O/E by Bogue (2015)

I’m very puzzled by the distance between the hype which has graced this brand from the very beginning of its journey into niche, and the actual quality of their fragrances I’ve tried so far. Both MAAI and Cologne Reloaded seemed to me some very dull and pedantic exercises around very classic structures, something I guess pretty much any nose working for any company anywhere between the 1950’s and the 1990’s would have been able to compose blindfolded; and now this, “O/E”. If on one hand it’s at least a bit more modern and more creative than the other two, on the other hand it kind of reinforces my conclusion that toying around classic structures seems really the main and only skill of Gardoni, or whoever is the nose behind Bogue fragrances. Because O/E smells horrid. A trainwreck. Pardon my French but it really is. Theoretically it would be a “citrus-green leather chypre”, so to speak, so imagine – on paper – a very bold citrus-green top accord built on a dark, herbal, even skanky and slightly powdery-vanillic foundation of woods, oakmoss, and some rusty tan leather.

The problem is that it seems the brief was then handed to a clueless janitor with the specific request of cutting costs and sourcing materials in his storage closet. The citrus-green top accord smells astonishingly cheap, acrid, artificial, flat and harsh, something way more suitable for cleaning tiles than scenting skin. And it’s just clumsily sticked as-is on a more than mediocre leathery chypre foundation, which smells no better than any robust pre-world war II drugstore aftershave did. Mennen quality, to get you an idea. The notes smell from bad to dull per se, and they’re significantly poorly blended, thrown one against the other like a toddler would do with his toy cars. All topped with spices, with the same grace (and purpose, ultimately) of someone rapidly throwing a handful of sand in your face to rob you and run away. I’ve nothing against modernity and “clashy” compositions, as long as there’s some talent behind them. Here I don’t really see any. It’s just noise, cheapness, itch. A decent idea completely gone wrong. Persistence is remarkable though, which is good if you’re into scrubbers; evolution is close to zero, just some lemon and herbs fading away and (surprise, surprise) synthetic cloves growing in presence together with some vanillin and cheap leather aromachemicals. Probably the nicest part, if compared the early abysmal stages. Nothing different from the drydown of any 1 dollar aftershave, but at least it’s wearable (at 180 times more the price). I wish the best to Bogue but seriously... not with this, really.

3/10

A Quiet Morning by Miller et Bertaux (2008)

A Quiet Morning by Miller et Bertaux is quite a nice little discovery I’ve made recently, together with the fact that Miller and Bertaux aren’t, as I imagined, the umpteenth irritating couple of 30-something niche hipsters dressed in white garbage bags, rather two eccentric, laid-back middle-aged beardy gents. I’m not crazy for the other scents of this brand I’ve tried, but A Quiet Morning works darn good instead. It’s very minimalistic, but for once, it doesn’t seem to rely to the same trite array of synthetic aromachemicals which are in fashion in the “minimalist” side of perfumery. In other words don’t expect just another ripoff of some Comme des Garçons/Andrea Maack-like stuff. Neither a dull citrusy or floral faint nonsense. This is a pretty different take on minimalism – for the better. It takes (well, it took me) a while to appreciate it and it’s probably easy to dismiss it at first, but the truth is that it manages to smell somehow very natural and breezy, yet amazingly modern in its transparent thinness, still keeping it not cold or blatantly synthetic. It creates instead a very peculiar “aura” of warm, sophisticated clean subtleness and lightness which contrary to many other cases, at no point becomes “dullness”. It’s actually a very substantial scent with some seriously enjoyable transitions and depth: it’s just filtered through clear, thin pastel glass, smelling rarefied and delicate, but so to speak, very robust “in spirit”. And briefly put, it doesn’t smell like anything else. 

The fragrance opens with a quite sharp yet weightless sort of bitter cedar, and actually oud-like note (emptied of any “animalic” dirt), quite woody, dry and spicy-medicinal, blended with a nose-tingling accord of ginger (or something similar to that) cumin and saffron, and a touch of rose – or, again, something similar to it, slightly floral and fresh-juicy. A tasty, dry, almost edgy spicy-woody-floral accord which soon starts to unravel a warmer heart: clean, soapy hints of sandalwood blend with a really enjoyable, very subtle yet crystal crisp accord comprising something like a honeyed saffron note paired with a microscopic drop of warm floral soap. I’ve mentioned the word “soap” a couple of times but don’t get me wrong; A Quiet Morning isn’t really a “soapy” scent, it just has some light hints of that (and this scent is all about shimmering, light “hints” of things). It’s dry, dusty and breezy, but has indeed a sort of slightly soapy-sweet and “juicy” base texture, mostly due to sandalwood and that touch of honeyed-floral spices. 

On the drydown it becomes more and more warm and a tad sweeter too, before turning again more dry and woody, with a slightly bolder presence of (good, seemingly quite real) sandalwood still lightly infused with a sort of medicinal cedar-oud note, and a simply, quiet but somehow distinctive floral-spicy accord – which after some time starts reminding me of tea a bit, as some herbal accents pop out. All still feeling very light, clean and “peaceful”, albeit slightly smokier and darker than the first hours. The overall effect is very nice and enjoyable, achieving a rather unique sort of “spicy-woody airiness” that I basically never found so far in fragrances. It’s indeed a “quiet morning” feeling - soft, clean, cozy. It’s a very light scent, but somehow it projects and persists well better than it seems, staying more “around you” than on skin – which is an effect I’ve often noted in many (good) sandalwood scents, so maybe it is due to that. Probably too light for many given all the “bombs” we’re used to today, but an unusual, fascinating little gem. 

7,5-8/10

Gentlemens' Eau de Toilette by James Bronnley

As a longtime fan of classic British horror movies produced by Hammer or Tigon, I’ve always lived with a sort of “mythical” imaginary of the British countryside - permanently foggy, rainy, unwelcoming, with small shabby cottages and ghastly antique boutiques where everyone looks like Peter Cushing or the Shadmock from “The Monster Club”. Well, this little gem by James Bronnley I acquired by a complete casual chance, is the closest, most vibrant thing to all that world I’ve ever smelled. It has them all: while being apparently a very traditional citrus-herbal “barbershop” cologne, it has an impressive feel of dusty-camphorous decadence, impeccably blended with a distinguished smell of powdery moss, grass, aromatic herbs, vetiver and a nondescript, quite bold sort of “damp wood” feel (I think due to moss again, infused with something resembling to chamomile or sunflower), and a top accord of greenish citrus and neroli – which isn’t really “zesty” or particularly fresh, rather more bitter, dry, slightly floral and creamy.

Besides being exceedingly compelling and elegant, the overall feel is just quite more bizarre and puzzling for me, and surely I wouldn’t really associate this fragrance to summer. It may be just me, but I get a very dense feel of grayness, of dusty “countryside” mossiness, definitely something more autumnal for me. Think of entering a shabby cottage and catch a whiff of the inside – the smells of musty dust, cracked damp furniture, dry soaps, old books, cider dripping out of a cracked glass, the dapper landlord lying murdered on the stairs. Basically what many would refer to as an “old man” fragrance – and by “old” I would mean here two, three thousands years old. It’s a spooky and amazingly fascinating foggy mist halfway archaic and funereal, it smells sophisticated and very natural, breezy yet almost oppressive, very distinguished and neat yet almost off-putting. Associations aside, as I said (and as others already said better than me) it’s basically an impeccable “barbershop” citrus-mossy classic eau de cologne with a powerful sense of dusty melancholy, projecting just fine and lasting for long with an utterly enjoyable herbal-powdery drydown, still bearing a decided neroli note. Shortly a British decadent take on 4711 and the likes. Surely quite mature and fairly austere, but truly classy and pleasant. A true little gem far more unique and distinctive than it may seem by the composition, definitely worth it if you’re into classic “gentleman’s” stuff.

8/10

Five by Bruno Fazzolari (2013)

Wow. The opening (and well, the evolution too) of Five by Fazzolari is just “wow”. Powerful, deep, extremely clear and completely unique, at least for my experience. A very innovative sort of classic “eau de cologne” with citrus, edgy green notes and a very light powdery-mossy base... but richly infused with a sort of thick, evocative salty-watery feel. I would use the term “ozonic” if it wasn’t so abused and associated to so much garbage. But it is indeed “ozonic” in the most truthful and genuine sense possible. I know what you may think then – “well, basically an ozonic citrus scent?”. Theoretically yes. But actually no, not really. That would be the “concept”, but the notes and the way they’re blended smell deeply different from what you may think and surely from any ozonic-fresh scent I know. Mostly because of the herbal-watery feel, which is truly puzzling. It’s mindblowing for how realistic, faceted, shimmering and deep it is, and for how it interacts with the other notes. It smells truly like damp seaweeds and wet rocks with a gentle uplifting herbal breeze – imagine that, impeccably blended with a more formal “eau de cologne” fragrance (so citrus and lavender, basically).

It’s actually hard for me to do this scent some justice only with words, but yes, probably thinking of a classic “eau de cologne” rich in citrus and powdery notes blended with the invigorating smell of a sunny late afternoon lying on a damp rock on some cozy Sardinian cove, may more or less suggest what Five is about. With a clarity, a richness and a persistence I’ve never, ever experienced with this genre of scents. Truly perfect.  Maybe Villoresi Uomo is a similar, and similarly amazing, unusual and rich Mediterranean interpretation of a classic citrus-herbal cologne, but lacking in what makes Five so special - that bold “iodine-watery” element  which is, well, just brilliant – and is actually the main vein of Five (I mean the main “accord”, it’s quite powerful). Again, please don’t imagine any “calone” thing, or some flat chemical “salty” garbage as in many “sea-salt” niche scent – this is lukewarm, organic, rich living sea water diluted with a distinguished vintage citrus-powdery cologne and a sort of somehow fitting metallic aftertaste (which paired with citrus and a subtle darker mossy base, kind of reminds me of Christopher Street by Charenton Macerations). Fantastic drydown, with the “sea” effect taking the stage over the “eau de cologne” part, leaving a trail of fresh herbs and marine water on your skin. Probably the most interesting, clever and well executed variation on a classic citrus-herbal scent I’ve ever tried, and surely the bes t “marine” fragrance on the market for me.

8,5-9/10

Années Folles by La Parfumerie Moderne (2015)

I was very eager to try this new creation by La Parfumerie Moderne, which is nearly the only new French niche act (of, say, the last 2-3 years) I personally consider worthy consideration and praise. And I surely appreciate the fact it took nearly two years for them to come up with a single new offering – in a time when niche brands launch a whole line once, sometimes even twice a year, that’s a true mirage. And well... once I sampled this, my expectations were decidedly exceeded. You can skip my boring detailed review and just trust me: Années Folles is absolutely great, probably the best offering by this brand, and in my opinion, one of the best works by Corticchiato. Années Folles surprised me for several reasons in fact, the first of which in chronological order being its breathtakingly rich opening. The fragrance starts with a truly sumptuous, yet actually rather simple structure of lavender (bold, deep, balsamic and “skanky” double-distilled lavender absolue) blended in a dusty-herbal frame of Mediterranean herbs and spices (thyme, nutmeg) and paired with a very clever and delightfully harmonic core of geranium and vetiver, which is quite subtle at first, but the drydown will do it justice. A veritable triumph of lavender (I think this was missing in Corticchiato’s portfolio?) and woody herbs supported by a gentle cascade of dusty resinous notes of tonka, patchouli and myrrh, vith a vague aftertaste of dry vanilla. 

So basically Années Folles opens as a creative, remarkably well-executed mix of a breezy Mediterranean green-woody cologne, a formal, dusty old-school French “barbershop” lavender-based fougère, and a tangy, warm Oriental spicy-ambery-resinous blend. Floral, herbal and resinous, melting together a classic French inspiration (powdery, soapy, at the same time kind of dirty traditional fougère notes) with a whiff of Mediterranean rawness following Corticchiato’s fondness for herbs and green notes, brilliantly warmed by a touch of Oriental aromatic and dusty spiciness (blending with the French part to echo a sort of “Guerlinade”). All in the most genuine quality, almost an “artisanal” quality of materials, but with a rather mannered appearance – a sort of sophisticated, distinguished, kind of melancholic look in which the “rawness” and the depth of lavender and of the Mediterranean and Oriental inspirations are elegantly tamed down, as if the center and the perspective of the fragrance still remain rooted in a certain French sense of discreet, slightly decadent “chic”. Mediterranean and Parisian at once, so to speak, all filtered in faded, dusty sepia tones. 

The evolution brilliantly unravels the vetiver heart, with a transition towards a powdery and smoky drydown tinged with masculine nuances of geranium and darker spices, and still a sharp hint of thyme. Some of the initial lavender-herbal “raw” greenness slowly fades away, bringing in a warmer, sort of talc-like and slightly sweet feel, reaching a (rather close to skin – maybe a tad too much for many) final drydown based on a very simple, delightfully cozy whiff of spicy-floral vetiver dusted with fine talc. Lavender remains as a “fil rouge” throughout the scent, with a shimmering transition from a bolder initial phase, to an ethereal, discreet powdery-soapy presence on the drydown.

So, to cut it short, Années Folles smells fairly “old school” on one side (a French digest ranging from Guerlain’s Mouchoir de Monsieur to Pierre Cardin pour Monsieur), and very modern on the other – the “modern” factor being an extremely fascinating weightless texture, which smells as much rich as crisp and somehow very breezy and almost thin, with a dark shade, or better say a “mist” feel. French, Mediterranean and Oriental inspirations are very effortlessly blended together in a sophisticated, natural, discreet blend with a very neat composition and a fantastic refined presence on skin. For some reasons this fragrance smells quite different from any other work by Corticchiato, both for the materials used (there’s a more massive natural feel here for me) and for the way its is composed and how it behaves on skin. I think this it is at once the most “old school” scent by him (except maybe for Musc Tonkin) and the most creative one, and it seems he really tried to use at best the natural behaviour of the materials with no “synthetic help” and no formal patterns – rather combining some of them. I really enjoy this fragrance, as it smells rich and fulfilling yet very approachable and actually simple to enjoy, extremely sophisticated but very cozy and versatile. As regards of the projection, Années Folles won’t be a bold “compliment getter” bomb as it soon sits rather close to skin, but that’s how most of elegant and quality scents perform. But well, I don’t want to start sounding servile or suspiciously enthusiastic, so... Just support the last good niche we have, don’t miss this.

8,5/10

Bois d'Iris by Van Cleef & Arpels (2009)

Nose: Emilie Coppermann

I must admit it: I’ve a penchant for iris fragrances. As long as they’re even just decent, I always like them a lot. It amazes me how versatile this material can be, and how many nuances it offers. It can smell warm and luscious, dusty and cold, “grey” and “red”, plushy and earthy, and always so refined and mysterious. Anyway, Bois d’Iris is surely a remarkable must for any fan of this material, probably even more than other more praised ones in my opinion. It explores the colder-dustier and more balsamic side of iris, pairing it with dry resins, warm amber, a very peculiar sort of “greyish”, massively incense-driven crisp woody note, and a sort of rarefied foggy pine-forest feel. So imagine a breezy, balsamic, woody and above all, dusty-powdery incense scent, completely unisex and actually quite dark somehow, or better say “cold”, peaceful yet somehow aloof. Almost “lunar”, I’d say. And extremely refined: the dustiness has some very fascinating sort of sparkling texture – “silver powder”, so to speak. Dior named a scent “Bois d’Argent”, but that name would be so better for  Bois d’Iris actually. By the way the two scents are indeed quite similar, but I prefer Bois d’Iris, for a couple of very simple features: less pretentious, more substantial.

What fascinates me about this scent is how it creates a shimmering, rarefied sort of “silver incense” vibe played on iris powder and resinous-balsamic woody notes, without using directly incense.  I mean, this fragrance smells quite incensey to me, but in a peculiar way, “incensey and not-incensey at once”. Maybe more than incense I should say “a whiff of cold, azure-grey smoky breeze scented with iris and luxury resins”, as it feels weightless and airy yet surprisingly substantial, balsamic, enveloping. Truly one of a kind, extremely enjoyable and fascinating. Shortly – if it wasn’t clear already – I really like this scent: it feels quality, it’s extremely sophisticated, it’s delicate but not light or too close to skin – just elegantly discreet.  I own other iris based scents, and this has definitely its own personality which makes it worth owning even if you think you’ve “smelled them all” when it comes to iris. Maybe a tad too expensive, but a true class act!

8/10

Boellis: Panama 1924 Millesimé (2010) and Fefé Dandy Napoletano (2015)

The nose for both is Maurizio Cerizza. Big fan of both Daytona and classic Panama 1924.

***

I surely agree with the reviews comparing Panama 1924 Millesimé with Cartier’s Déclaration, as the opening is very similar and plays more or less the same chords – spicy cardamom, elegant crisp musky woods, a whiff of masculine flowers (jasmine and carnation for me, or something similar to it, maybe rose too), saffron and some very light tangy citrus. But the similarity doesn’t really last long, though: from the very beginning in fact, Millesimé does have some more richness, smelling at once more refined and more natural than the Cartier’s. And a bit warmer too, thanks to musk and ambergris – the same, quite good dusty-salty musky ambergris base you get in nearly any scent produced by Profumitalia (Boellis and Hugh Parsons, just to name two brands they manage – just compare two random scents for each, you’ll smell the same base notes). 

During its evolution, and this is a quality product with some elegant and shimmering evolution, the initial spicy notes – except maybe saffron, which lasts longer – tone down progressively, leaving the stage to an exceedingly pleasant, classy and soothing floral-vetiver core accord still with some subtle pungent spicy edges, musk and some nondescript sort of “juicy” feel which I guess it’s that “tea” note – more a sort of a greenish rose for me, actually. Vetiver gets an increasingly prominent role, and it’s basically the star of the drydown, tinged with some floral nuances and a dusty musky-ambery base accord, which soon becomes a bit leathery too (I think it’s a side nuance of saffron).

So, basically another winner from Boellis in my book. As for the others from this brand, this is really nothing overly creative, and surely it does try to “emulate” a certain type of established crowdpleasers: but it does it with great class, great understatement and great quality. It feels just very mature, distinguished, yet informal and totally affable. To the point it, say, “exceeds” its masters and becomes actually better than them – so yes, for me this is quite better than Déclaration or similar scents. Same tones, same chords, better class and better quality. It has that same soapy “barbershop” vibe of other Boellis fragrances, that effortless Italian class, a shade of musky-amber refined melancholy well paired with some more luminous spicy-green nuances, and it’s just more fascinating, richer and more sophisticated than the Cartier’s in my opinion – also getting rid of that “sanitized” sort of artificial designer feel. The name is a bit pretentious perhaps as I don’t get the “millesimé” factor, but it’s surely recommended nonetheless.

7,5-8/10 

***

This new offering by Boellis is also probably their most creative one so far. The color of the packaging (bright bold orange) and the Neapolitan reference misled me at first, I thought this would have been some bright, lively fresh zesty scent, but the notes intrigued me as it seemed actually darker and rounder. And in fact it is, this is by far the darker and also quite more complex scent by this brand. But at the same time, probably the one I enjoy the less.

Basically Fefé is a patchouli-musk bomb with a massive dusty-powdery-woody feel, truly warm and aromatic (even “culinary” thanks to saffron), barely enlightened by some very subtle whiff of citrus greenness. Patchouli, musk and a dusty woody-ambergris accord sit at the core of this scent like big, bold, humid Stonehenge stones: imagine the smell of some antique, kind of musty Belle Epoque closet, with its earthy-powdery and woody nuances, and that nondescript smell of damp dust and old abandoned garments. Refined and melancholic at once, and I surely get the reference to a Neapolitan dandy – a quite evocative and quality portrait of the Italian heritage of laid-back dapper gents of the early Nineteenth century. Or well, of any gentleman of that era, and this is the smell you still can get in some very old boutiques (dusty barbershop boutiques, again... you can’t really say Boellis hasn’t a very clear “fil rouge” throughout their offerings).

The scent is quite complex for me, as the way the notes interact smells quite new to me, but at the same time it doesn’t evolve that much, so that’s pretty much it – patchouli, musk, amber, earthy-powdery nuances, a dusty sort of “damp stones” feel mixed with a soapy vibe. It smells good, but well... quite a bit cloying after a while, honestly. Not sure if that’s intended, but it does seem a bit static, and given the boldness of the notes and their dusty-damp feel, you would probably prefer it to evolve a bit, to “open” somehow, to lose some weight and strength as it feels quite thick and almost haunting after a while. Or just a bit boring. Nonetheless the smell per se is very good, so if you like it or if you’re looking for an unusual patchouli-powdery scent, then it’s a deal. I do like it, but it’s really not an “everyday scent” or something I’d want to reach often.

6,5-7/10  

A*Men Pure Leather by Thierry Mugler (2012)

Well, this is an interesting fragrance with an interestingly polarizing reception among fragrance aficionados. My opinion on this is that it’s very nice. Nice and fascinating, and quite unique too, in its own subtle way. Does it smell like A*Men? Yes, it does, it’s 90% identical - it’s a flanker, after all. But still, it has some key features that makes it not redundant if you like or already own classic A*Men. First of all, it smells as a washed, lighter version of it; less challenging to pull off, more dry, kind of darker, surely more simple. A “thinned out” A*Men, so to speak – and that’s nice for me, since A*Men can get sometimes tough and overwhelming to wear. Second, contrary to other reviewers, I do get very clearly the leather facet here, and I really like it. I expected something different, a duller and more mainstream leather accord glued to A*Men like a drugstore patch, while I think that leather here is processed in a very creative and quite classy way.

More than a specific note, in fact, it actually really feels like if they gave A*Men a “polished leather look”, an overall “leather treatment” infusing it with a subtle, yet robust smell of new, tar-like, oddly sweetish polished leather. Obviously the “leather infusion” mentioned on the box is marketing nonsense (and knowing Mugler’s aesthetics, chances are it’s subtly ironic), but still I admit that that’s the effect: I think this does really smell like A*Men drenched in leather. And again, I must stress that for me the leather feel here is quite realistic, unusual and surprisingly well put together. Synthetic, sure, but that’s the smell of most of todays’ leather goods treated with chemical agents. And I guess that many people don’t get the leather facet because they’re looking for some more common, standard leather note, while here leather is kind of “all over” – it’s the ambiance, the frame itself, so you’ve to, say, “zoom out” and look at the entirety of the scent to get it. That’s my reading of this scent. Besides the all-over leather effect, the rest is quite A*Men with no particular variations except for a fresher and thinner look – if you aren’t familiar with that masterpiece, then imagine a bizarre musky-minty-soapy gourmand bomb with lavender, resins, tonka, fresh edges and a dark patchouli-cocoa base. Imagine that, sprayed on a new pair of leather sneakers.

The more I wear this clever pastiche, the more I like it, and I think the subtle yet very competent and creative leather variation is remarkable, and I’m afraid quite underrated (or even more sadly, just snobbed because “it’s Mugler”). If you see it with an “out of the box” approach, and take it as the crazy gourmand oddball drenched in subtle leather that it is, then it’s more valuable and creative than the majority of “avantgarde” niche leathers. It has some cheap facets, but they’re fun – and so is this scent, nothing particularly refined and probably not that versatile too, but fun, nice and unusual. Totally remarkable for the price.

7,5/10