Tecon

What sounds radical at first glance is, upon closer inspection, an interesting quote, which is preceded by: "No Arab loves the desert. We love water and green trees." However, water and green trees belong to every desert, just like wild animals. And I am searching for those in vain here. At the same time, the feeling of true, vast emptiness, a light nothingness would have been desirable. ("Nothing" feels light to me, "much" feels heavy.) Unfortunately, there is no trace of that either.

Since I have just come from the Namibian desert, I became curious due to the comments and various blog articles about whether this fragrance can indeed be associated with what I have just experienced...
I am aware that Lys du Désert does not take inspiration from the Arab or African deserts, but aims to reflect American vegetation. However, I doubt that a desert there smells powdery-sweet.
Lys du Désert is warm, also dust-dry. But that is not sufficient for the intended association for me. At most, I can connect this fragrance with the vast dryness surrounding the intriguing, corrupt, glamorous Las Vegas (the heavy aspect), as known from film and television.

In this regard, unfortunately, a disappointment for me. Nevertheless, it is certainly not a "bad" fragrance. In terms of quality, Lys du Désert is definitely high-end. I also agree that the development becomes better and more pleasant, which I cannot say for many perfumes regarding my skin. Only the connection to the name unfortunately eludes me.

As with so many so-called unisex fragrances, I would also assign this one quite clearly to a gender. In this case, female, whether young or old likely depends heavily on the type.

Campfire, Middle Ages, woolen clothes... These are the images that spontaneously came to my mind when I first sprayed Bois d'Ascèse. I had expected something extravagant and smoky, but this surpassed everything. Suddenly, I remembered visits to medieval markets and even history class: This is the scent of the rabble making their arduous and sacrificial journey to the Holy Land in the year 1096. The smell of crusades, pillaging, of burnt game meat grilled over an open fire without a trace of oriental spices, of burning tar meant to defend the city walls of Antioch.

No romantic notion? Bois d'Ascèse is not romantic, not cozy, nothing to be comfortable with. It is harsh, biting, intrusive, and something very special. For me, an unbearable "fragrance," even though I like smoky notes. I can't imagine any occasion where I would consider this scent appropriate. Precisely for this reason, it certainly gives its wearer an incredible aura that keeps any fabric softener at bay. I like such EdTs that refuse to be subdued and develop their own character. Even if I may never wear this in public, it remains a fantastic scent in my nose.

Since I started consciously choosing, testing, and now (ultimately based on my needs) evaluating my fragrances a few years ago, I am still on the hunt for "my" scent. It all began with Gaultier's Le Male, which, like unfortunately so many others, "somehow always works." Since it feels like three out of four men (guys) are dousing themselves with it daily, Le Male, while I find it a very pleasant and "smart" composition, is more of a copy than a signature. The characteristics "pleasant/wearable," "suitable for almost all occasions," and "not too sweet or powdery" are certainly desirable, which is why such brilliant EdPs like Nasomatto Duro or Dior Homme Intense are not suitable under these conditions and are therefore only worn on specific occasions. (The comparison with Le Male admittedly falls short... Tastes change, and everyone grows up eventually.) ;)
A more fitting comparison is the similarity to the legendary Knize Ten. (More on that later.)

In a small but fine perfumery in my hometown, the beautiful Hanseatic city of Bremen, I had the opportunity to test Carbone directly and carry it with me for the rest of the day. I had read about this scent and had become curious. Herb, spicy, smoky were clearly present in my imagination. But right after the first spray, I had to look at the salesperson questioningly and then check the bottle to see if it was indeed the intended tester... Green freshness? Lightness? Almost slightly fruity in the first seconds? Very pleasant, but that was not at all what I expected! Nevertheless, the bottle was the right one, and the salesperson nodded knowingly. And indeed: After a few moments, at most a few minutes, the green, fresh, zesty notes recede into the background, and a distinct, not at all Hanseatic smoke rises and pushes forward. Initially intrusive in contrast, but over time, it becomes pleasantly rounded.

On the way back, I passed one of the smaller Douglas stores, which had been recommended to me by the previous salesperson because they had the aforementioned Knize Ten. (Who would have thought...) Sprayed on the other arm, I had to realize that Knize Ten comes across much more powerfully at the outset, as if it wants to hit Carbone hard in direct comparison. :) Direct smoke clouds surround the wrist, so to speak, not fresh, not green. Knize Ten bites through, initially being more intense. However, over the course of both fragrances, I find them quite comparable, and the later it gets, the more similar they become. In terms of longevity, both are equally good. The scent developments are (as has been occasionally criticized) unremarkable. Both smell consistently of smoke, rubber, tar, and are slightly spiced. In contrast to Knize Ten, Carbone becomes far less sharp after a short time, somewhat less definable, more subtle, and therefore, in my opinion, more wearable in today's times, without subordinating itself to the well-known "common scents."

The bottle should also be mentioned, which is absolutely successful, simple, and chunky, reflecting the content consistently.
Additionally, the price is pleasing: At around €70/50 ml, Carbone is positioned (similar to Knize Ten) in the upper mid-range, without having to fear comparison with much more expensive waters in terms of quality.

Conclusion: Carbone de Balmain is a thoroughly successful fragrance that starts surprisingly and, in the further course, is neither intrusive nor reserved but also not very varied. It stands out from the currently sweeter or simply "fresh" sport/summer fragrances and represents an interesting exception. For me, it is clearly one of the top 10 fragrances with good chances of becoming my "signature."