainly not an EdP.

SMW belongs to the family of fresh, fruity, and woody scents; I would personally add green as well. Fresh-fruity-green-woody, in that order, is how I perceive the fragrance. Thus, it is a clear candidate for spring and summer.

SMW starts fresh and fruity with bergamot and mandarin and indeed carries something very clean, pure, and clear within it, which makes the name and its reference to the idea of a clean and clear mountain stream or lake quite justified.
A small flaw: The fruit surprisingly comes across as slightly synthetic, which I have not noticed in Creed's fragrances before.
The opening dissipates very quickly, and the development takes a rapid course, as petitgrain and sandalwood appear very quickly. The base, which smells sour and slightly bitter, lingers longer than one might expect after this opening.

All in all, I also perceive delicate aspects of powder in SMW, a slight soapiness that surely comes from the musk, and also a slightly bitter note for which I hold galbanum responsible. The green character remains present in the fragrance.

Is everything very negative? No, not at all!

Personally, I like the mentioned aspects. The Cologne character, the sour, slightly bitter green, the seemingly simple composition that is actually much more complex.

The beauty of SMW lies in its seemingly simplicity and in the perfect harmony of its fragrance components, for this is the true art of perfumery.

Sometimes less is more, as is the case with this fragrance, for it comes across as the understatement of a master.

What a pathetic attempt at self-copying, because Pure Havane is for me anything but a worthy offshoot of the A*Men line. Since I consider Pure Shot and Pure Malt to be quite successful, I had certain expectations for this fragrance, especially since the ranking here is exceptionally good. A massive disappointment set in.

Pure Havane is extremely sweet at the start and quickly falls victim to its own lack of character and insignificance. It weakens and flattens out after a short time, making it quickly boring. It also comes off as synthetic, which becomes increasingly clear as it develops. It feels like a poor mainstream fragrance and has nothing extraordinary about it. I cannot understand the enthusiasm for this creation, but well. Taste is indeed very individual.

The sweetness in my nose feels more berry-like and reminds me little of honey, with no trace of tobacco. Patchouli, amber, well, if you just imagine it strongly, the power of autosuggestion helps. Therefore, Pure Havane is also not a well-rounded composition; it is very unremarkable, straightforwardly simple, and dull, as something is missing here. The interplay of the fragrance components does not seem to work particularly well.

Chanelle wrote A*Men for her, and I can only agree with her on this point. A*Men is as virile as a girl with braids and a summer dress - namely not at all. The concept of the modern masculine tobacco scent is completely failed here.

Far, very far from the mainstream and the pleasing niche scent stands Miel de bois, a truly extraordinary fragrance. I find the composition as interesting as it is challenging, and I am not sure what to make of it. I must confess, I oscillate between incomprehensible fascination and fascinated incomprehension. The comments of my predecessors also reflect this ambivalence.

Mdb is sweet, woody, and smells like freshly applied furniture polish with a medicinal, incense-like, resinous undertone. Sweet, heavy resin best describes the scent on my skin / in my nose.

And here lies the problem, because as fascinating as Mdb is at first, it becomes annoying over time. It doesn't really change and lingers and lingers, staying put. Mdb suffers from what others criticize - its persistent longevity. And me! Because usually, I unfortunately have the problem of scent-absorbing skin, and even notorious killer scents like Black Afgano last on my skin for only a few hours. But for some reason, it overwhelms me, and the scent clings to my skin and refuses to fade. Since the fragrance does not evolve further, it unfortunately also feels incomplete. The surprising twist is completely missing here.

Conclusion: Truly a delight only for tough honey bears. I advise everyone else to use caution in their dosage.