Barbershop Scents

As you may have noticed, I've been on a bit of a roll with drugstore machos and barbershop fragrances. I've searched high and low for fragrances in this category - on the drugstore's shelves, in fancy department stores, and niche parfumeries. I've even went as far as attempting to grow a bit of chin hair and a stick-on moustache so that I could impress the neighbourhood's barber that I need some manly grooming.

Alas, the last trick did not work very well. When I stepped onto the checkered-floor I felt even more invisible than on Vancouver's chick-unfriendly streets. On the bright side, that allowed me to scour the shelves and get a good whiff of the very sparse merchandize available - mostly consisting of shaving creams and aftershave balms in minimalist packaging that bear old-world names. There were nothing worthy of sampling or reporting there, and after being completely ignored for 10 minutes I gave in and asked one of the barbers if they have any colognes or aftershaves I can smell. They said they sell none, but there is this one product they use on their client at the end of each shave, which they kindly let me photograph and sample.

Pinaud's Lime Sec is an acid-green liquid with a disgusting aroma that is what I would imagine they've blasted on the masses of refugees at the close of WWII, and would continue on as an insect repellent spray throughout the 50s. In other words - it smells terrible, and has very little to do with lime. Even rancid lime oil does not smell that terrible.

Needless to say, I stepped out of the store feeling disappointed and dismayed, and with a stark realization that you can't experience barbershops unless you're a man. So I can only imagine what it would be like to get an old-fashisoned shave with a straight razor, having your bristly whiskers  softened with a soapy cream, slapped on the face by skilled hands and then surrendering to a sharp blade sliding on your throat. The ritual, if I'm not mistaken, ends with a blindfolding act with a steaming towel, and then some more slapping - this time with a stinging alcoholic aftershave that hopefully does not reek of wartime disinfectants, but rather with one of the sexy fragrances from the list of favourites that I've complied.

While these fragrances vary greatly, they can be divided into three major categories, there is a common thread running among them, which is rather utilitarian: softening the stubble before the shave; and treating the skin to prevent post-shave rashes and infection.

BARBERSHOP FOUGÈRE 
The majority of the fragrances belong to the Fougère family in this way or the other. This is not surprising if you take into consideration that lavender soothes the skin and is an excellent disinfecting treatment for nicks and cuts. Unlike so many other disinfectant essential oils - this one also has a soothing smell which would create a positive association for visiting the barber. Add to this plenty of musk and baby-powder notes, geranium and chamomile, hints of warm, sweet spices - and you get the distinctive, reference barbershop fragrance.

Canoe (Dana) 
It's been a long time since I've encountered this fragrance on any of my local drugstore shelves; but if my memory serves me correctly, this is a rather sweet, ambery and floral rendition of the Fouler theme, utilizing heliotropin and eugenol in addition to a high dose of coumarin, and of course the compulsory oakmoss, lavender and linalool.

Royal Copenhagen
This one take the musk and baby powder to a new height. Like a return to the crib for the inner-baby that hides within each grown man. There is really not a better way to describe it.



Brut

A little more aromatic than Canoe, and not nearly as musky and powdery as Royal Copenhagen, Bruth is herbaceous yet also very soft. It has a cheap bottle-green plastic packaging that makes it look like a mouthwash and off the top of my head I can think of at least 10 much better fragrances for men; but it's a classic drugstore fragrance that has initiated countless of boys into manhood. It is far better than Axe or Drakkar Noir for that matter.

If you'd like to opt for a more fancy, prestigious fragrance in this category, may I recommend Caron's Pour Un Homme. With its lavender and powdery animalic notes of civet and musk give it a very soft, diffusive, powdery and luxurious personality, that reeks of old-world refinement and gentlemanliness. The kind of scent you'd want to sprinkle your handkerchief with. Other options along these lines are Pour Monsieur (Chanel) and Mouchoir de Monsiuer (Guerlain).

BAY RUM 
The Bay Rum aftershave is a mainstay staple in men's grooming and is as old as imperialism itself. In the tropics, the disinfecting qualities of Europe's Aqua Mirabillis had to make do with the local antiseptics. We're talking about hard-core eugenol territory - West Indian Bay Leaf (Pimento remecosa), Bayberry (Myrica rub), allspice, cinnamon, cassia and of course clove buds - were steeped in a highly distilled cane sugar liquor (rum) to create a skin-burning (to say that it stings is an understatement) to help reduce the negative side effects of shaving. Bay Rum is not unlike spiced rum, so I suspect it was also consumed by sailors either before or after the shave. Because, er - why not?

There are many low-cost bay rum aftershaves in the market, and you can easily make your own if only you can get a hold of West Indian bay leaves (they are different than the Mediterranean bay laurels - Laurus nobilis).
Old Spice is a case in point, in which the bay rum theme was elevated to another level, and the romanticism of sea navigation has been well-marketed, and thankfully also well crafted. The spices are softened with geranium, vanilla, coumarin, have a distinctive carnation-like character that makes them feel more fancy and dandy-like; and the citrus add a lovely lift to the composition.

Paco Rabanne takes the medicinal qualities of spices to a whole new level by adding medicinal salicylic notes and camphor. Yet there is something very charming and manly about it nevertheless. At least as an aftershave. The balm would leave your man's cheeks glossy and smooth.

Continuing on the spice route, we have also some more sophisticated fragrances, that come in all kinds of grooming products such as Tabac Original - a delectable spicy vetiver with a heap of freshly microplanes nutmeg, woodsy-elegant allspice and clean musk dry down. And if you're after something more sophisticated (and pricy) - Equipage delivers a similar theme albeit a tad more leathery, tannin, dry and even floral with its heart of carnation.



EAU DE COLOGNE
Disinfectant qualities are not limited to spices or herbs, but also are shared with citrus oils. In addition, they have skin-softening qualities, which make them perfect for shampooing hair and softening those stubborn whiskers. I'm quite confident they're used for that purpose in many shaving creams and soaps. And in any case, a splash of old-fashioned eau de cologne type fragrance will sure create a pick-me-up effect after sitting in the chair for a while and being pampered.

4711 is what I'd imagine a barbershop in Europe to smell like. At least in Germany, where it is one of the most iconic and most favourable smells. My grandmother (a Berlin native) remembers her own grandmother and mother wearing it. And judsing by the large sized bottles of 800 mL and even a full litre - this Aqua Mirabillis is used in a  rather utilitarian way to this day.

English Leather has a bit of a misleading name. It smells more like a soapy eau de cologne with tobacco base notes than anything else. That's due to plenty of linalyl acetate (the primary ingredient in petitgrain and also in lavender). In any case, it's affordable and rather chic although I have a suspicion they've significantly tampered with the formula.

Pino Silvestre, a pine-and-moss themed coniferous cologne that used to have a fantastic natural glow about it but was sadly reformulated without the oaks. With a price point that is still as low as ever, a bottle that look like a green pine-cone still and a box that provides enough amusing material for a bathroom read - perhaps all can be forgiven. Or maybe not...

For those wanting to spend a little more mulah and achieve a fancier citrusy, classically gentlemanly barbershop effect, consider splurging in a bottle of Azzaro - a slightly anisic lavender Fougère with a distinctive juicy-citrus and herbaceous combination of basil and tarragon. That is what I'd imagine gentlemen in Italia to splash on their face before going out on the town. And then of course there is the even juicier, refined and beloved Eau Sauvage the epitome of masculine fragrances, barbershop or otherwise.

Jasmine and Pine

Another gem from the stash of decants I received from Joanna is vintage Devin cologne by Bernard Chant for Aramis (1978). It was a FiFi Award winner that year, which was well deserved. I've never even heard of it, and wasn't really drawn to even trying it before I got on this roll of trying out masculine scents. But when I finally did, I was in for a most pleasurable ride, and a long-lasting at that as well.

Devin is that fabulous meeting point between resinous and green. It may seem familiar to us residents of the 21st Century; but back in the day when green icy florals and soapy Chypres reigned supreme (No. 19, Ivoire, Private Collection) this must have been an original.

Whenever I got out of the rustic village and visited my grandparents in their modern Tel Aviv apartment, I would be treated with the most luxurious bath in my grandmother's best tradition: foam bath in her blue bathtub. Into the warm running water (ours had to be boiled stove-top in a kettle!) into which my grandmother would drizzle generous amount of an acid-green fragrant liquid from an emerald-coloured plastic bottle to create rich lather the consistency of meringue. I would build mountains of this cream on top of my head and pretend to lick it off like ice cream. Naturally, it smelled of pine needles in the most heavenly way. And that fresh-yet-sweet, resinous scent is what the opening of Devin smells like to me.

Its body reveals sweet galbanum resin, which while still green smells unquestionably sweet, and more like a confection than something you would put in your salad (FYI: galbanum oil smells like parsley on steroids), and there is pine-y yet balsamic frankincense that extends the evergreen notes and melds them seamlessly into the obvious undercurrent of amber that's flowing underneath. If you pay close attention you'll also notice there is quite a bit of jasmine hidden in the heart, harmonizing these seemingly unrelated elements of evergreen forest and frankincense and sticky amber. Later on, spicy notes of cinnamon and cloves emerge as well, but they are not obvious at all - they just add warmth, and also an aldehydic lift to the composition. They are rather light in both dosage and character.

While the sweetness places Devin in a rather feminine territory of amber orientals, there are also other elements that make it also masculine, besides the lovely pine. There is a dry leathery base note, hint of dry, acrid oakmoss, dry cedarwood and phenolic herbs (thyme, artemisia). Compare that with Obsession though (armoise, tagetes), and you'll notice that the two are alarmingly similar not just in smell but also in their notes. The ending note is a smooth, natural vanilla-amber, a surprise for a masculine, and even more so surprising is how un-boring it is. Ambers can easily become flat and redundant. But when true vanilla absolute is used, and some contrasting elements such as dark patchouli (even if in the tiniest amount), this can't be farther from the truth.

Devin is one of those rare things: a masculine fragrance with absolutely nothing about it I do not like.   With so many of them there is a phase I wish I could fast-forward through or skip altogether (the top notes in Polo green, for example, are a bit much and I wish I could lower the volume a bit until the dry down begins to kick in). Each phase in its progression is delectable, yet calling it a crowd pleaser would do it injustice. It's unique and to me seems ahead of its time, a precursor for Obsession (1985) and predicting modern, unusual fragrances that choose to treat the note of galbanum as a rich, incensy or even foody manner rather than the bracing cut-grass and soap that Yohji (1996) and Incensi by Lorenzo Villoresi (1997). Serge Lutens' much later Fille en Aiguilles (2009) has a similar structure, only here galbanum resin is replaced by the jam-like, resinous-sweet fir absolute.

Top notes: Bergamot, Pine, Artemisia, Lemon
Heart notes: Jasmine, Carnation, Thyme, Cinnamon
Base notes: Galbanum Resin, Frankincense, Amber, Leather, Cedarwood, Patchouli 

Equipage (Vintage)

Crackle of a whip, oiled saddles, shiny boots being broken-in on horse manure and cedar wood chips. Few smells bring so many other images, sounds and textures to mind as leather scents do. And Equipage got all of these plus its own refined, aristocratic touch of carnation and tobacco.

In this genre, Equipage is more tobacco than leather, with a sweet-spicy opening of nutmeg and allspice, a voluptuous carnation body that makes it equally dandy-esque and gypsy dancer. Images of a carnation tucked into a waistcoat pocket conjured simultaneously with Carmen rolling up clove cigarettes in her wide skirts. And once she sells the cigars, we're back to gentlemen territory where everything is polished, woodsy and unfloral. The carnation clears room for vetiver to shine as the heart note in this fragrance for a rather prolonged period of time.

Equipage in its vintage formulation (a generous decant I received from Joanna, one of the very few perfumista in my neighbourhood) is both silken and acrid, sweet and dry/phenolic, and brings to mind both pipe tobacco and a horse-stable tack-room. Although I've seen many other notes listed in literature on this fragrance (such as bergamot and rosewood and perhaps some other herbs) I'm not really feeling them in this particular specimen. Perhaps they have dissipated or they are so well blended that they are barely noticeable.

The dry down is that of cured tobacco leaf and only the slightest hint of carbonileum gives it a phenolic underscore. Equipage is elegantly dry, warmly sensual and musky with well-aged patchouli, and naturally sweetened with tonka bean. The latter gives it a finishing touch of rolled-leaf cigar that has been extinguished and left for later enjoyment - and forgotten. That should be long enough so that the acrid ashtray notes have dissipated completely, as you'll fortunately find non of these in Equipage... The perfumer is Guy Robert, who is also responsible for the masculine beauty of Monsieur Rochas and Gucci pour Homme.

Top notes: Nutmeg, Allspice
Heart notes: Carnation, Vetiver
Base notes: Tobacco Leaf, Isobutyl Quinoline, Patchouli, Tonka Bean 

Other reviews of Equipage - both contemporary and vintage:
Perfume Shrine
The Non Blonde
Bois de Jasmin
Now Smell This
Basenotes (members reviews)
Basenotes (discussion about vintage vs current formulation)

Old Spice

My grandpa died on my 13th birthday. I was too young to understand that it was going to happen, even though he was sick for about a year prior to that. He was in his early 60s, and much too young to leave us. And even though I still feel that I know him too little, there are certain things that make me feel like I know him quite intimately. There are certain things that no matter how adults try to hide, little children notice and are able to interpret later when they grow up enough to understand what was said, or what was exchanged in glances between overprotective parents or secretive relatives. Old Spice to me is one such key to reach out to these memories and reconnect with his never-dying spirit. 

Old Spice was launched when my grandfather himself was 13 years old. Maybe he worn it for his Bar Mitzvah, though I highly doubt it: life in Israel/Palestine under British Occupation was very frugal.  My grandmother told me that back in those days, his family had only two sets of clothes - weekday work clothes, which were washed and hang to dry every night, and another white shirt of Shabbat. That's it. 

Two years later, when my grandfather was a mere 15 year old boy, World War II erupted. Assisted by his sister, the eldest in the family of boys (like myself) he forged his age to 16 so that he can join the British Army and fight the Nazis and their allies, mostly in Italy. In 1944, he joined the Jewish Brigade and continued fighting Mussolini's fascist army all the while also saving Jewish survivors and refugees who escaped the Nazis, and helped smuggle them to Israel/Palestine and other safe lands.  

I doubt that there was a spare moment for dousing oneself with Old Spice in those days of war, and my grandma's recollection also does not include Old Spice until after they married. So perhaps the saying is true - and if it wasn't for Old Spice, my aunt and my mother would have never been born, and neither would me and the rest of my brothers and cousins. SmellyBlog would have never existed, along with many other things - some good ones and some not so great.  It's really hard to tell without entering a time machine, isn't it? 

But what I do know for sure is that if it wasn't for my grandfather, I would know nothing of Old Spice, or men at all. I remember his bottle of Old Spice aftershave standing in my grandparents' bathroom. I was puzzled by the ship and sails on the bottles, and what does it have to do with spice, anyway? I was just as intrigued by it as I was by my grandmother's flacon of Shalimar, whose faceted blue stopper I would look through at the now-distorted blue world... To a girl who lived in a wild village with a stepfather that looked like Blackbeard himself, and a mom who never bothered to shave her legs or armpits or anything (not that she needs to, really) - the ritual of shaving was truly an exotic thing. 

I would wonder what is that bottle made of (its opaque shiny white glass looked like porcelain to me); how to open that bottle, and years later, when I finally did - I found the scent surprisingly familiar and comforting. It reminded me of traveling to London with my grandparents and visiting ancient ships and museums. It reminded me of sharing a hotel room with them that looked just as the hotel in Charade looks like, and marvelling at how late the light is still out in the summertime. Just as it is now as I type this in another Northern city - in Canada. 

My grandpa always made a point of shaving every time before he visited us, or if we came for a visit. He was travelling a lot, and must have been deeply hurt when as a little toddler I would recoil from his face if he had as much as a day-old stubble.  For a little child this feels quite unbearably rough. He was such a considerate person that he kept this habit even though I grew up and overcame this sensitivity (to some extent...). And he continued to shave for me every time I was allowed to visit him  in the hospital, in that agonizing, tragic year in which he was fighting pancreatic cancer and I was watching my baby brother who is ten years my junior in Tel Aviv all summer. 

Years later, that very brother, who my grandmother says looks so much like my grandfather did  in his youth, inherited the Old Spice bottle from the oldest brother, who inherited it from our grandfather. My little bother was the only one who really adopted that fragrance as his own. And when he ran out, he found more in Canada when he was living with me. He was 21 years at the time, and had worn it deliberately and enthusiastically in every form available – eau de toilette, after shave, body spray, deodorant, soap, you name it. It made the whole house smell like Old Spice and when he went through the whole ritual so to speak we were both sedated by all the clove and allspice in there. 

As I write this, I occasionally sniff my wrists, which are carefully doused with Old Spice's newest packaging (which you can see in the photos). It is no longer a splash bottle, but a spray of the cheapest kind. But I still like it. The writing is all in red, and so is the boat - which is much smaller. But the bottle still manages to stay true to its opaque white design - but not it is most certainly plastic of a creamy white rather than the bluish-grey milky white of yore.  

The scent is heavy yet heavenly. Familiar yet fantastic. Comforting yet seductive. What first comes to nose is cloves and allspice. So no wonder why it's called "Old Spice", right? Mystery solved! It's also sweet and carnation-like. A true spicy-oriental of the grand type. Yet there is also something very uncomplicated about it, which makes it so wearable and delicious. For a scent so inherently associated with barbershop and masculinity, it's a bit surprising how much bouquet there is in there. Although it's hardly what I would call "floral" - there is an unmistakable rose, jasmine and carnation at the heart, which really rounds it off. It's also surprising how sweet the base is, complete with vanillin and heliotropin. Really not what we've learned to consider "masculine" in our day and age. Drugstore fragrance or not - some things are simply priceless. The smell of my grandfather is one of them.

Top notes: Orange, Lemon
Hear notes: Carnation, Geranium, Jasmine, Rose, Cinnamon, Cloves, Allspice
Base notes: Coumarin, Vanilla, Heliotropin, Musk

Azzaro

It's been a while since I smelled the original Azzaro and it was almost as familiar as I wished. I could swear the mosses in there have been reduced. But its original, nonchalant Mediterranean charm still remains quite intact. Like Polo, it was launched in 1978, so it is no wonder this fragrance smells so familiar to me, reminding me of freshly shaven men that occasionally crossed my path as a child, and in many ways I believe this very particular scent has become a blueprint in my young memory to what "masculine" fragrances are. It may not have such an important status in North America, but in Europe - Azzaro is still the top selling fragrance for men, so my

The initial blast of lemon and lavender creates a sense of well-being and brings to mind the scents with which men of that generation would douse themselves when they wanted to come across as well-groomed and appeal to the ladies while at it. To a little girl, such scents were not unpleasant, but very foreign and to this day create in a sense the feeling of someone unfamiliar entering a space. This, of course, can be either mean a good thing or a not so good thing. But one thing is for certain: it does draw attention. 

Petitgrain supports the notion of cleanliness with its soapy quality, a mere suggestion here but gives it the unmistakable eau de cologne character. A hint of basil in juxtaposition to these citrus notes and mossy currents underneath bounces off the soapiness. It also creates the classic Mediterranean, relaxed and care-free, summery feel. There is also a hint of anise, which adds mysterious spicy accent, but mostly supports the anethole that is naturally occurring in basil leaf. 

In the heart, there is still plenty of citrus presence - but from lemongrass or citral (the characteristic lemony molecule which sells like lemon-drop and appears also in lemon verbena and many other lemon-scented herbs). And there is geranium leaf - a must for any respectable Fougère, where it adds rounded, fruity yet green freshness and more body. 

All this goodness dissipates within about 30 minutes on my skin, and is being replaced by a strange, slightly acrid balsamic-spicy note, reminiscent of steam-distilled Peru balsam essential oil and some vague spicy notes of eugenol. And for a while, this seems to dominate and all the other aspects that make Azzaro so lovable are all but gone.* But won't you worry: the oakmoss and cedarmoss will make a comeback at the dryout phase, alongside tart, almost citrusy vetiver note and a subtle musk that is reminiscent of clean, freshly-scrubbed-with-soap skin. 

Top notes: Lemon, Lavender, Anise

Heart notes: Petitgrain, Basil, Geranium, Lemongrass 

Base notes: Oakmoss, Cedarmoos, Musk, Vetiver 

* I am quite certain this has something to do either with my own (feminine) body chemistry, or with the reformulation. I'm quite certain this will smell a lot better on a man.

P.s. Anyone know why does the bottle have such an overwhelmingly unattractive design and unappealing, mustardy colour to boot? It seems to have nothing at all to do with the fragrance itself. 

Polo

Long time ago, in a country far away, I was a nanny in a busy household in which both parents had a career in filmmaking and production. I would show up at their place at 8:30 (which was a huge lifestyle improvement for me comparing to the first job, the year prior, which started at 8), and by 9am the parents and older brother were gone and I was left with the adorable one year old I took care of for the day.

It's a privilege to be entrusted with a child's life at such a tender age, not to mention being welcomed into a home like this and become almost like a family member; yet also a bit of an odd situation to be entering a family's daily life in a rather intimate moment - preparing for the day and saying goodbye to each other as they set off on their long day adventures. When I came in everyone were still at different stages of dressing, showering, eating breakfast and so on.

Because, not surprisingly, I was oddly interested in fragrance even back then - I will always remember certain things about their home, including the soap they used (it was Dove - which was a rather exotic thing in the early 90s in Tel Aviv - and for sure the dad brought it back from his many business trips to L.A.). There was also a bottle of Obsession in the bathroom, which he bought for his wife and she never wore (unfortunately, she's really not into perfumes whatsoever) and then there was the green bottle with a horse and a rider holding a strange long stick, clouds of which wafted every morning after the dad shaved.



I've never worn Polo and I can't say I have an intimate connection with it, but I did remember it as smelling good. So with Fathers' Day approaching and me feeling the urge to cover some more masculine fragrances on SmellyBlog - I set on trying it out for two days in a row now. The first time it was only semi-planned: I went to the drugstore to scout for some more cheap drugstore colognes and aftershaves. But I did not find what I was hoped for (Canoe). So I remembered that odd number and decided to try it on one wrist, and Eau Sauvage on the other. The latter was unfortunately a spoiled tester (too much light, folks!) while Polo simply won my heart almost immediately.

It's strong, bold and in your face so I'm glad I was wearing it sparingly. What one smells at first is that wonderful melange of patchouli, oakmoss and honeyed-animatic civet blooming in their warmth. And there is a decidedly leathery undercurrent that makes it really intriguing (and not wanting to scrub it off even though it is rather on the strong side). There are also many other things going on but these are the ones that I immediately pick up. Then as it unfolds on the skin, more fougere-like qualities pop out. Artemisia and other herbs mingle. I read that there are also thyme, basil and marjoram in this - but I can't really pick them out. There is just an overall feeling that is both sunny and warm like the Mediterranean garrigue - but also dark and looming against the leather. There is on one side a very smooth interplay of those rather distinctive elements. It's true that they go really well together in a red pasta sauce, a stew or even on bread with olive oil; but as perfume raw materials all these herbs are rather at odds with each other when combined with so many other perfume-y materials. They just don't like to behave!

There is also pine, which gives it a very distinctively masculine aura, as if to reassure you that all that civet is not going to turn floral on you. As Polo dries down on the skin, more of the dryness that comes out, accentuating the patchouli, and less of the civet notes (which are just this close to becoming as impolite as Kouros). Virginian cedar wood comes to the fore and mellows the more animalic elements, giving them a reliable context for an alibi (just in case someone walks by and suspects them of misbehaving).

Polo (1978) is at once sweaty, carnal, earthy, dirty, fresh, sexy, bold, distinctive, unique yet unmistakably manly. But what I adore the most about Polo is the dry down. Oh, the patchouli and the oakmoss, when they mellow on the skin after hours, and there is a bit of musk to connect them and balance the tartness of oakmoss and the dirty of patchouli. Why did they stop making scents like this for guys?!

Top notes: Pine, Lavender, Bergamot, Juniper, Coriander, Cumin
Heart notes: Carnation, Geranium, Jasmine, Rose, Basil, Marjoram, Thyme
Base notes: Patchouli, Oakmoss, Civet, Leather,  Amber, Musk, Frankincense 

English Lather

English Lather... No. It's not a typo. To me English Leather smells more like soap than it smells like leather. And analyzing the notes (again - what I'm smelling, not what the marketing material tells me) makes it bubble-clear why.

English Leather opens with suede-like notes of tobacco leaf and ionones, which are reminiscent of violets where they occur naturally. These are mingled with plenty of petitgrain, which soon enough takes over. Therefore, the leathery association end pretty quickly. The reason is not only this note's inherent dominant character; but also because it's more likely the actual material used here is linalyl acetate. Underneath it all there is plenty of coumarin to give it a very powdery-soapy character.  It really is more of a fresh tobacco leaf scent than a leather fragrance. Curiously, it brings to mind another violetty masculine classic, Geoffry Beene's Grey Flannel, a scent that is only one year my senior. As far as violetty masculines scents go, I find Grey Flannel cloying and overpowering, and am much more fond of English Leather. As far as tobacco-leaf fragrances, I much prefer my very own Sabotage. And as far as cheap classic drugstore scents, so far Tabac Original and Old Spice (which is next up on my to-review list) are both unsurpassable.

I don't know how English leather is supposed to smell, but I was thinking about saddle leather more than suede gloves. I have expected to be transported to the tack-room, but instead was sent straight to the shower for a scrub before I even got a chance to get dirty at all... I have a feeling its formula got scrubbed a bit since it was first created in 1949.



"Wear English Leather or wear nothing at all", says the box of the Soap-on-a-rope.
This daring slogan cannot be taken seriously. But it sure adds to the fun of exploring drugstore and barbershop colognes. Personally, what I'd like to wear with it on what smells like just-showered-skin is my baby-blue flannel pyjamas... I suspect it will smell more alluring and bold on a man though...

So let's move over to English Leather's Soap-on-a-Rope. That's a triple-milled white soap, stamped with the stirrup and accessorized with a white rope handle, in a sizeable length, enough to bring to mind Hitchcock's film. I am not certain what the tope is for, so can only guess that either men lose their soap bars quickly; or that they like to hang them to dry on the shower-head. I really did buy this one with someone in mind as a giftee, so I don't want to crack it open completely (plus I'm not particularly fond of milled soaps - and much prefer the artisan cold-processed ones, which can be made in much less drying formulae). I will only comment on the scent and report that it's even more cologne-like and far less reminiscent of leather, suede or anything of the like.

Tabac Original

Tabac Original by Mäurer & Wirtz (1959) was ignored by me for many years after I took one whiff of it in my early days, and dismissed it. I can't even remember what was it that turned me off it - but I vaguely recalled feeling it was too overbearing and just let it remain on the shelf at London Drugs while I explored and rather enjoyed other cheap thrills there.

Years have gone by, and on a long-in-the-making hunt for men's drugstore fragrances, spearheaded by the absence of Old Spice, I decided to get a bottle of this one before it might disappear. Except for that vague recollection of the scent from many years past, you could consider it a blind buy. There was no justification for this purchase except that it had the word "Tabac" in it, and I just invested over a week of my life researching and teaching the topic of tobacco fragrances to my students. I figured - if I own English Leather, I might as well get this one too.

So last week, when the above mentioned acquisition took place, I arrived home carrying as many as four masculine drugstore classics, including an 800 mL of 4711 Echt Kölnisch Wasser, and being $90 poorer (for all four scents combined - the latter was the most costly of the bunch, at $54; Tabac Original was another high-end purchase at $24.99; the others were Old Spice and Brut, each at just over or just below $10). But I will tell you more about those later this week, as I go through the very limited and neglected bunch of masculine scents in my fragrance collection.

Because the other scents were already familiar to me (and some, like Brut, I could even just open and smell without any trouble returning them if I change my mind) - I decided to take my chances and that very same afternoon, sprayed myself (first hesitantly, and then rather lavishly) with Tabac Original. In essence, I was simply wowed by its originality, that I was able to quickly forgive the complete absence of any representation of "Tabac". There is no tobacco to be sniffed out in this fragrance, not even after a week of wearing it pretty much daily.

The opening notes are a delicious concoction of spices that exhale confidence, polished masculinity, and are pleasant and remind yet also bold and unusual. The spices all have a woodsy-dry character, which are most befitting for a masculine fragrance: Allspice, black pepper and nutmeg are at the fore, chased after by dry ginger, and this trio comes across as warm-dry yet invigorating (no pastry association, surprisingly). There is also some lavender, hints of pine, petitgrain and other citrus notes which gives Tabac Original its freshly showered skin, soapy accent, which  provides a beautiful contrast and balance to the spices.



The lavender also adds an herbaceous, masculine floral nuance. The floral aspects are subtle, but can be also felt in the heart, where you might notice the clove-like presence of carnation, more soapy neroli, hints of geranium. But mostly what's present at the heart is an overdose of vetiver - or more likely, vetiverol - the vetiver alcohol that gives it the fresh and clean, tart-yet-sweet personality that is prevalent in Haitian vetivers more than any other variety. It's woody yet also gives off an almost juicy-citrusy feel, but also is very dry and elegant. This beautiful note is slightly balanced by hints of geranium, which also contributes to its masculine, dry-fresh and never overtly sweet character (even though if you'll notice - there is a lot going on here that could have made this sweet, if the perfumer only wanted it to go that direction). There is also a fair amount of alpha isomethyl ionone - which although does not occur in nature - it echoes the naturally occurring ionones in tobacco (though I am not sure I ever actually smell tobacco in there), and gives it some dry-violet, woody-floral nuances.

As we progress towards that base notes, the woodsy notes take over. And there isn't just vetiver - there is also cedar, and minute amounts of coumarin, which hint at the underlying flavour of a fine cured tobacco leaf, there is salty element too that is only vaguely reminiscent of oakmoss (there is non on the packaging, so perhaps they are now using evernyl, which is a very light and dry-smelling synthetic which vaguely resembles atranol-free oakmoss with non of its ambers-musky-mossy richness). But what really dominates the composition at the dry down is musk. And plenty of it. What we'd call "white musk", or the same musk combination you'd smell in musk oils that are sold in various shops offering fragrance oils (and often mistaking them for essential oils). Tabac Original thankfully develops this scent only many hours in, and until then it's mostly vetiver and spice and lavender goodness. It is one of the rare occasions when I care about the top and middle notes far more than the base notes - which I feel cheapen the otherwise superb composition.

If it weren't for Tabac Original humble origins on the Pharmacy's shelf, one would think it's the latest niche release from any of your favourite houses. Which just goes to show you how far do image and marketing go. It could have easily come from another respected historical Italian pharmacy-fragrance niche line, bottled in a simple apothecary bottle with the titled etched in the glass; Or carry a British heritage about the barber great-grandfather inventing it for some royalty or another; On the other hand - if Tom Ford were to market it, there would be some closeup of his unshaven cheeks with erotic  suggestions of thick white lather, perhaps licked off by a couple of famished-looking naked models (their gender is yet to be determined). Instead we have a very humble packaging that might have seemed cutting edge and compteporary in the early 1960s, but now looks arcane yet honest:
"TABAC ORIGINAL Eau de Toilette is a modern fragrance with intensive lasting strength. Masculine, expressive, individual. A fragrance that underlines your personality" (quote taken from the back of the box for this fragrance). 

Tabac Original also comes in a variety of shaving and grooming products such as a shaving soap and an after shave (on which I can not comment meaningfully, because try as I may, my beard never develops to more than a stubble, and the moustache I sport is limited to Movember's paper touché). But a glimpse into one of those vlogs makes shaving look like a rather sensual ritual that I will look forward to in my next incarnation, in which I hope to spend my entire days lathering soap and playing with the foam for hours on end.

Top Notes: Black Pepper, Allspice, Nutmet, Ginger, Citrus, Pine
Heart Notes: Lavender, Petitgrain, Neroli, Geranium, Vetiver
Base Notes: Vetiver, Sandalwood, Cedarwood, Musk 

Égoïste

Égoïste by Chanel, although officially released by this name in 1990, is a true child of the 80's: bold, clear and with a definite presence that is unmistakable with others. It is one of the most delicious woody fragrances designed for men, not to mention its got the most dramatic yet humorous, wonderfully timed perfume commercial I've ever laid eyes upon, rivaled only by the marvellous Old Spice, which is really for a shower gel so I guess that does not really count. Perhaps it's because Prokofiev's "Dance of the Knights" from the ballet Romeo and Juliet has a way of sending shivers down my spine; and perhaps because I've been always intrigued by the use of "negative" titles for perfumes. The guy who chooses to wear it might be perfectly sweet, honest and dependable - but that should not stop them from fantasizing about taking over a whole building full of screaming females.

Sadly, Europeans are rather egotistic in keeping this beauty to themselves and it is nowhere to be found on North American soil. So, on my last stopover at Schipol airport, I picked up a chunky 100ml bottle of this masculine gem, a size that I generally avoid. This is obviously designed for a larger fist, and should last me a lifetime, because there is no man in sight with whom I can share this beauty.

Égoïste is the younger and louder brother of the demure, soft-spoken and old-fashioned Bois des Îles. It opens with a burst of dry yet sweet melange of woods, citrus and spice. It actually reminds me of another favourite 80's fragrance, which is also drenched in sandalwood: Samsara (which reportedly had a glutenous 40% Mysore sandalwood). There is no true separation between top and heart and base as they weave in and out in different phases of the perfume. At first, there is the clarity of bois de rose (rosewood), the led-pencil shaving association of Virginia cedarwood, and the sweet citrus burst of tangerine and a sprinkle of sweet cassia. There is also a hint of eugenol, not quite clove like, but softer - perhaps form carnations. Underlying notes of coumarin backed up with a generous dose of vanilla absolute. There is something about true vanilla absolute that is simultaneously woody and animalic, quite unlike the cupcake frosting character of vanillin. Égoïste's vanilla really brings this out with some help of both indole and leathery animalic notes. which add interest. It is quite well balanced between sweet, bitter, smooth, spicy and powdery - although admittedly leaning towards the sweet more so than I would have expected (or remember the original to be).

The sandalwood is not as creamy as its sister Bois des Îles (probably because what I have in my hands is a rather modern version, very unlikely containing any Mysore sandalwood) - but that also gives is an edge somehow - it's warmer and more spicy and dry than I remembered it from a few years back. It seems to be accompanied by Atlas cedar's suave fruitiness, and perhaps even a splash of violet-y ionones and plum and rose notes from damascones.

I would hardly consider anyone wearing Égoïste selfish - anyone around you is going to enjoy it too!
Beware: Egoiste Platinum has nothing to do with it besides the name, and is the only version you'll find in Canada and the USA, and to my nose it smells like generic sporty aquatic chemical trash. But it has a wonderful ad as well!



Top notes: Rosewood, Tangerine, Virginia Cedarwood
Heart notes: Rose, Cassia (Cinnamon), Carnation
Base notes: Sandalwood, Coumarin, Atlas Cedarwood, Vanilla, Leather

Prada Ambre Intense Pour Homme

Lighthouse Park, a photo by jimoftheday on Flickr.

Is it randomness or is it fate, which will forever link a certain fragrance with a certain place? Perhaps even a little of both... But the result is the same, and will forever be engrained in my brain, psyche, heart - call it what you may.

Prada Ambre Intense Pour Homme is not exactly what you'd wear on a hike on a sunny and warm May day, but that's precisely what I will forever associate it with. Sitting on the rocks and trying to figure out what's in it - and whether I like it or not.

I'm re-visiting it again tonight, after stopping at Oakridge Mall on the way to the train station. Historic moment, by the way: in an unprecedented moment, a sales associate at The Bay has voluntarily offered to take $10 off a bottle just to make a sale... Three hours later, I wish I took her up on that.

Prada Ambre Intense Pour Homme begins like a mist of citrus peel with florals thrown in the mix - the familiar crystalline feel of bergamot, and some tangering and orange. Non of which is strong enough, of course, to cover up the brownie, chocolatey, delicious earthiness that's lurking underneath.

First comes amber, with a load of benzoin; then the bergamot makes a second entrance, only to be pushed away by a clean, woody patchouli that almost smells like cedar. The amber and patchouli remain the main components for the next three hours, feeling a little too crystalline and transparent to my taste at first; but becoming more bold and dominant and deep, with only sandalwood occasionally making some white noise, and vanilla that is almost chocolatey and edible. Lastly, a familiar note of vetiver joins in and adds an extra layer of wood that is clean, elegant and delightful.

Prada Ambre Intense Pour Homme has a long and clumsy name, but it's well constructed, with a structure similar to the great Shalimars of the past, and could be easily worn by both men and women, as long as they go hiking with it.

A Scent of a Man

I'd take pumpkin pie and lavender ANY DAY over Good & Plenty and cucumber... And smoke is one of the sexiest scents there are, in my humble opinion, not to mention there are more than a handful of men's colognes that I love smelling, with or without a man attached to them.
Do women really have that bad of a taste in fragrance, or am I just an oddball?!

The Los Angeles Times talks about masculine scents in "A scent of a man".

Put Your Nose Into Use: Father's Day Fragrance Picking

Dior's Eau Sauvage ad

René Gruau

The following is pretty much a summary of the presentation given at my Espionage Tea Party last week. My apologies for taking forever to put this together... I hope you find it useful and wish you all a happy and fragrant Father's Day!

Since it is Father’s Day today, and I’m sure all of you are just dying to finally get your dad to smell nice instead of getting him a tie, a toolbox or an iPad - the topic of masculine fragrances is inevitable. The thing is – we don’t really know what is it about scents that make them masculine. Somehow, we just seem to be able to tell once we smell them, yet without explanation. Is there truly a gender distinction in fragrance? Or is it just that we were programmed that way? Let’s find out.

The entire concept of gender-specific scents did not come into place until recently. India and Arabia, the two most ancient perfume civilizations that have maintined their olfactory culture to this day, pay little attention to such notions and wear whatever scents they find attractive and appealing, flowers included: Indian men love to wear jasmine, and Arab men have always adored roses.

The Western consumers, however, are obsessed with two conflicting concepts when choosing a fragrance: sexuality and cleanliness. The way this translates into the fragrance industry and the products we smell (or not) is quite fascinating. For example: Western perfumes have been for the most part gender-specific for the past 100 years or so, to the point that the world of men’s fragrance seems to have developed their own jargon, separate from the technicalities and specifications that perfumers normally would relate to. For example: you cannot, under any circumstances, expect to call a product “perfume” and expect men to buy into it. Perfume, as it turns out, is perceived as a completely girly and dainty affair. Men would only buy a scent if it’s called “aftershave”, “fragrance” or as it is most often referred to in North America - “Cologne”: a name that has very little to do with the true meaning of the term – which refers to a very light concentration of fragrance, and usually in a citrus-herbaceous category, intended for used mostly for hygienic purposes – and has direct lineage to the “Aqua Mirabillis” of medieval times.

Technicalities aside, the aesthetics of Western “masculine perfumery” pose an interesting challenge for the perfumer. The palette seems to be so much more limited than that which is “allowed” in feminine perfumes. Therefore, masculine fragrances seem to have reached a certain plateau in innovation that is only occasionally shuttered by original or slightly gender-bending scents.

So let’s break a few myths on the topic:

Myth: no. 1: “If a man wears a perfume designed for women, it will make him smell like a girl”.
Reality: Men (or women) who think that way are forgetting the last yet most important ingredient in a fragrance, which is no other than the wearer’s own skin odour!
Each skin has a completely different scent, affected by the diet and metabolism of the person, as well as their own gender’s pheromone makeup. Men and women have a different body chemistry. Therefore, what truly makes a fragrance “masculine” or “feminine” smelling is the person who is wearing it!

By nature, men have a body odour that is more musky and sharp, and women have a body odour that is more ambery and soft. If the perfumer will try to compare these into specific notes, I’d say that the closest notes to a man’s body odour might combine notes such as sandalwood, costus, cumin, hay, patchouli, vetiver, oakmoss and tonquin musk. A woman’s body odour can be best imitated with notes such as labdanum, vanilla, benzoin, civet and honey absolute.

So, don’t forget that your skin is the real “base” for your perfume, and that what matters is how it smells on it! Be adventurous, and if you like the smell of amber, rose, tuberose or violet - don’t be shy and try them on. They will smell completely different than on a woman. Take my word for that.

Myth no. 2: “floral notes are feminine and are best avoided when choosing a scent for a man”.
Reality: Attributing floral notes (or any notes, for that matter), to one gender or another is for the most part culturally based and once presented to an individual from a different culture, will likely lose its meaning (as in the example of rose and jasmine I brought earlier). If Arab men feel comfortable enough with their masculinity when wearing soft and voluptuous roses, I can’t see any reason why to avoid this note (or any other floral note, for that matter), in fragrances designed to be worn by men.

The following are just a few examples of floral notes in perfumes that could be very “masculine” in character.

Rose Geranium - the floral fruity rosy yet minty, green and herbaceous qualities make this note perfect for masculine perfumes, which is why it is used extensively in perfumes from the Fougère family.

Orange Flower Absolute - Great for colognes and citruses of all types, but it can also be used for a more surprising, even a cutting edge oriental masculine fragrance. Orange blossom is often a heart note in tobacco based scents, to add a bit of indolic sweetness, fruitiness and a sparkle to the dry tannin notes.

Jasmine Grandiflorum - sweet and well rounded, widely used in masculine perfumes to bridge between sharp top notes and musky or mossy base notes.

Jasmine Sambac – this variety is more fruity and a tad more green (but in a very delicate way) than the grandiflorum, Sambac is an interesting addition to a men's scent, thought rarely used in Western perfumery.

Champaca - this spicy and heady tea-like and somewhat fruity exotic floral blends seamlessly into masculine compositions, such as Orientals and leathery types. It’s very cost prohibitive which is why you’re unlikely to find it in mainstream fragrances though.

Rose – as I mentioned earlier, rose can be somewhat of a challenge for the Western nose, particularly if trying to use it as a main note. But it certainly has a role in many male fragrances, even if it’s not as noticeable. Up until the late 19th century, it was actually still quite popular in bouquets for handkerchief fragrances for men, including also other soft florals such as violet and iris.

Carnation - a soft spicy floral note that is commonly used in Fougères.

Myth no. 3: “some notes are masculine, and some notes are feminine”.
Reality: As you’ve seen in the previous myth-crushing segment, context is everything. More than individual notes having specific gender, I would say the manner in which they interact with one another and the mood and personality they create is what truly matters. One thing that is true though, is that if thinking of the philosophical terms of what “masculine” and “feminine” mean, we could, perhaps, make the distinction between notes that are “projective” as opposed to notes that are “receptive”. Notes that approach you as opposed to notes that draw you in. This might explain why notes such as citrus, herbs and spices are often considered more masculine and are used in abundance in masculine fragrances (they simply “come and get you”), while other notes – more round and “receptive” so to speak, such as the floral and ambery notes, can be more readily perceived as “feminine”. Still, don’t let yourself forget that what really matters is how all these notes interact with one another. The question you should ask yourself is if the perfume itself “projective” or “receptive”.

For various reasons which I’ll attempt to explain in a moment, the archetypal masculine fragrances of Western perfumery belong mostly to four major fragrance families:

Citrus, Fougère, Woody-Oriental, and the Leather/Tobacco (the latter being a sub-category of the Chypre family – which is mostly feminine otherwise). So, when you smell a scent and recognize an immediate “masculine” character, what you are in fact recognizing is a fragrance family!

There are some historical and cultural reasons for those families being so strongly associated with men’s grooming, as well as some that are founded in the nature of masculine pheromones and men’s natural body odour.

THE ART OF SHAVING
Historically speaking, the art of shaving has a great influence on modern masculine fragrances. The Romans brought men’s grooming to heights that no other civilization have dared to explore before, resulting in a more sophisticated men’s grooming culture, some of which has survived to this day.

Fragrant aftershaves serve the purpose of disinfecting scrapes, cuts and wounds that occur during shaving, as well as sooth, soften and moisturize the skin afterwards. The essential oils of citrus peels, and herbs and spices such as bay leaf, juniper, lavender and allspice have disinfecting properties, as well as softening and conditioning the skin. It is through those associations of men’s shaving and grooming rituals that we learned to associate certain scents with masculinity. For example: Bay-Rum aftershave, which is a spicy concoction of allspice, cinnamon, cloves, bayberry, bay leaves and orange peel steeped in rum has a strong connection to the composition of the classic men’s fragrance Old Spice.

Most aftershaves contain notes such as citrus and herbs, chosen originally for their astringent and antibacterial properties, and later on by association became an olfactory trademark of masculinity, which is most evident in the Fougère fragrance family – which is based on the contrast between herbaceous lavender, musky oakmoss and powdery-soft coumarin; and the citrus-fantasy fragrance family.

FOREST PHEROMONES
There is a reason why woody scents are associated with masculine scents: Sandalwood oil has a unique chemical make up that is quite similar to androstenol – a pheromone found in men’s sweat. But sandalwood is not the only woody notes found in abundance in masculine fragrances – cedarwood comes to mind, with its distinct lumber and pencil shaving aroma. Perhaps we have also learned to associate woodworking with masculinity because most of the manual labour was done by men through centuries? But who cares, as long as it smells good!

Guiacwood, with its smoky and honeyed aroma is also a prominent note in tobacco scents. Other woodsy notes commonly found in masculine fragrances are not necessarily derived from woods, for example: patchouli (the dried, cured leaves of an East Indian herb from the mint family) and vetiver, from the root of a tropical grass which comes in a range of varieties from smoky to clean and nearly citrusy.

SEXY GRASS AND SWEATY CUMIN
Some notes have a pretty literal explanation as far as the origin of their sex appeal, to the point that could verge on the vulgar if it’s not played right. Fresh cut grass resembles the scent of a certain masculine secretion, while cumin resembles the scent of men’s sweat. Both can be very appealing – or repelling, depending on the particular scent they are in and how much you apply.

The fresh cut grass note can be fresh and clean-smelling with a subtext that hints at sexual vigor and fertility yet without sending everyone screaming to the opposite direction… Cumin, with its sweet and musky tenacity, rather than smelling dirty to the point of questioning the wearer’s hygienic habits – will create a comfortable and alluring sense of intimacy.

How To Pick a Fragrance for a Man?

Now to the fun part, and the most challenging of all: how to pick a scent for a man as a gift? This is particularly tricky if you are trying to surprise him, and even more so - if you don't know him very well.

Despite my dislike for making generalizations about large sections of the population, I think it would be safe to say that the majority of men (with the rare exception of male perfumista) won’t readily admit they are interested in scents. It’s unlikely they will wear any fragrance, unless:

1) Their girlfriend (or any other significant female figure in their life) bought them a cologne for Christmas or another special occasion
2) They are deeply convinced that wearing a scent will attract a partner

Therefore, it becomes the women’s responsibility to educate and manipulate the men’s olfactory lives, be it by gifting them with fragrance, or openly commenting on how they happen to smell like.

My male clients are dear to me not only because they are so rare, but also because they have sensibilities about the olfactory world that are different than women’s. In my upcoming tea party I aim to educate my men to take their olfactory life into their own hands, and dare to wear what they like. But for the rest of my clients (admittedly, mostly ladies) – why won't you try to pick a scent that has the potential of captivating your man’s imagination and appealing to his own sensibilities. Men, even if they don’t admit it as readily as women, enjoy and appreciate scent very much, if they are only allowed to believe that it’s important and not overtly self-indulgent!

But how could you tell what they would like?
Part of it is intuition, and part of it is logic. People tend to be drawn to similar types of scents, aromas and flavours in real life, many of which can be found in natural perfumery!

The following tips will give you ideas about how you can gather information about a man’s olfactory preferences, without asking them too many questions. If you know the person for a long time, this might be easier. But if you don’t know him, a quick look around his home and taking notice of his favourite foods and which drinks he orders at the bar might provide you with just enough sufficient information.

When ordering food in the restaurant – does he tend to order spicy or aromatic foods, or is he simply a “meat and potato” kind of guy? If he likes spices, mostly likely he will also enjoy fragrance that incorporate them, e.g.: Spicy Orientals such as Opium, Habit Rouge or Épice Sauvage. If his palate does not seem as sophisticated, you may just want to go with a “safe” classic fragrance from the citrus or Fougère family, i.e.: Azzaro.

If he likes to drink gin and tonic, see how he likes a scent with juniper berries or citrus, such as Arsenal; or if he likes scotch, he probably will also appreciate Espionage’s peaty and full-bodied malty qualities, or enjoy something smoky, e.x. Bvlgari Black. And for the coffee lover – there are quite a few gourmand type fragrances with a pronounced coffee notes, such as Yohji Homme, Thierry Mugler's AMen Pure Coffee - or how about an exotic dermitasse of Finjan, a dark-roasted Turkish coffee scent?

And if you have a chance to spy on his house, see what you find in different rooms about scents and products he uses without raising suspicion.

In the kitchen:

What’s in his spice rack (if he’s got one)? What Herbs does he like to cook with? What kind food or drinks does he keep in his fridge? For example: if he likes herbs such as basil or oregano, it’s likely that he would also appreciate an aromatic Fougère that incorporates these notes, or a citrus with a sprinkle of herbs. If he likes fruity soft drinks, he might also enjoy a fragrance that has a hint of fruit or berries.

In the bathroom:

This is probably where he keeps all his grooming products, fragrance included (although I wouldn’t count on these to determine his personal taste! Like I said, these were probably chosen for him by a girlfriend in high school that thought it was very sexy, and now he’s just stuck with it for life, as well as all his future girlfriends, wives, daughters and granddaughters…). But it’s very likely that the choices he makes about innocent and less indulgent scented products such as shower gel, hand-soap, shampoo, soap bar etc. may give you a better insight into his true scent preferences.

Favourite Father's Day Scents

Munich Airport - Terminal II, originally uploaded by yushimoto_02 (having a longer break) [christian].

Happy Father’s day to you all – fathers and grandfathers and everyone that celebrates with you. Check my newsletter for some fatherly thoughts for the day. For today on SmellyBlog, I decided to make a list of my favourite manly fragrances.

I haven’t tried nearly enough masculine fragrances, especially when comparing them to all the “feminine” scents I have tried. However I do have a few favourites and Father’s Day seems to be a good time to mention them – as well as a few significant males in my life.

1. Eau Sauvage
Always at the top of my masculine scents, Eau Sauvage is THE classic men’s fragrance there is. It was perfectly made by Edmond Roudniska and the combination of spacious hedionic jasmine with mossy base and herbaceous-citrus top notes is unbelievably gorgeous. I can’t think of any man in particular that I’ve known that worn it, but it always brings a sense of familiarity and recognition when I smell it.

2. Old Spice
An old-time classic and my grandfather used it regularly, but if you think it’s “too old” think twice; - my 21 year old brother adores it and wears it with passion in every form available – eau de toilette, after shave, body spray, deodorant, soap, you name it. It makes the whole house smell like Old Spice and when he goes through the whole ritual so to speak we are both sedated by clove and allspice.

3. Yerbamate
Rich, bold and green - this fougere has something quirky about it even though one of my customers claims it smells exactly like Canoe by Dana (that can be had for a fraction of the price). I have nothing to compare it to (Canoe pops up in drugstore only once in a Christmas-y blue moon) but I’m all the same curious.

4. Egoiste
With its soft, creamy sandalwood, Egoiste is the masculine answer to Bois des Iles and you really need not be selfish to enjoy it – I’m sure those around it will appreciate it too. Beware: Egoiste Platinum has nothing to do with it besides the name. Unfortuantley, it is not available in Canada – at least not on the West Coast.

5. Bel Ami
Bel Ami is dressed up entirely in leather like a hardcore fetishist, yet manages to conceal all that with its well-mannered attitude and elegance that has become the signature element in all the perfumes that come from the house of Hermes. I don’t smell it often on people around me, and I wish I did.

6. M7
Without being either particularly masculine or feminine, M7 is just different from what is out there among the thousands of department store fragrances. And that says something. It’s woody and sweet and although not exactly as oud-y as I would have liked it to be, it is a good way to get initiated into the secret society of oud admirers. If you’ll stay there long enough you may get to smell the real musty animalic wood. I think this would be my youngest brother’s next fragrance gift from me, since he’s always been fond of woods (Tam Dao and Dior Homme have become staples in his collection).

7. Cool Water
I’m just as surprised as you are to find this in my list of favourites or at all mentioned on SmellyBlog. . Just for reference: I used to compare Cool Water to a jacuzzi spray cleaner back in the day. Sometimes it’s all about the context, and even the most common, overly used and most synthetic cologne of them all can smell like a special perfume on the right person. I am fortunate to have had that experience and now I am quite fond of it – even though you won’t find me calling it a masterpiece anytime soon.

8. Bvlgari Black
Smoke, rubber and tea are hardly anything that one would imagine would go well together, let alone in a perfume. Bvlgari Black proves that darkness can be warm and cozy even with the strangest elements, and it has that addictive lapsang suchong tea note that echos the tea notes present in most (if not all) Bvlgari’s fragrances. It would make a perfect scent for my oldest brother, Yotam, who is particularly fond of the scents of gas stations and

9. Poivre Samarkand
Another favourite of my peppery brother Noam, it just smells incredible on him and in fact on all the people that I have come across smelling. It turns up more frequently that I would expect on the Latin dance floors which can be a relief in more ways than I can explain (compensation for lack of sense of rhythm is one instance).

10. Guerlain’s Vetiver
A very non-perfumey fragrance – Guerlain’s Vetiver is clean, fresh, citrusy and classy. It can be embraced by nature lovers and fragrance lovers alike, and can please both the country mouse and the city mouse – not to mention both sexes. If my second brother Yohai were to wear a fragrance again, I imagine it to be something like that.

11. Terre d’Hermes
A new discovery for me, and since vetiver is taking a very fond spot in my heart, I don’t feel ashamed of having two of this category here today. It is balanced, elegant, edgy, universal and still masculine enough to want to smell on a man.

12. L’Herbe Rouge
This is my quite personal interpretation of the scent of a man. Of course I have a history with it by now, and it’s too long to be told now. Ironically, it does make me travel in time just like the book that inspired it is all about. Now it belongs to a man of my past and a great love. And when I smell it that bittersweet longing for someone I lost creeps in and makes me wonder if I should ever let a man close to me wear my own fragrances. It is particularly dangerous to seal chapters of my life with my own perfumes.

Kouros

The greek hero 2, originally uploaded by fiumeazzurro.

Kouros is one of those powerhouse perfumes of the 80’s that seem to divide people and rarely gets a lukewarm reaction. The only exception is my brother: all he’s got to say about it was “it’s nice”. Perhaps the fact that he likes dosing in limitless amounts of Old Spice on a daily basis might explain a thing or two.

Kouros is unmistakably sexual and it’s impossible for me to see it in any other way. Without smelling literally of sex (as in “Magnificent Secretions”), it is dead-on rough, raw, dirty outdoor sex smell.

I first tried Kouros over a year ago and found it too potent for the time so I stayed away from it for a while. Today, coming back to it to continue my tribute week to YSL I immediately remembered what Katie of Scentzilla said about Poison and the word “humping” kept popping into my mind uncontrollably. Another thing that I couldn’t help thinking about was the orgy scene of Pan in Jitterbug Perfume. Kouros doesn’t just dry-hump your leg, it goes all the way even if uninvited, half animal and half human, it gets all messy and is not in the least apologetic about it either.

The notes are not easy to isolate in my mind and there is not much literature about it on the internet either. The most comprehensive list of notes can be found on Bois de Jasmin (and I don’t know what’s the source for it, neither can I pin point all of these notes either). So I’ll offer you as usual my attempt at describing the evolution of the fragrance as objectively as possible (if it ever is).

kouros, originally uploaded by wvfonseca.

Kouros opens with an expansive array of notes that are at once herbaceous, spicy and sharp (and might be perceived as “fresh” by some). There is a sense of familiarity at first, resemblence to perhaps another masculine perfume (it could be either English Leather or Tabac Original – I could not find my references as some of my perfumes had to be temporarily stored away, so will have to check later) but at the same time it is nearly unbearably potent as well as awkward. Something about it makes me think of the original Chypre compositions, those made in the island of Cyprus from a mix of dried herbs and a paste of oakmoss and labdanum and resins. The notes are all very well blended as they have coupled with each other and have lost their distinct identities. I can sense the presence of familiar Mediterranean mountain herbs such as sage and perhaps bay leaf or rosemary, lavender and wormwood. The spices I cannot make out but one note is distinctively present – the intensely animalic fragrance of honey combs of dark, rich honey from wild thorny flowers with the scent of propolis still lingering in. It is almost sickeningly sweet and medicinal at the same time. Another note that stands out is that of labdanum, a resinous, ambery oleoresin from the rockrose bushes (also grown on the Mediterranean mountains and hillsides) and a pulsating undercurrent of costus, with its musky goat-like horns that is perhaps the reason why Pan jumps into the picture. As the perfume settles on the skin, the honey and labdanum get rounder and warmer, and the spices and herbs calm down and let go of their sharpness. Indolic notes take the stage with jasmine and civet being the most prominent and only hingts or rose-geranium that give it a more complex, perfumey bouquet. There is also a hint of dryness at the base, though still animalic, from what I believe to be a tobacco note. The drydown is mostly honeyed-ambery yet with the animalic aspect still in place and some dryness of oakmoss and tobacco. Overall, Kouros is sunny, heavy, spicy Chypre reminiscent of blood and sweat.

Top notes: Sage, Bay Leaf, Wormwood, Lavender
Heart notes: Honey, Jasmine, Rose Geranium
Base notes: Labdanum, Costus, Musk, Civet, Tobacco, Patchouli

Gaucho - The End of a Journey

Cansando o cavalo, originally uploaded by Eduardo Amorim.

Crisp. Bright. Sweet. Melancholic. Herbaceous. Where Spring meets Autumn and Autumn meets something else... I knew it but I only had to make the grass grow in the right direction now.

The end of my search for those final drops that will make or break my Gaucho schemes was certainly the most challenging part. Too much was at stake now so my adventurous side was a bit timid (a disadvantage?); On the other hand, I was so close I knew what I need is just the minute amount of the right essences, and it would be perfect. Jasmine auriculatum in minuscule amount seemed to be adding the right effect - rounding off like this indespensable floral note yet without smelling like a flower. I wanted more bitterness though. Would wormwood be too much? I think not... Let's just try it and if it doesn't we'll have to start all over again... Yes, just this tiny bit was perfect. Getting very close now... But something IS missing. Something to add to the quirky, unusual side of things. All of a sudden I realize: booze. Yes, booze to let my Gaucho a little loose... The formidable green cognac absolute. In this context not so much as a booze breath, but rather adding a juicy, green-grape quality, chiming like a crystal bell with the galbanum top notes. Perhaps even metallic. All of a sudden it's the brass band in a Steely Dan intro, streaming vocals filtered through studio acoustic effects and all blending together into oneness.

Crisp. Bright. Sweet. Melancholic. Herbaceous. Where Spring meets Autumn and Autumn meets something else... This is where my Gaucho was heading, with herds of cows and spreading wilderness ahead of its horse. It was time to set my Gaucho free, let him loose to meet the world outside of my mind's internal trails and grasslands.

Well, the big day has finally arrived March 21st 2008: it's time for Gaucho to go to his journey on his own. This time to meet new people around the world. For a limited time only, it will be packaged in a different shape of bottle than the rest of my collection - a crystal-clear rectangular bottle rather than the frosted teardrop one. After all, this is my first big release that is decidedly masculine (even though the first two customers who bought it were ladies).

Male Perspective on l'Instant de Guerlain

Archaeological cocktail, originally uploaded by Ignissa.

I spent the better part of the morning with my friend Elliot* browsing the Guerlain counter in downtown Vancouver in search for nothing more than the fabulous Guerlain “fan” – that beautiful display article that shows the different notes, inspiration and bottle designs etc. for a wide array of the (used to be widely distributed) Guerlain scents. I promised Elliot that I will come with him to find the legendary fan (last time he came searching for it they pulled out a fan sprayed lavishly with “Insolence” and waved it at his nose). On that I got a report that immediately cracked me up: “Insolence is sold with the requisite images of pouting, pulsing hot-eyed young damsels, but the scent reminds me of my Great-Aunt Doris - sweet, powdery and cloying”.

The aforementioned fan (i.e. the one we were looking for), normally displayed openly, is now kept behind locked cabinets and hidden so well that it was nowhere to be found at Sears, and only to be found by a twist of faith at The Bay (the Guerlain rep accidentally came through the counter on her 10 o’clock lunch break).

As we were waiting around I couldn’t help but conduct a little private market research on my friend. For background – Elliot is a born Maritimer, Caucasian male in his early 40’s, creative, witty and intelligent and while not quite your typical male fragrance user, I noticed that he quite keen on carrying intelligent conversations and arguments with me on the topic of olfactory experiences and his own memories through the sense of smell.

I started my little survey with l’Instant de Guerlain (pour homme of course), which oblivious to the paper-stripe rituals, he decided to spritz straight on his wrist – Elliot had produced such a boldly remark that I couldn’t help but curiously insert various masculine Guerlain scents under his nose and try to memorize his reaction immediately so I can report back here. So here goes – in a very manly style, just few words and at the very most a sentence or two to describe some of the leading masculine scents from the esteemed house of Guerlain, described by a complete fragrance novice:

Vetiver – Incense, church; smells like an altar boy.

Eau de Cologne Imperiale – wow! For something that dated I would have not expected it to smell so fruity and edible. It really makes me think of food like no other scent.

Heritage – unoriginal, makes you crave a melon fruit-salad.

L’Instant de Guerlain pour Homme – let me remind you that this was the scent that originally started this tirade of masculine perfume commentary. Let me just say that the first remark has established in my mind that men may very likely have a completely different evaluation systems that other organisms. In this case, Elliot seemed to have quite spontaneously develop a scent rating system that is based on how low it makes his testicles hang (sorry ladies, I am trying to bring some of the original wording used in the scene of the crime – so there you have it now… (Habit Rouge, strangely enough, has only got a halfway-down-testicle rating on Elliot’s system). For those who can't get the idea and need it spelled out to them (like me), this means how masculine the scent is perceived by the male evaluator. Hopefully it will provide some useful insights into the male brain (or not).

When repatedly smelling l’Instant pour Homme, visions of growing sideburns have recurred and intensified every time he got back to either the scent stripes or his wrist… and to use some of the terms he used to describe l’Instant I’ll just quote him now with no commentary of my own: “charge of the light brigade” and “military, soldiers of the 19th century” (which he later illustrated to me in his little orange pocket sketchbook – a stiff little soldier a-la Carmen’s Don Jose encased in his 19th century uniform with sideburns growing with every inhale of l’Instant’s march tune.

I will never be able to look at the Guerlain counter the same way ever again, and for a change, l'Instant pour Homme will not be ignored by me next time but rather inhaled or applied before I go to the next mask ball dressed as a man to complete the illusion.

* The name is completely fictional, to ensure my friend fears no criticism when coming up with more witty remarks about perfumes in the future. That was the only way I could have gotten permission to publish these here today…

What Makes a Fragrance Masculine?

Model, originally uploaded by fiumeazzurro.

The topic of what makes a fragrance masculine comes up very often in the natural perfumery forum I belong to: which notes re “masculine”? How to construct a “masculine” fragrance? Can flowers be used in masculine fragrances?

Today being father’s day, I figured I’ll take advantage of the situation and talk about the entire concept of masculine scents. Not so much from the wearer’s point of view, but from that of the perfumer, when designing a scent in such a way that it will appeal to men and will not scare them off chased by flowers…

So let’s break a few myths on the topic:

Myth: no. 1: “If a man will wear a perfume for woman he will smell feminine”.
Reality: A perfumer who thinks that way is forgetting the last yet most important component that is added to a perfume, and on which the perfumer has no control over: the wearer’s skin odour. Each skin has a completely different scent, affected by the diet and metaolism of the person for one thing – and their own gender’s pheromonal makeup. Men and women do not have the same scent. Therefore, what truly makes a fragrance “masculine” or “feminine” smelling is the person who is wearing it.

Naturally, men have a body odour that is more musky and sharp, and women have a body odour that is more ambery and soft. If the perfumer will try to compare these into specific notes, I’d say that the closest notes to a man’s body odour might combine notes such as sandalwood, costus, cumin, hay, patchouli, vetiver, oakmoss and ambrette. A woman’s body odour can be best described olfactorily by notes such as labdanum, vanilla, benzoin and honey absolute (with labdanum being the closest I suppose).

So, don’t forget the base upon which the perfume will be worn, and how this surface smells like. It will all boil down to this…

Myth no. 2: “floral notes are feminine and are best avoided when composing a masculine fragrance”.
Reality: Attributing floral notes (or any notes, for that matter), to one gender or another is completely culturally based and once presented to a different culture, may completely lose its meaning. I like to bring the examples of how fond the Arab men were of roses, and how jasmine is traditionally considered a masculine perfume in India. If Arab men felt comfortable enough with their masculinity when wearing soft and voluptuous roses, I can’t see why avoiding this note (or any other floral note, for that matter), in fragrances designed to be worn by a man.

The following are just a few examples of how I like to use floral notes in perfumes that I consider very “masculine” in character.

Rose Geranium - the floral fruity rosy and herbal qualities make this
note perfect for masculine perfumes. It can be added for its sweetness as well as adding a herbal, slightly green aspect to the overall impression.

Orange Flower Absolute - Great for colognes and citruses of all types, but it can also be used for a more surprising, even a cutting edge oriental masculine fragrance - i.e.: using labdanum, vetiver, sandalwood, and spicy top notes for interest and depth. Orange blossom is also great as a heart note in tobacco based scents, to add a bit of indolic
sweetness, fruitiness and a sparkle to the dry leather notes.

Jasmine Grandiflorum - sweet and well rounded, this can be confidently used in masculine perfumes to bridge between sharp top notes and musky or mossy base notes. Try mixing it with lime, basil, lemongrass, lemon verbena, cloves absolute, tarragon, hay, oakmoss, vetiver, patchouli, fir absolute, and more. You’ll be surprised at how jasmine can transform these notes (and they definitely transform the jasmine too!).

Jasmine Sambac – this variety is more fruity and a tad more green (but in a very
delicate way) than the grandiflorum, Sambac is an interesting addition to a men's scent. Also great with tobacco, sandalwood, and green or herbal notes (i.e.: lemongrass, galbanum, rosemary, juniper)

Champaca - this spicy and heady tea-like and somewhat fruity exotic floral blends seamlessly into masculine compositions. Works great with spices, other fruity floral notes (geranium bourbon, rose, chamomile, etc.) and if you use a bold base with a definite statement, champaca will become masculine in an off-beat, daring way.

Rose – as I mentioned earlier, rose can be somewhat of a challenge for the Western perfumer, particularly if trying to use it as a main note. To overcome our prejudice of rose being feminine and soft, I learned how to mix roses with unusual bases and curious top notes to make it loosen up and reveal it's more aggressive side. For example: roses with cade and other leather notes will become a tough motorcyclist in leather jacket. Patchouli and Cocoa absolute darkens it as well... And than there is rose as a moderator of the composition - adding some sweetness and harmony to an otherwise unbalanced, harsh, sharp or overly spicy-medicinal presence.

Myth no. 3: “some notes are masculine, and some notes are feminine”.
Reality: As you’ve seen in the previous myth-crushing segment, context is everything. More than individual notes having specific gender, I would say the manner in which they interact with one another and the mood and personality they create is what truly matters. One thing that is true though, is that if thinking of the philosophical terms of what “masculine” and “feminine” mean, we could, perhaps, make the distYet, inction between notes that are “projective” as opposed to notes that are “receptive”. Notes that approach you as opposed to notes that draw you in. This might explain why notes such as citrus, herbs and spices are often considered more masculine and are used in abundance in masculine fragrances (they simply “come and get you”), while other notes – more round and “receptive” so to speak, such as the floral and ambery notes, can be more readily perceived as “feminine”. Still, don’t let yourself forget that what really matters is how all these notes interact with one another. The question you should ask yourself is if the perfume itself “projective” or “receptive”. If you are intrigued by this idea, I suggest you read the article by Octavian Sever Coifan: The "Amber" Concept vs. The "Musk" Concept.

When you add a base of amber or oakmoss to citrus notes, you will get an oriental or chypre accords which both strikes me as a very feminine scents, reminiscent of a woman's own skin.

When you add herbs and citrus to a musky base of sandalwood, hay and ambrette for example, you will get a masculine citrusy - fresh perfume.

The same with flowers - add jasmine to hay, sandalwood and lemongrass, the result will not be all that flowery and "feminine".
Add jasmine to vanilla, labdanum and sweet orange, this will be quite soft and what we may refer to as "feminine".

To close this discussion, I would like to end with a few examples of breaking out the traditions of what “masculine” or “feminine” scents are.

A few years ago, I made a bespoke perfume for my friend Yasmin. Her name means Jasmine, and her house was always surrounded by Jasmine Grandiflorum in full bloom. She loves jasmine, but I didn't want to make the perfume too literal for her. Also, she doesn't like sweets very much. She loves sour citrus fruit and would eat half-lemons with their peels if she could, covered with salt rather than sugar! So I created a perfume for her composed of Jasmine Grandiflorum concrete at the heart, a head note of lime and ginger, and a base that has some vanilla sweetness tempered by the powdery bitterness of tonka bean and the astringency of frankincense. The result was quite an unusual jasmine scent. One that I would think men will actually love to wear too! My friend wore it for her wedding, and had to order a large refill for her signature scent shortly after.

On another note, a perfume that was planned to be "masculine" but ended up soft, complex and suitable for both men and women is a perfume called Rebellius - a melange of xantoxylum, champaca, cumin, tobacco, vetiver, rhododendron and juniper. Surprisingly, there were more women than men who bought this fragrance, and I am not under the impression that their femininity is in the least compromoised by doing so.

There were three occasions when the intense nonsense of gendered perfume hit me the hardest. One was when my friend Justin pulled up a sample of one of my Christmas scents I made in 2002 and told me how much he enjoyed it. To my surprise, it wasn’t “Fete d’Hiver pour Homme” (now known as Bois d’Hiver) – but rather, the gardenia and rose laden Fete d’Hiver. I smelled it on his skin and was in awe as to how masculine it smelled on his wrists. On another occasion, I was at a party wearing my perfume Tamya, and a man has insisted I let him try some on. I was surprised at his daring approach to a scent made up mostly of white flowers – jasmine, ylang ylang and a gardenia accord again. It smelled utterly delicious on him but did not make him smell any less masculine than wearing a tie. Than there was my own partner seducing me with his stolen spritzes of “L” from my elaborate perfume collection… I haven’t looked back on the matter of perfume gender ever since.