Sadanne by Slumberhouse (2014)

A tough one to review. I wore this for one day and made a complete twist about this. From the very first sniff you clearly get some of the “signature” features of Slumberhouse’s scents, mostly the base Lobb seems to use for many fragrances: that sort of dark, medicinal boozy-ambery thickness, here with something animalic... but twisted in a complete different way than usual, pretty upsetting at first – and frankly hard to wear for the first minutes. Basically, Sadanne opens as a rotting lollipop: there’s all this fruity, jammy juiciness halfway raspberry bubblegums and cough syrups for children, juxtaposed to – or drowned in, I’d say – the “industrial Baroque” which characterizes Lobb’s world, the oily, deadly base rot which you get in most of his scents. The juxtaposition is daring and insolent, and quite messy at first: I admit I get a charming feel of creepiness, a sort of psychedelic, playfyl horrific decadence, like watching a Z-series splatter movie directed by John Waters. But at first I can’t really consider this something one would ever want to wear. There’s just... too much of everything – too sweet-juicish on one side, too rotting-dark on the other. Too powerful and cacophonic, which means almost repulsive. Nonetheless... with a little bit of patience, as hours pass Sadanne becomes more and more consistent, wearable, “harmonic” and compelling, reaching a really interesting substance.

It still remains a challenging clash between jamminess and gloominess, but all the notes and nuances kind of “melt” tuning on the same tone, reaching some sort of odd balance, like a chorus of freaks finally finding some harmony – a warm, medicinal, colourful shade of madness, completely nondescript, with a range of nuances from carnal to caramel. To me, a really innovative experiment which tries to rewrite the “fruity-jammy gourmand” in a filthy, gloomy light, a dirty “psychocandy” which I can’t not like – even only for the concept. And as I said, after a couple of hours it becomes even quite “easier”to wear, and frankly also rather pleasant and fun, more civilized than the opening phase – basically a sort of boozy-ambery civet topped with a bittersweet, sugary-fruity “dark” syrupy accord (think of Lutens for children). And a subtle powdery-musky undertone. And something smelling like blood. I would talk of... don’t know, “splatter pop Baroque”? Sadanne feels like an olfactive depiction of those tacky teen horror movies of the 1980s’ - Troma and friends. Just even more crazy – darker on one side, more childish on the other. Maybe hard to appreciate in its entirety, but really promising, intriguing, genuinely creative and different from the rest. Completely out of fashion and clichés. As Lobb often reformulates and fixes his scents, I am sure that a couple of fixes may make Sadanne a milestone for contemporary niche.


Furyo by Jacques Bogart (1988)

Straight to the point: a masterpiece. Furyo (vintage bottle here) is a hyper-modern, really peculiar and fascinating masculine chypre which can compared to, well, almost nothing else as far as I am concerned. In rough terms, the “family” as others already stated may be the one of the good old civet bombs, like Kouros or Ungaro II (and of Rabanne’s Ténéré too, to another extent): nonetheless, here you can find a couple of unique features which make Furyo completely standout, not making it necessarily “superior” but definitely different from any other scent. There is indeed a filthy, “urinous” civet heart, which however here is wrapped – and I would say, almost concealed – into an irresistible, warm, nondescript cradle made of rose, cinnamon, amber, lavender, herbs, woods (I get sandalwood more than vetiver); a soft Oriental blend which floats between sweet, bright, soapy, balsamic, dirty, spicy and dusty-resinous - almost with a beeswax note too. There is also a kind of dark fruity-candied feel, subtle but somehow “narcotic” and slightly decadent, really charming and much modern too (apparently Wasser is the nose behind this, and in fact, I get a slight sort of common ground with certain aspects of Dalì pour Homme, which he made as well the year before). The result, which as I said is quite nondescript, is an exceedingly alluring, mellow, intense and warm fragrance, with an outstanding quality to any extent: materials, balance, depth, composition. Quite hard to define, honestly, but basically: a sweet-spicy masculine chypre. But that really wouldn’t do justice to the beauty of Furyo. An irresistible harmony of nuances ranging from the decadent carnality of rose and carnation to the elusive warmth of spices and amber, from the soapy-aromatic cleanliness of lavender and herbs, to the filthy dirt of civet and oak moss. And then balmy notes, woods, sandalwood, something resinous-sweet (Rabanne’s Ténéré, again) ... thick and complex, incredibly rich, but perfectly harmonic, unique, easy to love. And not a powerhouse, meaning that despite it’s surely really powerful, I wouldn’t really place this close to the conventional, “hairy-chested”, slightly outdated and often a bit stern (not to say tacky) boldness of most powerhouses. Furyo is so much more creative, more refined, more complex, more modern than any of them. Really outstanding, smelling incredibly “new”, and so pleasant to wear.  Plus, the sillage is nuclear and the persistence is everlasting. One of those scents which may easily fit the niche market (I thought of Amouage for instance, if only they would be able to make something half beautiful as this).


Ameer Al Oudh by Lattafa Perfumes

My journey among cheap Arabian eau de parfums continues.

The first minutes of Ameer Al Oudh on skin are basically a blast of harsh alcohol, but once the scent “settles” on skin and blossoms up, it’s a woody oud beauty. One of the nicest mid-range oud-based eau de parfums I have ever tried (not taking into account oud oils, therefore, which are obviously just another experience). It’s a really simple scent, but exceedingly pleasant, well made, civilized and discreet enough to be perfect versatile and easy to pull off – contrary to other Arabian inexpensive fragrances, which sometimes are too powerful and a bit tacky. Ameer Al Oudh is an austere, and really “woody” oud, slightly sweetened by a roasted-sugar and vanillic base, a sprinkle of cinnamon and perhaps a hint of leather. It’s not a skanky-animalic barnyard oily oud, rather - like in M7 or Dior’s Leather Oud, it smells dry, woody, medicinal, smoky and slightly nutty, with just a hint of sweat, but nothing really challenging. Realistic and intense, and of a totally respectable quality as far as I can tell. Surely miles above the openly-synthetic oud notes like you find in many far more costly Western ouds. I am not an expert of oud, but here I definitely smell something woody, organic, thick, true to life. The price is ridicolous, I got a 100 ml bottle of this for 25 EUR shipped from Kuwait and it’s worthy every penny – actually it would be easily worthy double that price as well, considering the oud scents we’re used to in Europe and USA. It’s not a masterpiece but it’s solid, rich and classy, with just the right sillage (not a bomb, more on the discreet side) and a fantastic persistence, with even a nice evolution playing different chords as time pass (smoky, nutty, dark nuances), as you may expect with oud. Recommended!


La Collection Couturier Parfumeur: Leather Oud by Christian Dior

Year: 2010
Nose: François Demachy

Leather Oud opens with a dark and dry accord of woody oud – quite different from usual ouds, at least the Western ones (Montale etc.), really "woody" and smoky in fact, not rubbery and not synthetic – enhanced by more aromatic and softer woods (I feel sandalwood above all), an austere leather accord - a bit plastic but good, dark, "roasted" - well sweetened by beeswax and dry honey, tonka, a slight sugary note on the base, a tasty aroma of coffee and a subtle floral breeze all over. Smoky, gloomy, dry, subtly sweet yet subtly musky at the same time, really elegant and sophisticatedly modern, with a decent leather accord – sharp and restrained, but well executed, and with a compelling tanning richness showing class and substance. Effectively, despite being a designer, it smells more like a good example of a niche leather-woody scent. Frankly I don't smell much civet in here, and overall much animalic stuff at all; rather than civet, just a (sheer) synthetic reconstruction of this note, which creates a light feel of "animalicness" that however does not even compare to real animalic notes that can be largely found is several vintage chypres and fougères – to which, by the way, Leather Oud seems taking part of its inspiration from (while sniffing this one I though of Ferré, Krizia, Balenciaga...). Nothing amazing, but good - insanely priced good.


Forgotten gems: Lui by Rochas (2003)

By Michel Almairac & Amandine Marie. Gorgeous!

The “classic” citrus-woody masculine fragrances (what was once the original and only “eau de cologne”, shortly) have always been quite an issue for me. I respect them and most of them smell really nice for me, but (call me shallow) a really boring kind of nice. I never owned one, mostly because I always find them too light and inoffensive; more than proper “fragrances” as I like to enjoy them, they seem more toilet waters to splash on after a shower and forget about them. Something fresh and clean, and that’s it. Usually with a crap longevity, too. Nothing wrong with that; just not my cup of tea. Well, Lui by Rochas is finally the first citrus scent that amazes me instead – not only I like it, I am literally *amazed*. Briefly put, it is a sort of soapy, woody citrus scent with a dark amber-patchouli shade: from this description it may seem the most generic, demure and boring masculine designer ever, but on the contrary... well, for some reasons that I don’t get (I guess this is the “magic” which sometimes sets the difference between good scents and mediocre scents), it smells incredibly good. Irresistibly good, much (much!) more than it may seem. It has a really peculiar dense texture which makes it velvety, bold, sophisticated in a sort of sharper, more “self-conscious” way than most of other citrus-centered “barbershop” scents – which are often more understated. The “trick” here is probably the warm roundness of amber and the earthy darkness of patchouli, which blend together with a hint of vanillic dust to create a richer scenario for the formal and clean brightness of the citrus-woody (and slightly floral) notes. The result is this irresistibly distinctive, refined, pleasant scent: clean and cozy on one side, making it versatile and safe, but with creative and unusual darker nuances making it something more than that – a true statement of contemporary elegance. Perfect projection and fantastic longevity. Ridicolously good, criminally discontinued, grab it if you find one.


Amouage: some masculines

Memoir Man (2010)

One of the nicest frankincense openings on the market: bright, rich, deep, resinous, masterfully blended with bitter green leaves, citrus, something pungent and candied-fruity (like elemi), vetiver, sandalwood, and something on the base which reminds me of castoreum, although it may simply be the “side effect” of vanillin plus woods, leather and citrus notes. Genius touch of dark rose coming and going. A sophisticated hybrid halfway contemporary woody-incense scents like Gucci pour Homme I and resinous-brighter ones like Maria Candida Gentile Exultat, with discreet echoes of classic “barbershop” masculine colognes – mostly because of a soft, and kind of “dark” touch of earthy lavender. Utter pleasure: Memoir Man is a balsamic, refined and cozy gem, stylish and crowdpleasing without smelling dull, shallow or generic, at the same time showing a really peculiar a nondescript sort of “enigmatic” charm. Creative but totally safe, appealing and versatile. Perfect leathery-balsamic greenish drydown with a prominent vetiver-tobacco accord, mellow and again, totally classy, on darker balmy-mossy notes - keeping that abovementioned barbershop-fougère inspiration. Raw but civilized, shady and fascinating, and totally well made and solid... still unworthy the crazy price tag, but really nice.



Beloved Man (2013)

Beloved Man opens as a pleasant sort of contemporary aromatic-fresh fougère, a woody scent with spicy-floral notes, a green accord (not listed, but I do smell something herbal, balsamic and pine-y). I also get something like a soft, smooth and subtle leather note underneath. The opening is fresh and vibrant, with a nice head accord of round and fruity citrus and bergamot notes (and elemi, which is basically only a generic candied feel), well blended with cedar and the aromatic, salty earthiness of vetiver. In the middle, violet, amber, spices (cloves, cumin), perhaps other flowers. Amber and violet above all provide a cozy sense of mellow warmth. As other Amouage scents, it has an “expensive-smelling” radiant brightness, and is surely pleasant and refined, although also quite a bit synthetic (not in a good way). Plus, nothing really original: again, like other fragrances by this brand, it shows a quite evident inspiration from several late 90’s/early 2000s masculine mainstream scents. Moving on from the opening, once the fresher side tones down, it becomes a darker woody-spicy scent which to me seems pointing towards a couple of “golden-era” Gucci scents. Notably, underneath Beloved Man I feel a sort of faded ghost of Gucci pour Homme I; just fresher, a bit more flashy, and with more Iso E Super, but the "spiced pencil sharpener" is quite totally there. For a while, the similarity smells quite clear to me, then on the very drydown Beloved takes a (slightly) different direction, becoming a bit more dry, herbal, with a more nostalgic and austere feel. Not bad for sure, so keep it and treasure it if someone gifts it to you; but nothing really new and surely unworthy the insane price.



Journey Man (2014)

The opening of Journey Man is fantastic: a zesty, vibrant citrus-green accord with fresh herbs, pine needles, pungent spices (mostly juniper and pepper), a subtle fruity note on a velvety, shady tobacco-woody-leathery base – that common type of nowadays’ leather, glossy and “clean”, chemical and bright, yet mellow and pleasant, blending with tobacco to create a refined feel of black smoke well contrasting with herbs and citrus notes. This scent is peculiar indeed: it’s “black” and smoky on one side, but somehow it smells really crisp, bright and vibrant, almost radiant even if it’s mostly about "shady" notes. The feel is like going out dressed in black leather on a sunny spring day, with your dark outfit being enlightened by the sunrays and the azure sky. It also has a really clean look and texture, this meaning it smells quite simple and neat (not a flaw for me, as long as it smells good). Also, as many reviewers already noted, the connection to classics is evident, as Journey Man’s roots are clearly and strongly dating back to several leathery-smoky-herbal fougères, from Krizia to Eucris by Geo Trumper. The only thing I don’t enjoy is a slight but persistent sort of chemical-metallic aftertaste, but overall it’s really pleasant, especially for the first hour or so. Being quite linear, though, after a while it starts to smell a bit boring, losing a bit of the first-sniff “sensation”. Shortly a nice and well-executed tribute to an era, with a contemporary feel, undoubtedly good-quality ingredients and a solid composition. Sophisticated and “smelling expensive”, yet versatile, easy-going and safe all-year ‘round. The price is completely insane, but at least the scent smells nice, so you won’t regret it (that much).



Interlude Man (2012)

The structure of Interlude Man is of a classic leather-velvety fougère with herbal and incense notes (on the polished-synthetic-woody side), reminding me of other contemporary niche fougères for man like Fetish pour Homme by Roja Dove. Decent and pleasantly plain, and a bit derivative too, as it basically smells like the drydown of any leathery masculine scent from the '70s or the '80s, even if (obviously, I'd say) less powerful and compelling. Nonetheless, it is surely balanced and pleasant, the leather is refreshed by balsamic notes and softened by incense, green notes and a hint of amber - all a bit plain and synthetic to my nose to be honest, but pleasant, refined and classy ("it smells expensive", shortly). Given the pretenses and the price, it's just not that worth it in my opinion.



Jubilation Man (2008)

A jubilation indeed! Rich, balsamic, fruity, floral, masculine, dense, spicy... bittersweet tasty berries, foggy mist, honey, resins. Boozy vanilla drydown. A real circus of notes and accords, perfectly-balanced in a light-and-shadey, crisp and elegant scent, more consistent than one may think judging from the complex composition. Somptuous and sensual Oriental decadence at its best. Moderate projection and great persistency.



Fate for Man

Fate Man opens with pepper, cumin, immortelle, a sandalwood-cedar note (“sweet pencil sharpener”, basically), softened by a warm balsamic-ambery accord, resins, incense (nice, rich, dusty olibanum), sweet anisic-licorice notes and saffron, well blending with a tiny rose note. I also get tonka and vanilla on the base. Basically Fate Man is a warm and spicy balmy-woody scent with a powdery-sweet breeze, essentially built around the “pencil sharpener” woody accord played on a darker, spicier tone - earthy-boozy immortelle, incense, saffron, dark balmy notes. Soft, smoky, spicy. The drydown is a bit cheap in my opinion, it lasts long but showing some unpleasant sort of rubbery-petrol nuances. Fairly pleasant overall, but also a bit uninspired and “already-smelled” (think of any niche scent with woods and immortelle), plus with a couple of “plastic” nuances that in my opinion lower the overall quality. It’s nice, but among the safest and least fascinating Amouage masculine scents for me.


Lampblack by Bruno Fazzolari (2013)

Are USA indie brands the real future of "good" niche? Seems so.

A woody-leathery-citrus symphony with a ton of class. The wood here is dry, dark and rubbery, quite close to leather (hence my definition above), with a mellow smoky vetiver note and a “woodier” vein than usual, made drier and darker by cypriol (I guess). On the polar opposite, bright and astringent citric notes; in the middle, something peppery – I see black pepper listed but it seemed also a bit reddish to me - and bitter leafy notes. That’s it. It may sound ordinary, but it’s not, mostly because of its sort of really peculiar “angular” texture. The feel here is really sharp: the citrus notes are much bitter, the woods are particularly dark, sour and rubbery; but they’re all so precisely, elegantly juxtaposed that the whole thing smells perfectly sophisticated, classy, understated, solid and harmonic. It’s like a white and black constructivist piece of design – bold shapes and sharp angles, which can look messy and out of proportion until you find the perfect angles to juxtapose them. And here’s harmony, flawless beauty and class. Lampblack works similarly, in a way: a few contrasting notes, dark corners and light beams, all really “bold” in their own way, put together with elegance and sharp precision. The drydown is respectively more bitter on the green-citric side, and more roasted-rubbery and drier on the base line, which makes the woody vetiver notes smell even more close to leather. Perfect class, great evolution. Personally I find the drydown a tad too bitter-astringent and kind of “sweaty” after a while, but other than that, Lampblack is more than remarkable and surely worthy a try.


Separated at birth: Carbone de Balmain (2010) and Graphite by Montana (2011)

Same nose (Nathalie Lorson), same address on the boxes (4, place Wagram, Paris), same (good) quality.


Another really nice cheapo wort having. Kind of ambery and musky at first, with a heart of cedar, pepper and vetiver(ol) and just a hint of floral dark gracefulness. The general vibe is "trendy" yet also meditative, shady and "pencil sharpener" as other users correctly say - that is the prominent heart of this scent. Some waxy feel too. The fig, I don't get that much honestly: but perhaps it is what causes the slight "lactonic", sweetish creamy note I detect underneath the general woodiness, which blends perfectly with it. Overall much synthetic and "modern", so absolutely safe and elegant for anyone, but also quite distinctive in a way as it's darker and more peculiar than other "safe mainstream scents". I can't say I don't like this, as I find it the perfect example of a solid, unpretentious but quality scent: it does smell good... really good actually (my guilty pleasure: I quite like that "pencil" feel), it feels classy and versatile, it costs pennies. Basically no evolution, bold projection and really good persistence. Encre Noire fans or of other contemporary/dark/synthetic woody scents - from Gucci pour Homme I on, basically - will love this.


P.S. The bottle I own looks different from the one I posted above - the label on mine reads "Carbone de Balmain Paris". Not sure if that indicates the existence of 2 different formulations (but I doubt that, most likely it's just a matter of graphic restyiling)



A more dry, darker, woodier, kind of more austere version of Balmain's Carbone. Basically take out the subtle fruity-milky feel from Carbone, here you have Graphite. If you aren't familiar with Carbone, then well: "pencil sharpener", and that's it. Shavings, sawdust, wood chips, freshly-cut wood trunks. Nearly nothing else except for a warm ambery frame, and a gentle violet note, which is greenish, discreetly sweet and really subtle. Probably fairly pointless to own both Carbone and Graphite (as I do...), but Graphite is perfectly good as well: more than an inferior "copycat" it smells like a slightly different perspective on the same theme, worth having if you're really into this type of perfumes, or just have the chance to get both for pennies. In other words the quality and the "features" (projection, persistence, elegance, versatileness etc.) are quite the same in my opinion - except for the persistence, which is actually much better here. Solid, easy-going versatile stuff.


Azzaro pour Homme (1978)


Timeless. Not sure if it’s just an impression, but for some reasons I rarely see this mentioned among the “best masculines ever”, or at least among the best classic fougères – the more elegant and higher quality ones. Perhaps because of the subsequent decrease of Azzaro’s quality (Chrome flankers and the likes), or its excessively “functional” bottle with that brownish glass straight out of the ‘70s. Or because it’s so good, versatile and inexpensive everyone loves it – too “pop”, shortly, to reach the podium next to Guerlain’s or Chanel’s classics. Well, to me it deserves that entirely. Although I review this only now, to me it’s easily one of the most beautiful and perfect masculine perfumes ever made. A proper pillar which is not only a milestone, but is still today completely modern, elegant, good, versatile, simple but unforgettable, together exceedingly pleasant to wear – to this extent, actually quite more than other more appreciated classic fragrances (masterpieces, but perhaps more formal, or more outdated). What amazes me the most and what makes Azzaro pour Homme so unique and sets the difference with most of other fougères is the irresistible, manly, silky cleanliness of the herbal-floral accord of citrus, sage, lavender and anise: it’s cozy, fresh, gently sweet, bright and radiant but also velvety and “virile”, which then perfectly drifts on an endless drydown more on mossy-woody notes. Sage and anise give something here which you won’t find anywhere else. Perfect for any age, any time, any mood, without being generic or shallow – just perfect. Not much to say: one of the true masterpieces of masculine perfumery of any time. I am more familiar with the vintage version, which to me smells slightly richer and darker, but the current version is a must as well. Close relatives: Balmain Ebène (fresher, more formal), Aramis Tuscany (woodier, darker, and a bit more "meh").


Dune pour Homme by Christian Dior (1997)

Nose: Olivier Cresp, Jean-Pierre Béthouart

Dune pour Homme is for me among the most enigmatic and elusive mainstream fragrances ever made, for how it elaborates a generic “designer” theme in a fascinating way. It should be supposed to be a versatile, clean and “easy” exotic fig-green scent with a soapy-musky base, and it partially is so indeed; actually the smell itself is really simple, totally good and totally wearable. A gentle, graceful, mannered and slightly creamy fig-musk-green scent. But to me, and I admit this may be a totally personal perception, it has something else which makes it completely unique and, well, kind of creepy at the same time. That “creepy” feature is connected to its signature sort of warm, blurred and watery texture, which is due to the use of hedione and musk (ketones, I guess); it feels slightly humid, lactescent and “grey” too, and for some odd reasons it makes me think of some old, faded 8 mm homemade videotape shot in a cloudy, muggy August afternoon lost in the mid-1990s. The “analogic filter” role played by the film grain corresponds to hedione here, which is I think the key of Dune’s magic – a sort of fruity-watery-grey note which gives Dune this sort of damp, plastic, sultry feel.

This together with some more ordinary, decent-quality and undoubtedly “summery” nuances like green notes and fig leaves, produce a really fascinating “summer feel”, but where “summer” means “a summer of your childhood lost in your imagination”. Nothing crisp and realistic, on the contrary a blurry, cozy, faded souvenir. It’s like if the use of hedione and musk here gives the blend a sort of nostalgic and almost hallucinating feel which makes you plunge into your own memories. Grey, sort of humid and sweltering, at the same time “faded” and quiet. Out of all the dozens of similarly synthetic scents I’ve tried and owned, this is the only one which triggers that path of associations, showing how creatively one can make good use of synthetic aromachemicals (assuming there was an intention to be creative, otherwise I guess it’s just bare luck). Anyway, aside from all of that which is maybe just a subjective frenzy of mine, Dune pour Homme is surely a good, clean and cozy greenish-exotic all-rounder with a really respectable quality and a perfect balance of distinction and “safeness”. Nothing groundbreaking and a bit short-lived (as you can expect with these notes) but inexpensively solid.


Bottega Veneta pour Homme EDT (2014)

Nose: Daniela Andrier and Antoine Maisondieu

Despite having won a couple of “prizes” among which the Basenotes Award, apparently this scent seems quite controversial, with many connoisseurs being disappointed by it. It looks like one of those perfect candidates to be discontinued soon – many “people who love fragrances” seem to consider it too trendy and shallow, many “people who love mainstream” probabily consider it too light and understated. Well, I am among the fans instead. Love at first sniff, and it even grew on me. I find Bottega Veneta pour Homme filled with an insane amount of class and intelligence: it’s discreet, utterly enjoyable to wear, rather complex, fascinating and incredibly well blended. The opening is memorable, at least to my tastes: a sort of green, fizzy pine-citrus accord on a super thin yet dark base of patchouli, finished leather, and a warm resinous-floral-earthy note of labdanum which provides a subtle feel of warmth underneath the overall freshness. Now imagine this just whispered, toned down to an almost “meditative” quiet. A refined, hyper-modern concept of elegance, perfectly solid and substantial. It’s like being in a minimalist contemporary building in the middle of the forest: you feel the aromatic cold green breeze from outside, but there is also an aseptic, clean, silent feel of modernity – almost alienated (the astringent citric notes play a role here, as they smell almost like “ammonia” in a way). A sort of futuristic reading of “classic” clean masculine elegance – this is actually the interesting thing here, besides the fact it smells great (not that this is secondary...): the notes I’ve listed are possibly the most common in classic “fresh” colognes, but Bottega Veneta pour Homme smells just completely different from all of them. Miles away from any other cologne. To me, Maisondieu and Andrier perfectly managed to “translate” the classic structures into a future language - made of, well, I don't know what, probably a creative use of synthetics and naturals, or whatever magic they made to make Bottega smell like this. About projection & persistence, which seems quite “debated” as well as many people seem to consider them a flaw here; it is undoubtedly much close to skin, but surprisingly, you smell it “around” you for hours – you get this green-black smell coming and going, which is subtle yet much more distinctive than you think. To cut it short, I’ll be honest: I find this both one of the best “contemporary formal” fragrances at the moment, and call me idiotic, a smart, compelling, clever and apparently completely underrated avantgarde rewriting of classic canons. Which makes Bottega Veneta pour Homme almost challenging to wear, as it’s so deceptively subtle it’s so easy to underrate it and dismiss it as a shallow trendy scent. While it’s not, it’s a veil of great contemporary perfumery. I appreciate Bottega Veneta had the guts to come out with something like this. Although I admit the volume knob may need a fix (but I think they made the “extreme” version for that?), I personally love this a lot.