Scenturio277

Some time ago, a friend asked me for help in finding a suitable fragrance for him. It should be alcoholic, that was pretty much the only guideline he gave me. We set out on the search together, and since I know him quite well, the Black Phantom - Memento Mori caught my eye relatively quickly: Spiced rum with coffee, it should fit perfectly. Since the price for (by) Kilian is already quite steep for a blind buy, the next logical stop was the Spectre Wraith from French Avenue/Fragrance World. He ordered it, was very enthusiastic, and at the next opportunity, he let me sniff it as well. And since I found it for €30 a few days ago, it is now also part of my collection.

A look at the fragrance pyramid tells you everything you need to know about the scent profile: Spiced rum with coffee and sugar on a sandalwood base. Patchouli doesn't play a particularly significant role in my nose, nor does vetiver. Both are more like supports for the sandalwood, balancing the fragrance without standing out themselves. Since neither of these notes is among my favorites, I can fully accept this circumstance. Something I also absolutely cannot relate to is coffee. I don't like it in any form, whether with or without milk, sugar, foam, and whatever else exists. Accordingly, I have to keep my nose away from my skin in the first half hour after spraying, as the coffee is really very intensely noticeable during that time. Close to the skin, mind you! In the air, after a few minutes, you can already sense what will appear directly on the skin after about an hour: The coffee transforms into an extremely dark, intoxicating chocolate. The rum and spices don't mind this at all; they harmonize excellently with both, although in the air it initially seems as if you poured some coffee into your rum, not the other way around. However, once the chocolaty aspect takes over, the rum calms down somewhat and from then on harmonizes perfectly with it, supported by the sugar, so that the whole thing doesn't drift into a musty, cellar-like scent. Despite the sweet-spicy gourmand orientation, it is by no means a crowd-pleaser! Its DNA is too special, too dark, and the likelihood of causing a stir or at least not generating enthusiastic reactions is significantly higher than with other representatives of this genre.

The performance of the Wraith is already very strong at the beginning, but it settles into a good range after about an hour (at least on my skin). Good, because it makes the fragrance more versatile: If it maintained the initial intensity for several hours, it would only be suitable for events where you want to overpower other scents. However, after an initial big hello, a noticeable but pleasant sillage follows that doesn't intrude too much on anyone unless that person seeks immediate proximity to the wearer.

Now let's talk about the presentation, and here Fragrance World really pulls out all the stops. The name choice seems a bit strange, as both "Spectre" and "Wraith" are terms for a ghost. Are Wraiths different/more malevolent than Spectres or Ghosts (which is the name for another representative of the series)? And what will the next candidate in the series be called (Spectre Banshee would be interesting)? Ignoring all semantic subtleties: The basic design is already known from the predecessors of the series, but the Wraith has received the blackout treatment, fitting to its name and scent. Packaging (side sliding box with a slightly too tight fit), bottle, cap: Everything is in deep black, with the vertical WRAITH lettering being the only thing providing a color contrast. The shape fits the scent DNA much better than it does with the Ghost: angular and edgy, the bullet embedded in the side (which confusingly is depicted including the casing. A small note to the designer: That's not how firearms work), the shockwave caused by the "impact" from the bottle combines with the "deformed" glass or front cover. All of this may seem too kitschy and/or exaggerated to some. Too deliberately masculine. I confess: I am the target audience; the design completely resonates with me. For everyone who feels differently, there is at least a well-fitting cap and a sprayer that is unmatched in this price segment, as it is under pressure and allows for very precise dosing. Again: For €30.

Spectre Wraith delivers a DNA that is clearly different from much of what you usually smell (especially in the mainstream area), along with a performance that makes it present but not too aggressive. Anyone looking for a signature scent that stands out from the crowd should at least give this fragrance a sniff, especially since its longevity on clothing makes it predestined for daily wear: You can't wash it off as quickly as it takes over shirts. As my first French Avenue/Fragrance World perfume, it has left an extremely good impression.

For those wanting to wear a Dua fragrance, it's not been easy in Germany lately: When you visit the Americans' homepage, you find a rich (not to say overwhelming) selection and regular discount promotions, but as soon as you head to the virtual checkout, reality hits. Among the selectable destination countries are the Netherlands, Poland, France, and even Ukraine (!), but Germany is left out in the cold. Even if you have your order shipped to friends or acquaintances abroad, a hefty €30 shipping fee plus potential customs charges apply. There is a German online store, but it only lists "just" 119 fragrances (and this one is not among them), and currently (as of 09.05.2025) only 12 of those are in stock. This is not really practical unless you are a complete ultra of one or more fragrances from this house and absolutely must have them. Personally, I am lucky that a well-off friend regularly spends his vacations in the USA and can bring me a gem or two directly from there. The =3.14 was one of those nearly 2 years ago, but it was only recently added to the database.

While Dua now also has various standalone fragrances (marked on the homepage as "A Dua Fragrances Original Blend"), they have likely gained recognition among most people through their clones or hybrid/tribride/x-bride versions of well-known perfumes. They do not approach this like Lattafa, whose range also consists of many clones but often comes with its own twist. Many Dua fragrances, on the other hand, are 1:1 interpretations, and I can understand those who are put off by this approach, especially when considering the rather aggressive social media marketing in the past. However, in my view, they have quite an ace up their sleeve, and this situation is often self-inflicted by the brands whose fragrances are being copied. It naturally relates to the tiresome issue of reformulations, particularly of successful designer scents. One of these fragrances that has fallen victim to this (presumably) imposed fate by the business administration department is "Pi (Eau de Toilette) | Givenchy." It’s not that I owned it during its heyday, but it was the quasi-signature scent of an acquaintance, which meant I was regularly exposed to it. When I compare the currently available version to my memory of it, two things stand out: On one hand, the current Pi seems fundamentally duller, as if it has been so heavily compressed like an audio file that many nuances have simply been cut off. On the other hand, while the performance is not a disaster, I wouldn’t rate it above average, and even that only with one and a half squinted eyes. Since I wasn’t really satisfied with all of this, I asked the aforementioned acquaintance to get me one of the Dua bottles.

And after I leaned back and sprayed it for the first time, the grin on my face developed all by itself. There it is again, the Pi from the past. The zesty opening with mandarin, which at the beginning receives a fabric softener-like freshness from the aromatic green components, yet never appears musky. And underneath, this absolute heavyweight of a base, the interplay of cedar and benzoin, supported by the sweetness of tonka and vanilla. Nothing sticks out or overpowers; everything is where it belongs. The progression is linear, with only the fresh aspect stepping back after about an hour, though it doesn’t completely disappear. This creates a continuous contrast to the base and allows it to showcase its full strength. Due to the notes used, it naturally comes across as very sweet, but thanks to the aforementioned aromatic freshness and the cedar, it never veers into the sticky territory. Even the mandarin aspect can still be perceived lightly after some time. It’s simply a wonderful fragrance, sexy, playful, but elegant enough to wear even over 30. Speaking of sexy: Ladies, don’t be afraid of the cedar; give it a try when you have the chance!

A few words about the price. 34ml of the Dua costs $33. Since 100ml of the Givenchy, including shipping, can be had for as low as €50, its clone is therefore twice as expensive, and that’s without shipping and customs fees. It’s understandable that this meets with rejection, but it must be noted that, unlike the EdT, this is an extrait. This results in a typical Dua-level excellent longevity, while the sillage, in relation to the duration of the fragrance, is good but doesn’t fill rooms at the beginning. The second and for me more crucial point is that the Pi in this formulation is simply no longer available. Givenchy has evidently entrusted the Gentleman series as its flagship (even though I believe they took the completely wrong exit with the Society... creepy), but apparently does not want to discontinue the Pi and instead lets it languish in obscurity. Because of this decision, I can only conclude with "self-inflicted," as the DNA is by no means outdated or out of fashion. That Dua offers fans like me the opportunity to enjoy the original version (or at least something very close to it) legitimizes the clone for me 100%. Better than with the following fixed English expression, I don’t think the =3.14 can be described: We've come full circle.

After my rather sobering experience with the For Him Red Edition Intense regarding BR540 clones, I want to take the opportunity to dedicate a review to Ana Abiyedh Rouge here as well. In terms of scent, two main differences can be noted compared to the mentioned Zara dupe: The musk is significantly more subdued and does not stand out. And the overall DNA has been expanded with a fruity component through pear. The rest corresponds to the familiar construct: A dentist treats himself to an extra large portion of cotton candy in his practice. The fruitiness reminds one of a sweet Williams pear, you know, the kind where the juice runs down your chin when you bite into it. That it makes the scent lean more towards the feminine may be true, but let's be honest: Anyone looking for something masculine is certainly not reaching for BR540 or similar. I find the twist very successful; the combination simply works.

What interests me more is the question of performance. At times it is praised to the skies, at other times described as abysmal. Now, it seems that the BR540 DNA is generally prone to scent blindness; similar things are read/heard about other representatives of this kind, with the exception of the Zara version, which unfortunately pays for its permanently penetrating perceptibility with the dreadful synthetic musk. The AAR has indeed presented itself to me with two faces: When I first sprayed it, I was visiting my parents. I applied two sprays on my forearm in the evening, in the guest room, which is about 12m² in size. After initial joy (close to the original, good twist with the pear), disappointment followed: An hour in and I had to put my nose directly on my arm to perceive anything at all. So I sprayed again, but even then: 60 minutes and the show seemed to be over. Disappointing, but hey, 15€, that doesn’t hurt too much. So off to bed, and the next day I went to a festival. Black metal, beer, sweat, and with the Leather Oudh from Orientica, pretty much the opposite of the AAR. Not for the faint of heart, go big or go home. The big surprise came upon returning to the aforementioned guest room: Over 24 hours after I had distributed three (!) sprays on my arm, which had presumably stuck to the bedspread, I opened the door and BAM! The full force of BR540 hit me. What I had been searching for with my nose the day before had settled throughout the entire room and could only be coaxed out by opening the window with the room door ajar. So for anyone worried that they won't be noticed with this scent: Spray it on clothing, hang the garment in a smaller, only slightly ventilated room, and come back after a day. It performs, and not by a little!

Then there's the presentation: It is typically over-the-top for Lattafa, especially in this price range. The glass of the bottle can only be described as "massive"; I just measured it, the bottom is 3.2 cm thick! With its angular design, it could also serve as a projectile for home defense in an emergency. The cap, which contains those kitschy "gemstones" like the CdN scents from Armaf, still holds the bottle securely, no risk of a broken bottle from a fall, very good. The rest also corresponds to the (horrible) original version, which only shares the pear with this one as an Erba Pura dupe. The packaging is just as elaborate with its sleeve, the color scheme is adapted to the name, which could have been chosen better ("I am white-red" evokes associations with fries and regional league football rather than perfume), but so be it. You get something for your money, which in itself wouldn’t have been necessary since the scent itself already convinces. Whether this is customer proximity or a challenge to the competition is something everyone should judge for themselves.

So, do you absolutely have to have the AAR? In my opinion, no, just as little as one "must" have the original. However, anyone who enjoys the DNA should at least have a look at it. Fine noses will probably notice qualitative differences to the Baccarat Rouge 540 Extrait de Parfum (350€ / 70ml), but to be honest: 60 ml of the AAR costs just 15€, which is only 4% of the original. And it doesn’t smell 96% inferior, not even close. BR540 ultras will stick to their scent anyway, which is absolutely fine. All other interested parties: Don’t be put off by reports of poor performance and give Ana Abiyedh Rouge a try!

Today was a beautiful spring day, with pleasantly warm temperatures and sunshine. A good opportunity to head into the city and continue my Zara journey. This time, it was Red Intense. The scent, applied from the tester both on paper and on skin, can then be enjoyed in peace during the walk back home. So much for the theory.
I'm sorry to have to ruin the mood here, but after the absolutely positive surprise that Sand Desert at Sunset Intense represented for me, Zara immediately delivers the next disappointment. One step at a time.

Red Intense copies Baccarat Rouge 540 Eau de Parfum, a fragrance that, due to its overwhelming sweetness and general DNA, tends to divide opinions and yet (or perhaps because of that?) is known to pretty much everyone. Probably one reason why there are so many clones or twists of it. It's not one of my favorites, but I'm not averse to it either. Red Intense immediately shows how not to do the opening, because in the first two to three minutes, there is a piercing alcohol note reminiscent of the qualitatively poor dupes from about 10 years ago. Of course, that fades quickly, but my first thought was "I thought we left that behind." Anyway, let's see how it develops. And indeed, there it is, the well-known BR540 DNA: cotton candy sweetness, dentist-synthetic, so far so good (or bad, depending on your perspective). Unfortunately, Zara has come up with the idea that the fragrance should be more masculine than the original. This was attempted by adding a huge portion of musk that is not listed in the pyramid, but which I immediately recognize: it’s the same (or at least very similar) synthetic musk that has already spoiled "Ana Abiyedh / آنا أبيض (Eau de Parfum) | Lattafa / لطافة" for me. This is even more dominant for me in the first hours than the BR540 component, which, although consistently perceptible, is not the main actor. After a few hours, the musk calms down a bit but remains present. Oh, citrus components are also listed. One word: irrelevant. Top and base notes do not exist, just BR and musk, that's it. The focus only shifts slightly over time.

I find it difficult to make a final statement about the performance, as I have only been wearing it for a few hours and have tried to wash it off my wrist (which hardly works), so I am orienting myself based on previous reviews and say: above average fits, both generally and specifically regarding Zara. The name addition "Intense" seems to hold up.

In conclusion, differing from the surprisingly many enthusiasts here: it is nothing at all. I just can't deal with this in-your-face musk. Even if it calms down a bit and the amber becomes more present, it is too over-seasoned for me to be pleasing. Synthetics are part of the BR540 DNA, but here they are already very strongly perceptible. My girlfriend's comment, who was standing next to me when I sprayed it, was a simple yet telling "Urgh." I give a strong blind-buy warning; one should definitely sniff it before purchasing. As an alternative, albeit a bit more feminine, "Ana Abiyedh Rouge | Lattafa / لطافة" remains in my collection: stronger BR sweetness plus pear, less and especially not piercing musk, and (in my batch) strong performance. There are certainly enough alternatives, so one does not have to rely on Red Intense if it only half or not at all convinces. And now I’m heading straight back to the bathroom to keep scrubbing my wrist.

Oh, Louis! You want to grab some attention too, don’t you? Today it’s supposed to be oriental, and you’re glancing over at "Arabians Tonka | Montale." And because we’re feeling particularly bold today, there’s even a note that no one else has used so far, along with civet for an animalistic touch? You’ve really set yourself quite a challenge!

And for that, quite a bit has been brought out (at least according to the pyramid) to really make a statement! Alone: Not much of it is perceptible. Bergamot, lemon, and orange suggest an explosive citrus start, but at most, a faint hint comes through. Cypress, patchouli, rosemary, and hammer shrub (the first and only fragrance on Parfumo to use this note! Finally!) raise expectations for a green scent with a spicy twist, but even there: No luck, at least regarding the green notes. Spice is indeed present, but similar to the citrus elements, it remains subtle, never taking center stage. Tamed cardamom is something you find rather rarely. So what sets the tone then? A look at the base notes reveals part of the answer: Vanilla-amber provides a consistently present, warm sweetness right from the start. Not listed, but from beginning to end the star of the show is: hairspray… Because that seems to be Louis' definition of an oriental: sweet hairspray with minimal spice. It only becomes woody, if at all, to the extent that I wonder if I’m imagining it or if there’s actually something in that direction (maybe the cypress?). And the whole thing isn’t particularly daring in its execution; the civet kitten is far too well-behaved and polished to stand out or even cause a stir. It settles for a restrained presence.

Restrained is also the performance. While the longevity is still acceptable, the sillage is a tragedy, at least with my bottle: Four sprays on the neck, 5 minutes later out the door, and despite the wind, it’s more sensed than actually smelled. Right now it’s lying on a test strip (sprayed 10 minutes ago) about 50cm in front of me on the table and I smell... nothing. I absolutely cannot understand the reviews here, and it doesn’t seem to be my skin, so it must be an extremely weak batch as an explanation. The performance is in no way comparable to the Extreme Amber from the same house, which performs like a madman (my girlfriend’s scarf still spreads the scent in the room days later). A similar performance would have suited the Extreme Oriental well, if only to do justice to its name. Because it doesn’t smell bad at all, as long as you can deal with the sweet hairspray DNA. However, with the current performance, it feels like someone who really wants to let loose and, to celebrate the day, drinks a second beer and even smokes a cigarette. Extreme is not present here at all.

The bottle, on the other hand, leaves a much stronger impression: angular, black, with a golden sprayer and golden lettering, plus a black cap with a wood look. Of course, it’s made of plastic, but you can easily and securely lift the bottle by it. For me, this is a significant plus point. The sprayer has a rather short stroke, especially in combination with the not particularly potent content, requiring multiple pumps, preferably 3-6 times more than less. Nevertheless, a successful presentation; black and gold really makes a statement as a color combination.

Conclusion: Is the Extreme Oriental recommendable? Maybe. Those who want to take a first, tentative step towards something oriental-niche (the step is really very small) can certainly use it as a reference. Especially since it doesn’t break the bank at 20€. Unfortunately, it has not been available at DM for quite some time, just like the other fragrances from the brand, making prior sniffing impossible. As a blind buy alternative, I recommend the "Taraf (black) | Zimaya," which goes much stronger in the direction of Arabians Tonka, though it doesn’t replicate it exactly. It’s more of an “inspired by” than an exact copy. However, it performs stronger than the Varel and costs even less at 15€. Neither are serious candidates for an oriental. At least Varel retains the title of "Only Hammer shrub perfume on Parfumo." Well then.