Mauboussin Homme by Mauboussin (2003)

Nose: Alberto Morillas

Mauboussin Homme is a fragrance which could effortlessly sell well in today’s niche or high-end designer market. I would definitely pay a higher price for it, since for the quality, its price a complete steal. The composition smells quite “new” and really sophisticated, the materials are clearly good and vibrant, there’s almost zero “designer cheapness”, and the scent shows all the solid skills of a great nose like Morillas. It’s a win to all extents, and I can’t see a reason to dislike it – except maybe for the slightly disappointing longevity, and the fact that they reformulated it – I assume that happened somewhere in 2005/2006 when Diana de Silva (which manufactured the first version) closed down. I haven’t tried the second version, which seems easier to find today, but the earlier bottles (with the purple bottom band) are still quite widely available, so no panic– in case of doubt, I’d look for those. And anyway my review is based on that first version.

Now, the juice: a surprisingly consistent, compelling and elegantly comforting smooth blend opening with a fresh and distinguished – but somehow “youthful” too – accord of bergamot, lavender and cinnamon soon joined by a sort of “phantom of Azzaro pour Homme” bone-structure (anisic sage and other “culinary” herbs, woods), recalling itself YSL Rive Gauche pour Homme, and also Cristobal pour Homme; together with a crisp, tasteful accord of something like ginger and spiced sandalwood which, as other reviewers noted, does indeed recall Carven Homme a bit. All brilliantly dusted with a subtle sweet accord of vanillic patchouli (smelling basically almost like cocoa beans) which considering the presence of citrus, herbs, sandalwood and musk, seem somehow anticipating some chords of Guerlain L’Instant pour Homme. But it's not over yet: there's also something dark around, dark and medicinal too, which joins the aromatic herbs in a really far souvenir of vintage YSL M7 (in the end, Morillas just composed it the year before).

You get the picture: a modern, spicy-balsamic (almost minty at first) Oriental fougère with a really crisp and smooth vibe and a dark shade, rounded by a surprisingly odd but perfectly fitting sort of sweet-fresh frame (I think it’s due to some nuances of cinnamon and lemon blending together), quite complex actually but perfectly harmonic and really easy to pull off. An elegant and uplifting fragrance to say the least, with a perfect evolution bringing it towards lukewarm woodier-muskier territories as hours pass, still keeping the lavender-cinnamon-vanilla combo up and running (joined by a whiff of cedar-infused incense, maybe due to the aromachemicals commonly used to built sandalwood notes).

Some of the facets of Mauboussin Homme show indeed many references to other fragrances, but considered as a whole, this scent is actually quite unique. It brilliantly puts together several inspirations, and it does it with versatility and effortless class. It smells like a bridge between classic aromatic fougères like Azzaro pour Homme and post-2000s Oriental woody-spicy gourmands. I’d define it quite “laid-back”, sophisticated by with a really carefree and relaxed vibe. And smelling just good, really good. It has just something “right” and inspired, which I really enjoy a lot. Recommended.

8/10

1818 Signature by Brooks Brothers

Nose and year are unknown to me.

I must agree completely with what shamu1 wrote on “Pour Monsieur” blog, and I thank him for having brought this fragrance to our fragrance fanatics’ attention. I am truly amazed by 1818, and despite I am a longtime fan of traditional wet shaving, I am usually not that intrigued by this type of fragrances (first because I usually don’t like cloves and they are usually stuffed with that note; and also because nearly all the ones I tried were always kind of cheap, too dry for my tastes, often poorly-lasting... and well, plain boring too sometimes). 1818 by Brooks Brothers is instead both the best masculine offering by this brand, and one of the nicest, most compelling “barbershop” scents currently available on the market, if we exclude rare or costly vintages. Maybe the best one. It is a truly impeccable, rich Bay Rum scent exuding masculinity, self-confidence, a “raw” piratesque exoticism blended with a Western breeze of clean, reassuring warmth – the kind of smooth and comforting soapy warmth evoking a fine robe, a glass of sherry, your freshly-shaved neck still burning from your Astra blades’ passage.

1818 is all of that; there’s an initial blast of leathery spices (cloves), a fresh, tart slap of citrus and bergamot, a surprisingly rich, uplifting and natural-smelling herbal-woody accord mostly comprising bay leaf, bitter grassy notes and mossy woods (and I mean deeply, realistically mossy), a dark and extremely distinguished musky base, all slowly revealing a fantastic “shaving cream” heart of soapy talc-powdery notes, with a subtle hint of sweet tobacco. There is no creativity, no fancy stuff, no pretend luxury; just a straightforward, unpretentious, proudly old-school tribute to the most classic “real men” grooming products blended by someone which must really know the subject. Mature and gentlemanly: no dandies, no hippies, no bros, no hipsters allowed.

Another sign of the quality of this fragrance is the evolution, which shows an extremely enjoyable transition from a raw, sharp and edgy spicy-leathery-herbal opening to a smooth, warm drydown comprising hints of vanilla, boozy-ambery tobacco, a surprisingly bracing sort of herbal-infused bergamot tea note, even almost some licorice-like accents, still enveloped in a refined cloud of talc soap and moody spices which smells so soothing and classy you wished it could last forever. The drydown is really not to miss here, I’ve rarely experienced such a clever, neat use of warm tea-vanillic notes (by this I mean you wouldn’t expect this drydown considering the first sharp stages of the fragrance: I didn’t really “see it coming”). The note I call “tea” is probably just the echo of herbs and bergamot, but still it really smells like tart black tea leaves to me. Hours of clean, refined, vibrant, relaxed elegance with some unpredictable shades and transitions, which can easily replace and overpass dozens of more pretentious (and way more expensive) “gentleman” fragrances. Pure comfort in a bottle. I assume 1818 won’t appeal many, if not most of today’s fragrance fans , but if you’re a “classicist” and you crave for a fantastic “barbershop” scent for those days you want to smell like a John Steinbeck’s character, then this is a gem and an absolutely compelling steal for the price.

8,5/10

Equipage Geranium by Hermès (2015)

Nose: Jean-Claude Ellena

Among the most prominent designer brands, Hermès is currently probably the only one which is still able to deliver solid products on a consistent basis, at least for the masculine/unisex side – good, sometimes great, decently boring in the worst cases. This new addition to their classic series confirms that commitment to respect customers’ taste and intelligence. Equipage Geranium is in fact, briefly put, a very solid fragrance. It pays all respects to Equipage’s heritage, cleverly reworking its bone structure by giving it a sharper, colder, more floral yet somehow drier shape – shortly, a fresher, more contemporary look. And also a sort of more transparent, edgy texture. I must say that globally it is very similar to Equipage, even almost too much, and you easily get it since the very opening. “Equipage in spring”, so to speak: all that timeless, distinguished, smoky herbal-woody refinement tinged with a shade of cold, yet cozy an breezy geranium and a sprinkle of spices, topped with a really enjoyable citric accord – citrus was there in Equipage too, here it seems a bit stronger and more persistent. The evolution is equally enjoyable, the scent – which turns out to be quite more long-lasting and bolder than you may assume – gets drier, a bit darker and woodier as a base blend of bitter mossy woods (vetiver mostly) and, I think, some cloves-leather accord gets a more prominent position, with even a touch of grey, slightly powdery smoke arising and giving some dusty, refined warmth to the blend. Still a sharp herbal blend, just a bit moodier and more somber. Oddly enough, as we’re talking about two opposite types of fragrances, the emerging of a general sense of dusty-sweet warmth brings in a really distant echo of the very drydown of Tiffany for Men, too.

Coming to the main feature and the “raison d’etre” of this flanker – the geranium – I am sadly not familiar enough with it, so I can not comment on the specific note extensively. Never been a fan of it, actually. But it seems, well, really good to me here. It smells crisp, tolerably acrid, even slightly fruity and powdery while remaining bracingly sharp and minty. And it shows some evolution, which is often a sign of quality of materials – it doesn’t simply decrease its presence, but it changes and evolves, getting unexpectedly warmer and more “powdery-floral” before leaving the stage to the mossier-woodier drydown, with sandalwood and salty vetiver as nearly-main notes – both quite thin, but fulfilling and solid.

So overall, you surely get the “Equipage” first, and only then, the subtle, brighter floral-spicy variations. In other words, don’t expect a geranium-based scent; rather a subtle, elegantly executed spicy geranium-based variation on Equipage. Whether you care for or know Equipage already, the final result is an extremely pleasant, refined “old school” fragrance with a palpable “vintage” feel (the mossiness, the virile and restrained dryness, the austere herbal-woody structure with that nondescript sort of citric-metallic feel so many classic masculine scents had, and so on – several classic names come to mind, from Monsieur Carven to, obviously, vintage Equipage itself) and a more contemporary tangy accord of spicy-grassy notes. Quite a mature, “over-30” discreet fragrance fitting like a bespoke glove, lasting longer than I expected and projecting just perfectly. Maybe just a tad too close to Equipage to make sense for Equipage fans, but... well done, Hermès.

7,5-8/10 

Perfume Calligraphy Rose & Saffron by Aramis (2013)

Two picks out of the limited three-scents range by Aramis (not that I don't like the black label one - I simply haven't tried it).

***

Perfume Calligraphy Rose

I am usually not a fan of rose – not at all, honestly, except for a couple of masculines - but this Aramis scent nails it completely. It manages to smell “rose”, but without that sort of haunting soapy heaviness many rose scents have (or on the contrary, without smelling like floor cleaner as many cheap rose scents). The key here is how perfectly they managed to balance rose with a smoky-dusty sweet resinous base, which is discreet but perfectly enhances the elegance and the juiciness of rose “taming it down” enough to provide some more dynamism and colour. This fragrance is quite simple actually, as it’s basically a resinous rose; but it’s really pleasant, solid, much versatile, surprisingly unisex and compelling. Nothing ground-breaking, but perfect for “mild fans” of rose which wouldn’t wear rose bombs, but still enjoy the note a bit. Silky, warm and classy. Honestly if I’d ever buy a scent with “rose” in its name, it would be this. It’s cozy, effortlessly refined and really pleasant to wear. Total good quality for the price.


8/10

____________________________________

Perfume Calligraphy Saffron

Quite another winner, to say the least, among this limited (and discontinued already?) line by Aramis. My favourite still remains Calligraphy Rose, but this Saffron sibling comes right after that. First of all I must point out that honestly, I would have called this “Calligraphy Chamomile & Tagetes”, because that’s precisely what I get out of this for the first couple of hours. An extremely pleasant, bracing and calming blend of resinous, honeyed floral notes with a peculiar sort of warm, “edible”, gently balsamic pollen-infused earthy-herbal feel with a slight sort of waxy-citric aftertaste – which is more or less what I refer to as “chamomile” (say, a steamy cup of honeyed, bergamot/rose-infused chamomile). There is saffron, too, but to me it acts more as a subtle enhancement of the spicier, more aromatic side of the blend. It’s surely not the most prominent note for me, but it’s there.

The color of the juice and the label reflect the smell quite well: all that gold, yellow and ochre – that’s how Calligraphy Saffron smells, in “synesthetic” terms. It’s exotic, elegant, soothing and almost “meditative” with its sense of golden, peaceful floral-resinous warmth, just with the right balance of thickness and dryness – the dryness mostly coming from a discreet, austere and kind of smoky accord of light leather and vetiver providing a thin, yet quite perceivable and perfectly fit “dark” and dry base tinged with a whiff of rose powder. All works just perfect: a simple composition, rich in depth more than notes, with seemingly great quality and a really desirable presence on skin – it’s long-lasting, not overly sweet (actually, considering the notes, it’s barely sweet), pleasantly linear with a slow transition towards a drier, smokier, unexpectedly more balsamic woody-resinous-leathery scent, with the right projection (more on the discreet side). If I had to mention a flaw, it would be a slightly excessive sense of restraint; personally, I would have wished something a bit more “opulent”. It’s a rich scent, but a bit too tamed down to express its richness at its best. But however, it’s great. I didn’t try the black-label “original” Calligraphy scent, but both Rose and Saffron are definitely two really great pieces of Oriental perfumery which I wouldn’t have expected from Aramis. Totally worthy the price.


8/10

Eau Sauvage Fraîcheur Cuir by Christian Dior (2007)

Nose: François Demachy

I have never been an enthusiastic fan of all Eau Sauvage versions and flankers, I only love the vintage classic Eau Sauvage and the recent Extreme version from 2010. This Fraîcheur Cuir is a rare and apparently rather neglected flanker which I barely heard about sometimes in then past, I assume also because it was a discontinued limited edition, and now that I got a bottle of it, I can see why it wasn’t apparently that successful. In fact, for being released in 2007, it smells extremely, amazingly close to the vintage version of classic Eau Sauvage, just – as the name says – with an elegant shade of thin, dry leather. That’s it, so the name is perfectly fit: it’s Eau Sauvage at its best, it’s fresh (with a slight, almost unperceivable but well-fitting sort of watery-ozonic vibe at first), and it has leather. All in the most respectable quality you can imagine. As simple as it gets: bracing and pungent at first, slightly more herbal than classic Eau Sauvage maybe (L’Homme de Grès kind of vibrant, pungent green bitterness), gently surrounded by a dry, dark, mannered and austere frame of dry leather, just tinged with a hint of powderiness (lavender, I assume), distantly reminding of some leathery feminine chypres. Simple, but fantastic. An amazing time capsule with a modern vibe, probably too elegantly nostalgic to find its way in nowadays’ market, and a precious and sophisticated homage to Dior’s golden era. Quite worth the price.

8/10

Eau de Cèdre by Armani (2015)

Meeeh...

Oddly similar to a sort of fresher flanker of Cerruti 1881 Amber meets Declaration and Armani Eau de Nuit at first, Eau de Cèdre opens with a blast of acrid, desperately artificial notes of cardamom, musk, cedar, a subtle generic soapy-floral accord, a light sort of depressing musky synthetic leather (Essence de Cerruti style), something smooth and lavender-like, amber, and a conventional head accord of mandarine-infused citrus notes. The composition itself wouldn’t be that bad, as it’s basically a refurbished classic “eau de cologne” structure with a contemporary touch (suede, powdery amber), but the quality of the notes – of any note here – is really, really too mediocre to make some sense. There’s a heavy feel of uninspired cheapness and flatness all over which makes Eau de Cedre smell as refined and interesting as a crippled emergency cone. It doesn’t stink but I don’t really see why one should look for this – maybe for the drydown, which is slightly better and pleasantly smooth (to the point of being worthy the wait and the nonsense first phases? No, not really). Armani fragrances have never been the state-of-the-art of perfumery, but this falls quite among the worst ones for me.

5/10

Icon by Dunhill (2015)

Nose: Carlos Benaim

Finally something able to stand up to Dunhill’s reputation. They aren’t Kilgour or Anderson & Sheppard, but they definitely deserve better than that Custom, Black, Xcentric rubbish they’ve been releasing for the past dozen of years or so. Icon finally marks some difference, starting from the bottle, a heavy – and I mean, physically hell heavy – piece of great design, not some usual random glass bottle with some lousy chrome-plastic cap. Coming to the juice inside it, well... it isn’t a groundbreaking fragrance and it doesn’t aim to be so – except for the vaguely megalomaniac name, but it’s surely miles above the abovementioned mediocrity which Dunhill has been getting us used to for the past years. Nothing overly exciting, but it’s good.

Basically Icon is an elegant, clean and laid-back everyday fragrance built on a conventional, yet always pleasant structure of classy neroli – that means a zesty mandarin note tinted with some floral-leafy muskiness – blended with cardamom, lavender, crisp woods, tangy peppery notes (I smell quite a bold note of juniper too) and a subtle sort of smooth, dusty, slightly sweet vibe all over, which I guess may be due to musk, tea (as usual, a generic sort of mellow sugary-green note), some amber and a touch of powder, well contrasting the fresh head notes. A fresh, spicy-floral and orange-y take on a “barbershop” scent with a really enjoyable soapy freshness. At first, as other reviewers mentioned, it smells a bit like Declaration due to the initial blast of cardamom on a fresh, aromatic “eau de cologne” base, just with a sharper and fresher feel; then it slowly becomes woodier and slightly soapier, with a warm and slightly smoky base keeping the distinguished “mature” vibe going on, also adding a whiff of synthetic leather.

I agree with the reference to Terre d’Hermès and similar scents (just a bit more floral and muskier, and with some richer neroli instead of some more ordinary citrus), but I also think the tart, bracing sort of brightness which persists all over Icon’s life on skin reminds me of Guerlain Homme, especially the radiant Eau Boisée flanker. Finally, I think Icon may sit also somewhere near the current version of Eau Sauvage, just in generic terms of “family”. With these names on the table, you get the picture: it won’t surprise and amaze you, but the quality is good – and that’s the point – and the fragrance smells crisp, compelling, long-lasting and refined, with a persistent, really pleasant feel of clean elegance. Mature and youthful at once, fresh, long-lasting but discreet enough to be perfect for any situation – from the office, to a date. A respectable and unpretentious candidate for a “signature scent”, surely ending straight on top of Dunhill offerings for men – it didn’t take that much for that, though.

The only “con” I would mention is an annoying synthetic, slightly sweet woody-ambery-powdery base... thing, which I get in every, and I mean every single masculine fragrance manufactured by Interparfums. I don’t know what that is, probably some of their standard bases, but at some point on the drydown, here it is – Interparfums’ signature, like a thief signing his robberies. It’s not tragic, that note/base I mean – but a bit cheap, flatly plastic. And Icon didn’t deserve that. But well, it’s nice anyway, and Benaim did a respectable job. The official retail price seems a bit too high for me, but you already find some discounted bottles here and there – at half the price, it’s perfectly worthy the purchase for me.

7/10

Colonia Club by Acqua di Parma (2015)

I normally review anything I get my nose on on Basenotes, Fragrantica and Parfumo, reserving my blog for the most interesting stuff - either really good, really bad, or really new. This is really new and that's the only reason I'm posting the review here, as otherwise it wouldn't really deserve any particular attention.

The opening of Colonia Club strikes me as an overpriced, apparently fancier but still quite cheap fragrant version of the almighty Proraso shaving cream, with that classic minty-citrus-woody blast rounded by a musky soapy feel. I mentioned Proraso but you can name any other popular, proletarian-to-middle-class old school green shaving cream/aftershave, mostly the ones in fashion in Italy and Central Europe from the Sixties on. The balsamic mintiness is quite powerful at first in Colonia Club, and I admit its realistic, nose-tingling, pore-unclogging vibrancy is quite enjoyable. But once that phase ends in a matter of minutes, all you remain with is a decent, mannered, really classic (and that’s good) desperately mediocre (and that’s bad) clone of a clone of any of the countless clones of any “classic green fragrances” from post-war aftershaves to Ralph Lauren Polo, Vidal’s Pino Silvestre or dozens of obscure “Aguas” from the Eighties, stuffed with synthetic musk with a whiff of carnation and green-earthy notes. Don’t get me wrong, Colonia Club smells linearly and flatly decent, but countless of other fragrances and aftershaves do this same exact job at a fraction of its price. As for many other Acqua di Parma fragrances, I don’t really see the quality gaps or benefits justifying the cost.

5/10

My Queen by Alexander McQueen (2005)

Nose: Anne Flipo and Dominique Ropion

I’ve known this fragrance for quite a while, but I only had a microscopic dab sample which wasn’t really enough for a review. Now I finally managed to get a full bottle and bath in this, finally having the chance to explore it better. My first and last word on this: amazing. My Queen by Flipo and Ropion smells and wears just amazingly good – perfect quality, perfect composition constantly floating between dynamism, liveliness and quiet elegance. It’s opulent, but graceful and mannered, a sort of subtle opulence slowly, but consistently revealing itself as hours pass – like a “slow-release” potion.

All iris-violet-heliotrope fans can’t really miss this, as it’s basically a triumph of that triad. Iris, violet, heliotrope, almonds, a hint of neroli and a perfect, Guerlain-esque (masculine) base of woods smelling crisp and clean enough to tone down the “heaviness” of the main notes and keeping My Queen weightless and unisex enough, if not almost masculine, perfectly balancing freshness and powderiness. Spices concur to this too, as there is some clever, really subtle cumin-pepper that adds just the right tangy “sparkle” to the floral accord, and so does musk – which is quite subtle here, but helps in tilting the balance to the unisex side. And finally orange blossoms, which add a perfect, delicate hint of tart, slightly creamy citrus leafiness, again helping in taming down the power of the iris-gourmand heart of My Queen.

But most of all it’s all about iris, which has here a fantastic, extremely sophisticated talc texture that I really haven’t found anywhere so far. It smells powdery and slightly “lipstick” buttery, realistic and high-quality to say the least, but if feels like they did a fantastic precision job in toning down any possible “dirty” or heavy facet of iris, or anyway any excessive thickness, making it smell dusty and impalpable. Not light, though; it is vibrant and substantial to say the least, just with a transparent substance effortlessly blending with its “pastel” sibling – Parma’s violets – and with both almond/heliotropin’s sweet and floral-pasty texture, and the sharp, crisp woody base. The drydown – which is refinedly persistent for quite some hours - feels predictably a bit more woody, dusty and less “plushy”, with a really pleasant iris/violet-infused fresh vetiver and cedar accord paired with a zesty, and again slightly creamy orange blossoms-musk nuance (a bit similar to the drydown of Dior Homme, just a bit “more violet”). If you’re familiar with the (few) nicest works by Ropion you can imagine how good this smells.

My Queen is quite complex if you dig deep exploring how magnificently they blended and crafted the notes, but the final result smells smooth, simple, irresistibly refined. And contrary to what you may think from the notes, really versatile and easy to wear – for men too. It can enhance any mood and any outfit, thanks to how perfectly they handled the several facets of iris, a flower that can smell “innocent” and “luscious” at once. And it projects clearly without being heavy. Pure heaven with an outstanding quality and (back when it was available) a cheap price – the discontinued prices of today are still completely acceptable for this quality anyway, as it’s really fragrant gold. Some broad comparisons may be Galliano EDP from 2008, a hypothetical less gourmand, iris-centered version of Villoresi’s Teint de Neige, or a sort of dreamier, more powdery-pastel flanker of Dior Homme. A sophisticated, amazing mood-uplifting unisex wonder.

9/10

Sauvage by Christian Dior (2015)

Nose: François Demachy

My expectations for Sauvage weren’t extremely low, but neither that high for sure. I was convinced it was probably better than the undeserved skepticism it seems getting here and there from fragrance snobs, but nothing groundbreaking for sure. Now that I’ve finally snatched a sample, I must say it quite reflects the idea I had about it – and actually, it is slightly better than I expected. First of all, in broad terms, it is probably right to consider this the first “Dior’s Bleu de Chanel” (or name another fragrance like that), as the league is more or less the same; but contrary to Bleu de Chanel (and most of similar scents), besides showing a clearly better quality, Sauvage avoids any boring, pretentious, preppy middle-class mannerism and adds a subtle touch of pungent vibrancy, of “rawness” as the name suggests. It is in fact a compelling contemporary take on a classic green fougère theme, opening with a bracing, peppery, crisp green-bergamot accord with a peculiar sort of “cedrat” heart, something bitter and earthy that provides a really nice sort of musky-sour shade to the crisp, fresh leafiness of the main accord. And then there’s a subtle, yet deep base of synthetic ambergris enhanced by some generic woods – “generic” means here nothing smelling overly cheap, but surely not the greatest woody notes around.

So imagine a quite classic and apparently mannered green masculine scent centered on pepper, citrus notes and dry ambery woods with some mossy patchouli lingering below, and give it a modern shape with an exotic, and slightly sombre touch halfway “organic” and “futuristic” (thanks to the cleverly-fitting warm and “grey” note of ambroxan). I must note that Sauvage feels quite much dry throughout its evolution, which I guess may be taken as a “masculine” added value, and also shows a pleasantly nondescript sort of dark, bitter-fizzy feel with a Mediterranean vibe, which reminds me of the balmy smell of air on a cloudy day in some woodland by the sea. Quite some interesting contrasts, overall: dryness, bitterness, warmth. So, again: an office-safe scent for sure, but in no way cheap or uncreative. Nothing exciting, but nothing bad to say the least. It just offers the right tiny amount of creativity within a “pop”, crowdpleasing frame. I think Demachy did quite a nice job in creating a deceptively generic fragrance with some sparkles of dark rawness. And I also appreciate the fact Sauvage smells really simple overall, almost minimalistic composition-wise, and with no overly cheap nuances. Simply put, it smells nice and it isn’t boring at all. As hours pass the ambroxan-woody-patchouli base takes the main stage, making Sauvage smell darker, warmer, dustier, more (again, “generically” ) classy and less bitter, with also some (good!) vetiver popping out. Still quite dry but at the same time quite comforting and sophisticated.

To cut it short, I think this is a good fragrance, quite more peculiar than it may seem at a first rushed test, and I think it is fully justified for Dior to have something like this among their range. Not everything has to be creative, or flashy, or (more or less faithfully) luxury or make some “statement”. Sauvage is a quality, discreet everyday scent with a seducing dark-organic twist and a nice evolution, smooth enough to appeal classic wearers but quality enough to be worthy a sniff for everybody else, including niche-heads. And it would surely be a mistake to dismiss this too early labelling it mediocre or cheap, since it isn’t either of the two. I probably wouldn’t buy this, but I’m glad Dior introduced it.

7-7,5/10