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 ...

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.

...
Not just clean, but pure -
That can only be EdB from Lehmann!

With these references from advertising, a lot has already been said, because with EdB you smell like you’ve just showered, freshly shaved and styled, pressed and neatly folded.

You can imagine EdB as a mix of Fabergé's Brut and Mugler's Cologne, and I mean this positively. If you have both at home, you might as well mix them.

I can only confirm Barneys' impression of soap and shaving cream, but perhaps not necessarily core soap. The soap is a bit finer and therefore not bothersome.

Neroli, Petitgrain, and musk are my impressions, then possibly bergamot. Anise and moss follow. The rest is difficult to determine.

I don’t know what Berlin is supposed to smell like, but fresh and a bit cheeky, uncomplicatedly likeable is what this Cologne is made of. It is a very direct, yet unobtrusive Cologne. Nice!

Harry Wüstenfuchs Lehmann describes the scent as “warm and light,” just like a desert wind and not like a sandstorm. And indeed, that is not what the scent is. The fragrance has to hurry so that it doesn’t go away faster than it comes - which sounds quite nonsensical when you think about it. :)

But at least I have to hurry with my comment and quickly capture my impressions before I have to spray again and again, because the longevity is even below average for an EdC, which is unusual for the fragrances of Sahara-Harry.

Light, light, light - yes, light fits well. The scent smells slightly floral, probably softened, so light heliotrope or also light jasmine, it smells subtle, so lightly of neroli and a slight hint of tonka bean (but it could also be the heliotrope itself). Overall, it smells slightly sweet. In the quick progression, one also senses a slight touch of spicy notes and veryLIGHT there is also a bit of musk present, but here one can easily - or was it hard? - be mistaken. If my nose hasn’t caught too much desert sand, I would say “Chypre.”
Why the EdC is called Desert Wind, I don’t know either, because it could just as well be called Meadow Wind or Claudia Kramnitzel. Yes, names … Nomen non semper est omen!

What remains? Not much, I would say. The EdC leaves an overall positive scent impression, but with this low longevity and weak sillage, Harry Ali Baba Lehmann doesn’t lure 40 thieves out from behind the dune.