Underrated cheapos: R by Revillon (1995)

Nose (apparently): Maurice Roucel

R by Revillon is indeed the little gem one may assume by reading the reviews. I still haven’t clear what makes it so nice, but well, it is. Basically it is a really clean, pleasantly conventional, decidedly 1990’s scent with a touch of distinction and a truly respectable quality. For this price, I’d dare to say this is probably the best “bang for the buck” you’ll ever find. This is a perfectly compelling and quite remarkable “true fragrance” with the price of a shitty deodorant. A smooth masculine fragrance revolving around crisp woods, tart herbs, a hint of smooth leather, an Oriental spicy accord, a subtle and terribly pleasant sweet-powdery note, something resinous and slightly green (green I mean here “pine” green) floating on the background providing a sort of watery-balsamic feel. Perfect subtle barbershop-like drydown, woody and slightly powdery with still a hint of classy leather. Overall R ranges from balsamic to spicy and woody, mostly focusing on delivering a feel of “ balmy effortless cleanliness”. This places it among the great masculine classics meant for men to splash generously after a shave or a shower: nothing avantgarde, nothing overly “sexy”, nothing meant to rule the club and steal the ladies to other ill-scented boys. Just something to smell good – in its highest meaning - and elegant, echoing Hardy Amies’ golden rule of mens’ elegance (“a man should look as if he has bought his clothes with intelligence, put them on with care and then forgotten all about them”). Which is by no means something “easy” to accomplish, and that’s what makes R by Revillon a precious little gem. If Roucel really composed this, well, no surprise. Revillon deserves all respect for making such a nice scent at such a honest price. Probably my irrelevant final mark is higher than it should, but who cares, I can’t help loving and supporting the ridiculously cheap price and the understated attitude of this fragrance.

8/10

Pierre Guillaume: La Collection Croisière (2015) - Part I

Among the boatloads of crap I've tested at the Esxence tradeshow a month ago or so, I wasn't able to give a proper sniff to this new line by the unnecessarily prolific French perfumer Pierre Guillaume. I've got the samples later from a friend. Here's my take on the first 4 scents of the line - other 4 will land in perfume shops around September, a "Part II" relating to this post will hopefully come by then (I briefly smelled them at Esxence and I only recall a hilariously bad leather-asphalt scent).

Jangala

And here’s the only other decent scent from this half-baked new line by Pierre Guillaume (the other was Long Courrier – which I honestly prefer way over this, see below). Straight to the point, Jangala is decent at least for the first couple of hours, for two main and kind of obvious reasons: it smells nice until it can, and it is fairly creative. If making a “creative rewriting” of tropical-aquatic clichés was the aim of this new line, Jangala almost made it. Definition-wise this would be in my opinion a sort of green-fruity-woody scent with a mineral-watery texture, like pretty much any other of this line, but this and Long Courrier are basically the only ones able to add something to it - something I can’t honestly define. I think it simply “works” and succeeds in avoiding any “tropical shower gel/sun cream” effect. There is a bitter-sweet juxtaposition going on which makes Jangala really intriguing at first: something lightly sugary, plushy and pleasantly creamy (coconut, sandalwood) perfectly coexisting with a fresher, sharper, slightly pungent balsamic-citric sour top accord, both embracing a cozy and exotic “tropical” blend of ginger, herbs (that olive leaves thing), something floral, woods and fruity notes (I guess still coconut and the rest of the pyramid) with a decided ozonic-metallic and weightless “glassy” vibe that keeps it all on the fresh-watery and “grey-azure” side. Nothing overly exotic or weird, as it nearly reminds me of some ginger-woody masculine designers (from Envy to YSL L’Homme) with a brighter, coconut-balsamic-breezy twist. But still, fun and fascinating overall.

Besides working fine, I also like how Guillaume managed to keep the blend seemingly natural making a clever use of materials, at least for the initial phase (long enough to convince retailers and distributors at tradeshows to get some stocks, I guess). Sadly though, all of that you just read works for me for a couple of hours, before Jangala starts collapsing into a sort of cheaper, harshly pungent citronnel-infused woody-ozonic-herbal drydown now showing the actual quality of some components (in other words, smelling a bit more openly synthetic and flat). Still not completely bad, but well... Surely worse than it seemed at first for me. Despite this, personally I would still consider Jangala an interesting, decently creative and almost solid “watery balsamic coconut cocktail” with a disappointing – not hideous, just disappointing - drydown. Still surely among the best you can get in this genre – just keep reapplying it and avoid the crap drydown.

6,5/10

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Paris Seychelles

To cut it short, Paris Seychelles lazily and mutely follows the endless, cheaper line of green-white floral scents with a “milky sun cream” vibe, starting from Jil Sander’s Sun, ending with any 0,99 pennies sun cream. That’s it, and it adds nothing to that: the floral notes smell boringly “white” with no particularly features of interest, the same for coconut and the green notes. Flat, cheaply glossy, annoyingly plastic. I’d rate this higher if it wasn’t for its hilariously pretentious price, but I can’t really judge fragrances “per se” without taking into account the cost. This costs 160 EUR while it’s rather something a tasteless Texan lady with a penchant for “Fràààànce” may actually buy at the Seychelles - for 10 EUR at the local airport’s duty free with a complimentary daisy chain.

4,5/10

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Entre Ciel et Mer

The name fits the scent, in the least fascinating meaning possible. There is indeed a salty aquatic base, and there is a decided “airy” breezy-green feel well completed by pastel, slightly creamy notes of fruits and something musky similar to ambergris. I also get some floral notes which I don’t see in the composition, like ylang and lys, but maybe they’re just some side-nuances of some whatever aromachemicals have been used here. The problem for me is that, briefly put, anything here in my opinion smells flat, synthetic and uninspired. By this I mean – and I really mean that, no exaggeration – that I personally smell no big difference with any “sea-fruity-floral” shower gel or deodorant, to any extent; the notes, the concept, the composition, the quality on skin. This is precisely more or less what pretty much any “insert cheap sea-exotic name here” shower gel leaves on your skin. Up to you to decide if the 150 eur price gap is enough to justify a bit more sillage and longevity.

4,5/10

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... and yes, after all, we've a winner:

Long Courrier

Easily the nicest scent for me among these four new offerings of “La Collection Croisière” by Guillaume, together with Jangala. For three main reasons: it smells nice, quality, and creative. Basically Long Courrier is a really peculiar sort of talc-powdery “fresh” gourmand with a salty-aquatic texture, which manages to blend brilliantly all the nicest features of all these diverse inspirations; the dusty, nutty and masterfully tamed down sweetness of a gourmand (mostly cacao here) which bears also a really light sort of boozy-almondy note, then an evocative and totally compelling watery-aquatic feel, and cozy talc-amber-floral powderiness which connects Long Courrier to the great tradition of Oriental powdery scents, from Villoresi’s Teint de Neige to Kenzo Jungle l’Elephant, with a subtle “guerlinade” underneath providing an elegant touch of classicism to the overall laid-back “sunny exoticism” of this scent. Now imagine this, with a truly remarkable watery texture that is basically limited to an aqueous-salty-musky note, subtle but more than enough to change the entire mood and bring in a “seaside” feel, pleasantly refreshing the musky-powdery-gourmand side. And giving it a truly unique look. The whole blend smells really classy, much distinctive and cleverly composed, and it also shows a really nice evolution which slowly brings Long Courrier to a woodier, drier territory. The sillage is quite discreet, which is good, but the persistence seems a bit too short for me. Still overpriced for me even taking into account it is a nice scent, but bottle-worthy in case of (massive) discounts.

7,5/10

Rive Gauche pour Homme by Yves Saint Laurent (2003)

Nose: Jacques Cavallier

Like Turin wrote in his guide, “it took guts to come out with an aromatic fougère in 2003”: it did, indeed, as Rive Gauche pour Homme is truly a jump into the Seventies. Not a “rewritten tribute”, but a veritable, extremely elegant and pleasantly pedantic aromatic fougère exactly as they made (plenty of) them thirty years ago. Something I like to see as a proud and shameless slap to contemporary trends, which is admirable from such a big important company. It makes a statement, which at that level of visibility, may truly mean something. While I usually can’t stand fragrances - especially niche - which are “inspired by” and/or plain rip off chypres and fougères but they try to conceal that by acting new, “cool”, “luxury” and avantgarde as if they were ashamed of smelling derivative, too simple and “too outdated” as they do, I can’t help but appreciating an open and genuine operation like this. There’s a big difference in fact. Rive Gauche pour Homme is the quintessence of nostalgic simplicity, smelling and looking openly outdated, declaring it loud and proud. Many other companies still produce very classic fragrances, but to launch a new one, again – “it takes guts”.

All here is a true time capsule from the past, from the fragrance itself to the unpretentious, functional and almost cheap-looking bottle which looks like a drugstore shave foam can out of the 1970’s. The fragrance, anyway: lavender, anise, green herbs, woods, oak moss, patchouli, carnation, a nephew of Azzaro pour Homme looking and acting exactly like his hero uncle, just younger. The skin is softer and paler, the voice is still a bit juvenile, everything’s more light-hearted and livelier, but the face, the look, the style, it’s all the same. This is Rive Gauche pour Homme: a fougère which combines a lighter modern look, an overall obvious “fresher” feel due to its young age (I mean lacking in the “vintage” feel caused by the aging of the juice), with a vintage quality. It doesn’t aim at be a masterpiece, and in fact it isn’t, but it’s an extremely pleasant and stylish fragrance retrieving the true purpose of a man’s perfume – smell good, confident, mannered, masculine. Dry and dark as most of classic men’s fougères, but the “aromatic” side comprising powdery-floral notes of lavender and anise keeps it bright enough. Obviously a nostalgic redundant product thirty years late on its reference trend, but totally irresistible. The Kaspar Hauser of fragrances.

8/10

Guerlain Homme L'Eau Boisée by Guerlain (2012)

Nose: Thierry Wasser

Yes, this Guerlain Homme series is definitely the last great Guerlain’s series for men. While the Intense flanker is just near pure perfection, this Boisée is more contextualized into a “summer-fresh” cluster, so perhaps it’s slightly less versatile and less “fascinating” than that; but still, it perfectly keeps and even enhances some facets of the unsurpassed quality of Homme and Homme Intense. So, this is a summer scent: easily among the most sophisticated ones you can get in today’s mainstream market. The only “competitors” I would find would be either some good classics (but lacking in some “contemporary twist”) or maybe some Hermès... but while they tend to be more unisex and lighter, this Eau Boisée feels bolder and with a more decided masculine shade. The clever elegance with which Wasser kept the “masculine” rhum note giving it a summery vibe thanks to mint and herbal notes is brilliant, so is also the tremendously enjoyable vetiver grass note – which is vetiver, but with a twist; grassy, kind of anisic, slightly citrusy, irresistibly natural and bracing. I perfectly get the comparison with Terre d’Hermès many reviewers suggested online, and maybe there wouldn’t have been any L’Eau Boisée without that, but honestly, there’s really no game for me. L’Eau Boisée smells far more crisp, natural, invigorating and complex than Terre. There’s surely something synthetic going on here too, but to my nose this smells so bright and natural. It feels golden, and it feels stereo. And plus however there’s a couple of differences; this Boisée is grassier, greener, more peppery, slightly smokier, and with a boozy note. Utter class, utter quality, utter skills. An effortless summer gem.

8,5/10

Fahrenheit Absolute by Christian Dior (2009)

Nose: François Demachy

Flowers out of black asphalt. It wasn’t surely easy to come up with a successful flanker of such a pillar as Fahrenheit, but this Absolute version, well, “absolutely” nails it. The connection with Fahnrenheit is as much subtle as clear in fact: the same sort of oil-leather accord, that “asphalt” terpenic note, is here too. But with a definitely charming and kind of more “modern-transparent” twist: less leathery and more rubbery, silkier, cozier, more mellow, with a tremendous powdery accord of violet (and lavender?) which adds a sprinkle of talc to Fahrenheit’s signature darkness. The darker side of Absolute is the main connection with the original version, but it’s still quite different enough to be appreciated as a different fragrance. First of all it’s not as deep and overwhelming as in Fahrenheit, and as I said is also less centered on leather and more on a synthetic, smoky oud note (more rubbery smoke than oud, actually); plus it’s overall far more discreet, velvety, refined, with an almost “liturgical” vibe underneath. It may be resins or something quite close to incense, but I do get an intimate, kind of meditative dark feel out of this Absolute. Still with a really modern, kind of “retro-futuristic” pungent metallic nuance. And soapy shades. Simple but fantastic, a truly remarkable modern take on a classic. With a really enjoyable “whiter” drydown, powder on black rubber. The name of this flanker is definitely misleading; one may expect a thicker, bolder version of Fahrenheit, while this is a rather gentler and way smoother version of it. Darker, in a more subtle way – quiet, gloomy and smoky. By no means I would consider duller or simpler than the original Fahnreheit, though; just a really creative different version of it, maybe a bit more sophisticated, meditative, somehow more shady and ambiguous. Extremely fascinating and great to wear, and above all, with the same distinctive creativity that made Fahrenheit beyond unique.

8-8,5/10

New niche line: Room 1015 (2015)

Another new niche line I've discovered at Esxence tradeshow in Milano, Italy. Unlike another couple of winners (Unum and Angela Ciampagna), this is quite a meh for me. Sort of uninspired hipster, wannabe-rebel stuff with very little to say - to me, at least.

Atramental

Basing on the press release, Atramental shall be meant at evoking a “tattoo parlour”. The smell of ink and blood-stained latex gloves, bandages, pomades, rubber and plastic, the noise of the tattooing machines, the “rebel attitude” mood. I happen to be a tattoo enthusiast pretty much constantly craving for all of that, so I am perfectly familiar with that world and those suggestions. But even making an effort to link Atramental to that, I can’t help but thinking this scent has very little to do with it. Just a shallow, kind of cliché-sque connection to tattoing – “black rubberiness” as any copywriter would imagine by googling “tattooing”, and that’s all. And, anyway, press releases and “concepts” aside... things don’t get really that better. Atramental is basically a rubbery-balsamic leather-vetiver scent with some floral notes, maybe a sprinkle of musk (and oud?) and a clean, synthetic texture, as much wearable and really mildly enjoyable as kind of a massive déja-vu. Pretty much like a hipster version of some Montale’s crossed with some self-considered “avantgarde” niche brands like nu_be, both aiming at making a cheaper ripoff of a hypothetical “Fahrenheit Absolute by Comme des Garçons”. Ok, that looks entangled, but basically that would be the genre: “plastic” darkness, polished rubbery refinement, salty synthetic musky-dusty-woody base, a sprinkle of ambery dust. Not bad, this meaning not (overly) cheap, but utterly negligible for me, especially at that price.

5/10

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Blomma Cult

My guess, or better, how this smells under my nose at the opening: vanillin (and vanillin and vanillin), amber, citrus, powdery violet, cloves, cinnamon, maybe something like heliotrope – a kind of dry, floral, powdery-dusty-beeswax note - and clean musky lavender (or lavendery musk, you choose). Spicy, musky and powdery shortly, with a pungent juicy head accord of citrus and, I guess, the “higher-pitched” nuances of cinnamon. Kind of a “white-yellow” scent initially, somehow thick yet rather “modern” where modernity means synthetically (and slightly “cheaply”) plain and plastic. The smell overall ranges from pungent nuances to camphorous-floor cleaner tones, via a juicy core of something smelling halfway a spicy cheesecake, wet laundry and mosquito repellent. Once the tart-fresher head notes vanish, Blomma slowly drifts towards a frankly nicer powdery-spicy drydown; cinnamon, cloves, “lipstick” violet and musk take the stage, together with a hint of dry patchouli. Still a bit unpleasantly synthetic – by “unpleasantly” I mean that to me, this smells too synthetic to be satisfyingly realistic, but not synthetic enough to be “avantgarde”. Just some shy, halfway synthetic nowhere clumsily undecided about which polar opposite to emulate – whether trying to smell “good and realistic” of play the “plastic and futuristic” card. Anyway, my description may make this sound crap, but it isn’t that bad; just quite tending on the cheap chemical side, so hence my “supermarket products” references. The drydown is even passably nice, actually. As regards of the inspiration – not the actual quality – echoes here seem to range from Helmut Lang’s EDC, to many spicy-powdery scents of the 1990s-early 2000s, to a veritable shitload of citrus-powdery colognes, via Shalimar’s drydown, Dior Homme, and something of Buxton’s style and favourite notes. A negligible “synthetic contemporary scent” way late on the trends; not bad as I said, but I personally don’t see any point of interest.

5,5-6/10

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Electric Wood

Here’s some good old cedramber galore, stuffed with mellow cashmeran and dusted with ambrette, citrus and something powdery, like violet (iris? Come on!). Name nearly any mainstream woody-citrus-amber fragrance from the 2000s on; Electric Wood won’t be far from that. Neither better nor worse. Plastic woods, dusty amber, a sprinkle of lemon, ambroxan, a shade of silky powder. From Chopard Noble Cedar to Terre d’Hermès and/or pretty any other recent designer "crisp woody" scent, that’s the family. Polished, synthetic-smelling, extremely déja-vu. Not unpleasant but a joke for the price and the naive “indie rebel” pretenses.

5,5/10

Guerlain Homme Intense by Guerlain (2009)

Nose: Thierry Wasser

Guerlain Homme Intense is one of those scents which seem deceptively “generic”, while instead scream quality and class like a very few others. All is quality for me here: the materials, the composition, the evolution. Still keeping it incredibly versatile and crowdpleasing. You can enjoy a crisp office scent without caring about its subtle superb quality, or you can dive into it and amaze yourself with Guerlain’s heritage on display – because, yes, Guerlain Homme Intense still belongs to “the great Guerlain’s” (unlike, for instance, L’Homme Idéale). Citrus, bergamot, bracing mint and its floral counterpart – geranium, other floral notes, bitter grass, a crunchy rhubharb note, a drop of rhum, sharp cozy woods. Dozens of mainstream green-woody perfumes feature these same notes, but what once was “the Guerlain treatment” brings them all up to another level here. Which is the real of pure understated elegance. You just have to smell this to get what I mean. It’s a matter of radiance, richness, a perfect balance of realisticness, deepness and “polished” cleanliness. Then, all nuances are just so deep and sparkling, morphing and evolving under your nose, in a subtle but totally perceivable way.

Homme Intense starts with a bracing, invigoranting and fresh slap of citrus, mint and grassy notes, then slowly revealing a warmer heart of rhum, geranium, pepper and woods, slowly drifting to an incredibly refined drydown which features a throwback in time – a really old-school, top notch quality smoky-salty vetiver note. Which is dry and woody, but perfectly enriched by rhum and made greener by a nondescript sort of bracing grassy-floral accord. All – I mean, all! – of these notes, try to imagine them in the best quality and crispness possible, blended together in a bright, cozy blend fitting you like a bespoke suit. Pure delight. The texture is clean and transparent, mostly green-woody with a slightly more unusual palette of nuances – rhum, rhubarb, a slight earthy-vegetable feel reminding me of good old Coriolan... Everything is perfectly safe and classic, even slightly formal, yet perfectly contemporary, as an everyday fragrance for “the modern elegant men” is meant to be. Fresh and sensual. This is my idea of modern luxury in a bottle; high quality and discreet elegance – and don’t have me started speaking about quality versus price, ‘cause the price of Guerlain Homme Intense makes any other self-claimed “luxury” scent look more ridicoulous than they already are. The only flaw of this fragrance is that maybe it is... a tad really too “apparently-generic” to be appreciated as it deserves. If I was more presumptuous I would rate this “for connoisseurs only”, but – aside from being uselessly pretentious – that wouldn’t do justice to the versatility and the positive “crowdpleasing” nature of this fragrance. Just, don’t underrate this.

8-8,5/10

Rochas Man by Rochas (1999)

Nose: Maurice Roucel

If there’s a bunch of good masculine-to-unisex gourmands, Rochas Man would be surely in. And possibly be the uncle of them all. Two references come to mind as a comparison among dozens; Yohji Homme, and Thierry Mugler’s style. Rochas Man is just way more discreet, compelling and refined than most of Mugler’s offerings, yet less sophisticated, cold and “avantgarde” than Yohji. Still that would be the family more or less; a coffee-anisic gourmand top accord on a sort of crisp barbershop-powdery base comprising mostly lavender, sandalwood, spices, amber, a hint of bracing citrus. Two notes or accords stand out for me in particular: coffee and flowers. The smell of coffee here is quite remarkably executed: slightly sweet yet “roasted”, earthy, much aromatic, fairly “natural”, mellow and dark, perfectly blending with amber and woods. Slightly milky and vanillic too, as if it was meant to evoke a “cup” of coffee rather than coffee beans – so, say, a quite “urban” and civilised approach to coffee notes, still quite realistic and not that tackily plastic (take that, Mugler). On the other hand, “barbershop” and fougère-ish grassy flowers provide a silky, gentle frame of clean powderiness, bit of “freshly laundered shirt” vibe, providing some more classic “masculine cologne” feel. Woods and amber do the rest acting as a discreet, warm, slightly earthy frame with a hint of smooth leather. What would you ask more? Rochas Man is one of those clever, well-crafted scents that have them all: it’s versatile, it’s classy, it’s distinctive, it’s surely kind of a “youngster” but perfectly suitable for gentlemen; it’s bright and dark, it’s quite “daring” yet completely civilised and wearable. It’s a bold gourmand, but it’s composed in a way it stays elegantly warm and discreet on skin, stopping just a step before getting tacky - so don’t fear smelling like a candy. You’ll smell just unique. Good stuff.

8-8,5/10


EDIT: the review above was based on the later "version" (pink box, pink-ish juice). I now acquired an older bottle (wine plastic packaging, brown-ish juice) and if you're interested in a comparison, they're, say, 90% identical. The 10% is what makes the earlier version better; slightly less sweet, more smoky, more ambery, more "mature". It's a matter of subtle nuances but if you get the chance, my advise would be to prefer the earlier bottles.