Systemshaak

Upon a first spray, it looks like Green Irish Tweed isn't doing anything new. I get a blast of galbanum similar to Egoiste Platinum, a cooling element that I know, historically, is also in Cool Water, and an accord of bergamot/cedar that can only be described as "Irish Spring." Yes, the soap. As the galbanum and ozonic stuff settles down, and it does rather quickly, something else happens: this stuff literally evokes old-time fabric to me.

[This brings with it a warning: do not test this on paper. Test it on your skin. You're going to get those blazing topnotes after a quick sniff on paper and that's not what GIT is about. Give it a good ten minutes on your wrist when you're testing.]

This fabric-like result isn't because there's a Wool Absolute in here or anything. There's something about the blend of the vegetal green elements, the sharper cool elements, the wildflowers you'd often find in northern climates which seem to *emerge* out of the rest of the fragrance on the drydown as the other stuff smooths out, and the earthier amber (whichever molecule it is, probably not the whale stuff) that comes together in my head as "A wool jacket in an old rich mansion's mahogany closet." Heck if I've been in a mansion, right? But the idea is there. Unlike a lot of the scents I tend to enjoy, which center around studying and morphing *one* note, this is a legitimate example of an accord - a combination of notes that wind up different as a sum than the parts.

So let's run down this list... Egoiste Platinum, Cool Water, Irish Spring, vintage fabric - heck, anything green! I'd bathe in Coach Green! These are all my kind of vibe. Of course I'm going to like Green Irish Tweed. It's amazing, particularly for this nose about two feet above this keyboard.

Now, you might wonder if it's in bad taste to wear something that shares a particular vibe to a popular cheap-side soap, but I don't see it that way at all. Both Creed and the makers of Irish Spring know that a combo of a particular kind of bergamot and cedar in the right proportion makes something excellent. (The oldest EDC producers knew this too.) The difference is that soap won't last you long or project anywhere - this will, although not offensively so. If you *love* Irish Spring soap, this is like the ultimate merch for the Irish Spring fan. It's a classic green with the addition of something so complex that it pulls a fabric illusion out of its hat, but it's still celebrating that old IS combo.

Does this stand out at a nightclub full of beast-mode synthetics and oud wannabes? No. Thank the Lord for that. I'm too old for all that nonsense. But it's good close-up. If you're getting GIT, you're getting it for your own enjoyment first and the office, boardroom, or conference hall second. Throw out the misgivings around soap and Cool Water - try it on your skin, and if you like it, you're gonna like it for 50 or 100 milliliters too.

[Sidenote: I had a 2mL sample from the discovery set via Nordstrom in 2018 and got a bottle in 2025 from good old Costco, so we're pre-Kering and post-Kering side by side, left and right wrist. The initial spray had a slightly different alcoholic edge in 2018, and I'm thinking that might be from a synthetic / amber molecule switch-up, or maybe it's just been sitting there in a tiny vial for so long, but it doesn't affect the overall fragrance on the drydown. All the important things are there. 15 minutes in, there's no difference, and the longevity's good. And yes, if you're ordering there, it's real.

Now look: IFRA banned real oakmoss years ago. Older GIT will inevitably be richer and more performative. I know. At least you won’t set off anyone’s allergies.]

After some niche and designer exclusive line exploring, I’ve found some good stuff, but I always came back to this multi-sampler box my wife got me for Christmas a couple years back. Most of the samples were your average designer thing for 2023- fake vanilla all over the place as if every couture brand just heard about 1 Million EDT. But one sample stood out- Ralph’s Club Elixir.

It was baffling at first! A few top notes suggested Yeah, It’s Ralph Lauren Again. But then it gets going: what starts as this sweet bubblegum iris gets rounded out by… what the heck? Beeswax? Leather maybe? But also it’s kinda inherently the iris?

Turns out this uses orris butter- iris roots (the actual source of their scent) are fermented, forming a butter that’s both floral and waxy. Why? Well, it lasts a lot longer than your average iris extract.

Then I pondered what resulted for the rest of the day: this wasn’t a “blend of notes” forming some sort of overall accord the way you’d get out of an abstract designer scent or a Clive Christian “we said yes to everything” list of notes in a bottle. This was more like what Zoologist did to Japanese incense in their Yuzu Macaque: yes, yuzu and hydrocarbons and such were there, but they were only there to sharpen the incense on the top, deepen it around the middle. One ingredient with enhancements, like a dish with a really good scallop and the rest is just sauce and contrast as a complement.

Ralph’s Club Elixir does this to orris butter successfully, working around the edges of the ingredient to yield a scent that’s full of wax and leather and traditionally-masculine stuff… but floral. And eternal, I-just-showered-and-it’s-still-there longevity.

If you liked Prada L’Homme or the brilliant Infusion d’Homme but wanted something darker- or if IFRA-safe leather-mimicry leaves you wanting more depth and less That Really Isn’t Leather feelings- check this out. Most things dubbed the made-up “elixir” add wood - especially oud. Kudos to RL for zigging when the others zagged and trying something wild.

Orris Butter is not for everyone. Not for all types of skin, all types of sweat, or all weather. But you might find yourself, like me, considering a sample or decant for two years and finally getting a bottle. (And what a bottle! That metal flip-cap is above and beyond.)

[edit: you know what's weird? If I put this on my wrist or the back of my neck, instead of my chest where it's blocked by my shirt, the drydown has way more of the promised balsam fir absolute in there. That woody, piney edge on top of the iris and wax and such. It's nice!]

I distinctly remember the only time I got to visit the hippie-adjacent store in my town when I was a kid - they had a whole lineup of essential oils to try out, and I wound up fixated on rose. Like, to the point where my mother reluctantly bought a bottle of it for me (hey, support your local business after all) and I'd just open it up and sniff it from time to time to relax myself a bit. Of course, being a child, I didn't know how this all worked, so at some point I dumped it on top of a bowl of old potpourri, thinking it would make my room smell good forever. Yeah, that was the end of smelling a rose oil for me. Whoops.

Flash forward past most of my life wearing either no fragrances or a citrus-woody one from time to time, and I got to thinking about that time - I always get pulled back into scent as a hobby, but as a guy without the skin or the style to pull off a traditionally-feminine scent, I wished there had been a more masculine rose scent out there. When I smelled rose in most unisex or women's perfumes, it came with other notes or synthetics that pushed me off of it - notes you'd probably find in women's hairspray or deodorant. Scents do not have a gender, yes, but that chemical profile just didn't do it for me. Was it the rose that did it? Well, after trying out Duke, now my answer is no: rose is for everyone, it's all in how you present it.

Because Disney World's EPCOT center is surprisingly packed with international perfume shops, I recently got to try out the greatest hits of the Penhaligon's lineup. Like with most fragrance lineups (and sadly, like just about all of the Guerlain lineup I also surveyed), a ton of those weren't for me. Ambrox and I aren't friends, I'm not much for rum, nor do I work well with most synthetic or natural substitutes for leather. Blenheim Bouquet was neat, but a little fleeting. But The Duke stood out: there was something about the deep florals interacting with some drink-like bitters and a looming, dry darkness in it that worked for me.

Duke had a multiphase drydown: at first spray, and for the first hour, you do pick up both the gin notes ("botanical" I suppose) and a light floral thing, like an old-school barbershop with a luxury shaving cream. And that's nice. As someone who can no longer drink alcohol, I miss complex drinks made with gin and bitters and herbs and stuff! Then the top notes, as they do, fade out, the spices set in, and you wind up with a slightly woody spiced rose hybrid. This is why I mentioned my experiences with rose above: this was finally an expression of rose that didn't have a lot of the traditional-feminine chemistry baggage to it. It wasn't overly sweet or rounded, but it also wasn't "dried rose" either. It's more like the best parts of a rose scent with an added dry, crunchy darkness to it. Then the long tail is just an exquisite rose fragrance - no bells and whistles, just a good rose. One that even my wife was into as a scent I could wear - and that's not easy to find.

Walking out of that store, my wallet was light and my spirits were high; this is a good one for me in particular and for all the rose-loving dudes out there.

And that bottle! Who doesn't love a pup?

[A couple of things to note here: one, don't worry about the cumin note. I bet this is how they balanced out the rose to darken and dry it, but as someone who cooks with cumin seeds all the time, it's not the same thing. This isn't "hints of BO" cumin, but maybe your skin might vary on this. Two, it's hilarious that after I fell in love with this scent, there it was in the notes - vetiver yet again. Somehow, even if I can't smell vetiver, the scents I love all have it somewhere, whether that's an actual extract or just vetiveryl acetate. It's not a vetiver scent, but there it is.]

People will often like Zara because some of the stuff they make could be (or sometimes *is*) a near-duplicate of a more expensive scent, but finally being in a shopping center with a Zara in it, I tried those popular picks out… and dupes or not, they weren’t for me.

However, 800 Black was different. In a real old-school fashion, bright citrus notes lighten up a darker woody core. And sure, there’s some saffron and tonka, fine. But this one dries down darker, and maybe that’s just the non-vanilla side of a tonka note, or hey, maybe that’s just some synth ingredient. Still, this is a nice one - a classic style, but a little more emphatic on the notes it’s shooting for than your average older scent. Didn’t have a problem with sillage, same with longevity, but it isn’t a monster either.

Worth checking out! Especially for the price. Nice bottle, by the way. Atomizer kinda sucks, but it’s alright.

My selection process for purchasing a bottle of a fragrance takes a while. I usually order samples, then I'll give a decant a spin, and if I finish off that decant and want more, I'll go for the whole thing. Chanel makes this *very difficult to do* through its Rolex-like authorized seller enforcement; one cannot simply procure a Chanel decant. (Yes, there's one business out there. No, that's not an appropriate price for doing so.) Therefore, it's off to the store to try things out. It's on you to test something and walk away, give it time, let it dry out.

So here I was, off to the official Chanel store, thinking I'd be into Paris-Edimbourg or maybe Allure Homme Edition Blanche--the stuff that isn't on the usual shelves but doesn't cost an arm and a leg, right? Right? Of course not. I tried out so many different fragrances there, and my eyes couldn't help but light up and my nose couldn't help but keep that sample card close to it for an extended period of time when I said "Well, I guess I really should try Sycomore."

That wasn't all, though. I gave Sycomore a chance to throw itself off of me, walking out of the store and down the street, letting it dry down and develop as I talked this through. "We'll wait a few months on this. It's too expensive. I have Encre Noire and Encre Noire a l'Extreme, it'll be fine." Instead, Sycomore *got better.* Chanel-ade is often discussed but the benefits aren't always spelled out, so let me spell this one out: the old-school Chanel chemistry involved in even their most brash and out-there scents assists in smoothing out the drydown of the fragrance. As the smoky, nutty, impeccably-extracted vetiver starts drying off, it's enrobed in this luxurious Chanel velvet blanket that makes even the most daring note more accessible, more enjoyable.

Finally, I gave in. They got me. That price wasn't easy to swallow, but Chanel didn't have a competitor at this high a level. I enjoy the cypressy and somewhat harsh (if a bit fleeting) Encre Noire and the elemi-assisted a l'Extreme, but this was different; it was a celebration of a note I enjoyed so much but often came off as too harsh or got buried in a multi-note melange. The vetiver on display here has layers; sniff a little too much when it's first sprayed and it'll punch you in the nose with rooty, boozy, nutty fire, but the drydown is that immaculate velvet-vetiver that lasts for-freaking-ever. I was smelling my own wrist that whole darn day. I put carpal tunnel wrist braces on at night. I woke up, took those off, and *there Sycomore was,* just chilling out and smelling good on my wrist. Sorcery.

[Sidenote: if you're looking at the notes and thinking "I don't want a tobacco and violet scent," don't worry: this is all about vetiver. Those other notes just support it in small unspoken ways.]

If you're thinking about Sycomore but you haven't gone through a couple vetiver scents yet, get educated on it first. Get yourself an affordable bottle of Encre Noire at the very least, maybe some Guerlain Vetiver EdT or Fat Electrician. Then come back and try this out - how it's distinguishable from those is half the appeal. Vetiver isn't for everyone, but it's *expressed* so well in Sycomore. Like a complex overwhelmingly experimental band that's often "music for musicians," this vetiver scent is a deluxe treatment of vetiver for vetiver nerds.

Is it the most high-quality vetiver ever made? I have no idea, but I'd guess something like Vetiver Bourbon takes that cake; that isn't the point in Sycomore nearly as much as the executed sum of its parts. Is it worth the price? That's up to you. Is it unique enough to warrant such a thing? Yes. Unique and wonderful.