I’ll start by saying that yes, Oudh Infini is one of the most realistic and natural smelling Oudh’s around. Blue cheese, goats, smoke; it’s all there as a natural facet of the oil, but done very finely. After the opening it doesn’t standout as Oudh, but rather like an animalic note. The smell of Oudh here reminds me slightly of Oud Palao, but apart from that it’s like comparing Mysore with synthetic sandalwood. The note shines on its own and really puts to shame many other Oudh’s with its authenticity. Just sprayed on skin, it opens with a stunning blood red rose, jammy and opulent just like it was in former Amouage creations; bold and bigger than life, incredibly beautiful and smelling as if a bouquet was under your nose. The Oudh shows right from the start all the facets that people either adore or loathe. I really enjoyed smelling the dirtiness and the side that is usually restrained in other Oudh centered creations but I know most people don’t really like the cheesy goaty smell. To me it’s an extension of animal notes and it was a real pleasure. Up until the mid notes it’s simply a rose/oud combo; well done but eventually something that’s been done before and I struggled to find a reason to justify the enormous price tag that accompanies the fragrance. But when the heart and base notes start to show, I feel like I’m not smelling an oud perfume anymore; the oud along the civet (poooooooootent!) act like a catalyst that transforms the fragrance into an animalic chypre oriental. It’s not about oud anymore, it’s rose and animalic notes and a stunning Mysore sandalwood that harkens to perfumes of yore. It’s ‘vintage’ done ‘modern’, it smells like a million bucks, and it strongly reminds me of the perfumes not longer being made. There’s this stage in the long long drydown that reminds me of the base notes of Salome; animalic, engulfing, like the smell of skank on a fur coat. And here, Pissara has used the oud and the civet to create a chypre sans oakmoss and patchouli and bergamot, but that somehow smells more chypre and balsy and elegant than most ‘chypres’ nowadays after reformulations. Smelling is believing. The quality is superb, strong and long lasting with just one spray. The development into something different than what first appears is worthy of praise, and the quality of the ingredients used is evident from the start. What convinced me is Pissara’s ability to use current notes and materials to create something else, and at the end of the day it’s an homage to past perfumes. But, having so many vintage chypres and orientals, choc full of the ingredients now banned or restricted, do I really need an updated version of those? Bogue did it with MAAI, Papillon does beautiful ‘vintage power’ inspired scents, and Vero Kern is simply my diva. All bring something different at affordable prices. At the end of the day, if I have to pay Roja Dove prices, I want and need something out of this world, and as much as I loved trying Oudh Infini, it’s not worthy of its price, to me. Beautifully well made but something I can live without. My travel spray will do, when I just want to luxuriate in its richness. Maybe some day, when I’m filthy rich!

The problem with Giorgio is that it suffers from what many older fragrances suffer; over application to excess, in a time when fragrances where not only applied heavily, but were equally potent as well. Everyone’s view varies, but I would have loved to live that era and live the glamorous life of Giorgio Beverly Hills. Fortunately I can live it today with my 1981 bottle of extraordinary spray cologne. Upon first spritz, what greets me is one of the most beautiful and honeyed orange blossoms I have smelt. It doesn’t smell dated, but incredibly lush and sunny. In a way, feelgood and happy. The orange blossom stays for the entire duration but the tuberose doesn’t take long to show up and steal the show. Along, you get the juiciness of peach, which in a way reminds me of the peach accord later on used in Tresor, but here it’s more neon and less formal. It all feels yellow like the stripes on the box. It’s a happy bombastic fragrance chock full of white flowers and a sunny disposition for the first couple of hours. But as the heart notes start to show up, it all gets a bit more serious, the make up packs on, and the tight fitting dress compliments the high hair. Giorgio starts to show a bit of oakmoss and suddenly it feels like a chypre. The ylang makes it smell more carnal and ‘oily’ and there’s a slight bitterness which adds to the chypre feel. A few more hours in and the drydown feels powdery as if there was Iris as well. And this is the thing that probably made Giorgio so popular. A powerful white floral that becomes more serious and perfume-y as it warms on skin. It’s loud at first, and loud afterwards, and what starts as an overwhelm of the senses develops to a beautiful floral chypre. It smells recognizable; if you smell it once you know it when you smell it, lasts from morning to next morning with incredible sillage for hours on end, but I don’t think it’s cheap. It might be in today’s formula, but the vintage smells expensive and would probably be more liked if it wasn’t used so heavily in the past. But hey, if people abused it’s because they probably loved it like I do. And back in the 80’s, I’d probably be banned from restaurants too. A nice discovery that I’m happy to have made, and in general a lovely, misunderstood fragrance. Rock it like it deserves; heavy handedly!

Quintessentially Poison! The richness, the darkness, the plummy liquor one finds in the vintage edt, here it is amplified by the animalic castoreum or civet, or both, to new heights. This is in perfume form (pardon my language) the best f**k you’ll get, leaving you wanting more and more. I always thought that the edt was enough, and god knows I have enough vintage bottles of it to last me until 2967, but an unexpected surprise came in the form of a cute little 15 ml Esprit and soon I was buying the only 50 ml Esprit that I could find on evilbay. Man this is a stunner. My only fear is running out, or worse, thinking the edt is not good enough. Dumb fears I know, but once you get the thick taste of it, everything else seems inferior. Luckily, the sillage is out of this world potent even when dabbed so I hope it will last long enough to probably outlive me. If the edt takes the plummiest and booziest tuberose to new heights, the Esprit introduces the heliotrope, which now sings clearly, the ambery resins that stick to skin like molasses, the fiery redhead bestie of Poison, miss carnation, and their pets, most likely a castor named Hulk and a civet named Priscila. If you thought the edt was suffocating enough, which I happen to love, the Esprit is the heavyweight champ. But the main difference is the 4K definition of notes. Every wearing is different but Poison takes its time to introduce every note to you, sometimes all at once and sometimes one by one. Here you can see the complexity and smell it, see how every note plays out to something greater that the sum, all the while with incredible finesse. Brutal strength, but elegance. I really feel the Esprit is the one every Poison worshipper should own, and at the same time the one that can really show what Poison is all about to anyone interested in this 1985 beauty. The spices never let the tuberose completely take over, while the honey and plums engulf it like the finest Bordeaux. For all it’s detractors, it’s overuse or abuse in the 80’s, there’s a person that adores her, and there’s no denying that there aren’t beauties like this made today. The quality is obvious in the fact that 30 years later, well cared bottles smell absolutely gorgeous, there are scents directly inspired by Poison (Loretta is one, Tubereuse Animale 3 is another) and even today it elicits strong feelings in people, even if said people are mostly perfumistas. Regular folks have left her behind, along the other beauties of the decade, closing the door to excess and welcoming minimalism. In this context, Poison wouldn’t make it, there’s too much in that deep purple-almost-black bottle that most would feel uncomfortable. I don’t believe in signature scents, but Poison Esprit is me. And if I’m ever remembered for my scent, I want to be the guy that reeked of Poison, and absolutely rocked it!

Boucheron comes from the school of rich florientals, with a chypre backbone, all laced with animalic notes. It somehow follows Ysatis, released 4 years earlier, and as if anticipating the end of the 80’s powerhouses it tries to cram everything in a bottle. But it succeeds at not making a caricature and instead it delivers a beautiful fragrance that somehow is also a swan song to shoulder pads, big hair and bright frosted pink lipstick. My 1988 edt starts with a big spicy orange blossom that also turns honeyed and marries perfectly with the tuberose and ylang ylang to make a white flower cornucopia. It does not shy and turns the volume all the way up to let the flowers sing. A little carnation to spice up, some narcissus to prepare for the animalics ahead, resinous amber to sweeten everything; this is a sweet nectar through and through. But as the fragrance unfolds, the sweetness subsides to let the oriental notes show. There’s a nice hint of dark vanilla, sandalwood and resinous benzoin, and suddenly it feels more oriental than floral. But, the oakmoss backbone keeps everything ‘dry’ and more sophisticated. The civet shines in the vintage edt and adds dimension and sensuality to what otherwise could be a screechy floral. Sometimes Boucheron is too much, you can’t just put it on and go. It demands a certain attitude, a certain glamour. It feels too sophisticated to be casual. But it can also glamorize a simpler outfit, as long as the wearer has the personality to pull it off. I recently tested the version out there today, and my surprise was that it hasn’t been destroyed. Yes, the base, or better, lack of, is simple and turns to plain ambery musk without any of the interesting parts, but the fragrance remains bold and beautiful. Along the years it has had retouches but it somehow retains a big part of its character. Nowadays the edp is far more interesting, but if you happen upon a vintage edt, grab it; it puts many others to shame. And if you miss the old Ysatis, give Boucheron a try. Age has been kinder with it.

Le Diable Rouge is one of the most beautiful and intense versions ever made of Hypnotic Poison; having the same strength as Poison esprit de parfum (Dior’s way of saying edp up until the release of this gem, when it became edp) here you can actually see the continuation of the original from 1985 into late 90’s territory. The original edt was a beauty on its own; deadly almond over a bed of sensual vanilla and an eye wink in the form of root beer. In the edp, Menardo ups the stakes by making an elixir of huge proportions. The bitter almond glows in full intensity, the vanilla is made ever more carnal with its animalic side heightened. The fruits, plum and apricot, have been stewed just a tad longer and provide the link with Poison, showcasing their perverse/preserve compote qualities. Tuberose, but mostly Jasmine, are very much present and far more noticeable than the edt, and there’s a silver metallic ray that cuts and runs through the fragrance. Lilly of The Valley? It has poisonous roots as well, so it fits perfectly. But the bitter almond is the star; it feels somehow 3D, in the same way the original commercial in a futuristic Ridley Scott city feels 3D. Black and red, sticky and oily, with musk and heliotrope galore to further enhance the almond, with vanilla that smells like the real thing and not some cheap ethylvanillin. This is as carnal and sexy as a quasi gourmand can get. Quasi because Hypnotic isn’t a gourmand, although it walks a fine line. It’s sweet without being sugary. It’s an oriental floral with more sweetness. And just when you think it might be too much, because it is, it shows you it’s an adult perfume. Mysterious, seductive, mesmerizing. This is the essence of the late 90’s! The current one doesn’t really compare. Yes, it maintains some of the beauty, but like most reformulations, where cost cutting is a key factor, and IFRA a second, the changes are most evident in the basenotes, or better yet lack of. The scent doesn’t hold up, it falls flat without a strong backbone to hold it. The top and middle feels fleeting and the white musk/vanilla washed ending doesn’t take long to arrive. Get vintage if possible to experience what Hypnotic really was(is). It doesn’t get better than this, and the tiny amount one needs will make it last for ages, whether edt or edp. Fun fact: it’s said that one of the rubies adorning the neck of the bottle is real, but only one bottle has it. Mine don’t look real but what do I know? The real gem is the liquid inside so consider me a very happy camper!

"And it is exactly how you don't expect it to be" That's the quote on Luckyscent and the leaflet that accompanies Naja; in a phrase it sums up the culmination of Vero's work and the spirit of Naja that hovers above skin. Forget about her previous releases, as beautiful as they are, forget about Habanita or Tabac Blond that are said to be the inspiration; here, Vero shows us her signature, the perfection of her skills, a gift to her customers and friends that feels like poison and it's cure, like a shaman performing a spell, like being in a trance and completely awake. In olfactory terms, Naja shares a slight resemblance to Rozy, but only slightly, and while completely different from her previous work, Naja has Vero Kern stamped all over. The opening is the most beautiful melon note in perfume history, with maybe Le Parfum de Therese a close second. In Naja, the melon acts like the breath of air that runs through the honeyed linden and tobacco. It is juicy in the most adult way, quenching and appetizing in the same way a slice of the fruit quenches a heated summer body. The osmanthous and linden interplay showing their honeyed/apricot side, and the tobacco adds a much needed dryness, surrounded by a glorious powdery musk. The musk isn’t dirty like Vero has given us before. Here it becomes skin like, with a certain violet/lilac tinge similar in a way to Mona’s Musc. I was hoping for some more leather but unfortunately there isn’t any, at least on my skin. In a way, Naja feels like a cold scent. Imagine sitting around a campfire, there is fresh tobacco everywhere and the leaves are being cured and dried so as to be rolled. A gentle breeze is carrying the heady sweetness of a nearby linden tree, while eating a slice of juicy melon and smelling the violet powder you applied earlier. Naja in a nutshell. I was expecting something different, darker and Naja came as a major surprise. It took me a while to get used to it, but just like the light after the dark and the sun after the night, Naja is a beauty that stands on its own and shows the immense talent Vero has! I couldn’t be more excited on what is to come. Excellent longevity with average sillage, hovering above skin for hours! My winner from what 2017 has brought us this far!

Just like I said Scherrer 2 has survived in excellent form, I have to say Scherrer also has, just not that good. Credit is due where credit is due, but simply the color of a 1981 bottle, golden honey compared to emerald green today, tells something. And the nose test is the ultimate one. Whereas Scherrer today is a beautiful green 'chypre' (I say 'chypre' because what can be called a true chypre today? With all the limitations and although some brands try to do their best with what's available and permitted, a true chypre can't be made today like it used to 2 decades ago) the vintage one is a gorgeous leather chypre, in the vein of Bandit and Futur, and to some extent Cabochard/Azuree/Aramis. The above three are decidedly more butch, rougher, but Bandit in its vintage form had some glorious florals hidden beneath the surface; way way hidden, and Scherrer vintage boasts a huge galbanum, leather and civet note, with hidden florals just like Bandit. And that is what I mostly get; galbanum all the way in it's beautiful green bitterness, worn leather of a well made bag, an ambiguous floral heart to soften the edges, and a wallop of civet in the base that runs from the beginning to make Scherrer, ultimately, the Bandit of the 80's; powerful, a slap in the face big personality that feels so different from the orientals and florals of the day but so refreshing and revitalizing for the woman or man that wanted to take the big city by the balls. Always walking the line of ambiguity, it is masculine and feminine and everything in between. Perfect for anyone that loves a tough leather chypre with no sweetness at all and no excess frills, just good ol' oakmoss, galbanum, animalic leather and some flowers in the heart. Today, Scherrer is more of a green floral, that still feels dry, sparkling, but the galbanum feels absent, as well as the leather, and the animalic notes feel sharper. Huge sillage and longevity on both versions, with the original one feeling just a tad 'bigger' and warmer. Definitely give it a try, because Designer Parfums are really working magic with the brands they own, Patou included. If you love Futur especially, with the galbanum/oakmoss duo singing together, Scherrer is a sure bet!

Portuguese mandarin, Rose, Jasmine, Angelica, Tuberose, Violet leaf, Cinnamon, Bourbon vetiver, Mysore sandalwood, Myrrh, Cedar, Civet, Castoreum, Benzoin, Patchouli, Opoponax, Musk, Oakmoss. These are the notes that are listed on the carded sample I received along with my 1987 bottle. And it makes sense; I for one can't sense any pineapple and there's a distinct animalic feel that runs through the whole fragrance. There's an aldehyde feel in the opening, kind of like layering Coco and N° 5, but more oomph-y, more extravagant. Scherrer 2, for all its comparisons feels like a less strong Teatro Alla Scala, and like Coco edt. Sparkling, like a glass of bubbly, floral, but the deep kind of floral that feels demure, all in a gilded living room with wild animals running free. There's a deep boozy sensation just like in Fendi original, Teatro, that makes you feel numbed, a bit dizzy. They sure knew how to put you under their spell these bad babies. Opulent, glamorous, heavy florals, woody basenotes, heavy on musk that feels feral, with a nice fruity opening that is more preserve jam rather than lollipop. If you enjoy any of the above, Scherrer 2 is a hidden treasure that surprisingly has fared extremely well. My first bottle was a current Designer Parfums formula and now that I have one from the first years of release, I can honestly say it's almost the same. Save from some minor sharpness in the animalic notes of the current one, and a bit lighter sillage/longevity, I can't imagine how they managed to keep it smelling so true and 'vintage' in 2017. By far the best reformulation I have encountered, actually the only one. Get vintage if it's reasonably priced or you have a deep deep love of dirty musks, otherwise the current one is still great if you don't mind a sharper synthetic civet and castoreum.

Opening on skin, Él is a throwback to vintage fougères. Upon first spritz, there's a hologram of vintage Kouros, far more realistic than current version. Honestly, closing my eyes I'm smelling Kouros in all its glory minus the bracing aldehydes and bergamot. As soon as it starts to dry down, the spicy core of geranium and bay leaves comes to the front accompanied by what seems like a very healthy dose of castoreum. I can't really smell the slightly pissy and powdery civet, but I get a leathery castoreum in spades with honey sweetening the animal behind. Smelling the flowers showing their spicy side recalls the likes of Paco Rabanne pour Homme, even Van Cleef & Arpels pour Homme in all its glory. At this point, Él is more like a barbershop fougere, a bit calmer and less in your face, showing its woody and earthy facets; vetiver predominantly with a slight talcum vibe. The hidden civet appears during the drydown to remind us that the game isn't over. Sillage is quite big, longevity very good. It's strange to find a modern release that has various stages, isn't linear and pays homage to the best of a genre; animalic in a warm way, blending the synthetic civet and castoreum to make it fuse with the skin, modern but decidedly vintage. This tanned hunk starts with a naughty blink in his eye, shows his various facets during development, but at the end of the night when sweaty bodies ask for more action he reminds us that the animal inside is ready to go prowling. It's only just the beginning!

Blonde is (was) a knockout tuberose. As if Donatella took Fracas and glamorized it; a bit of blush here, a bit of shadow there...Fracas dressed for a party, 50 years later. So where do you go when you come from the 40's and you suddenly time travel to the 90's? My bet? A private party. Leaving aside the obvious, Blonde is a massive buttery tuberose, far more buttery than any other, to the point of turning nutty. Rich, full on cream with a side of gardenia, ylang ylang and pitosporum, a tiny white flower with huge scent. But how do you balance such headyness? Throw in some spicy carnation, a dollop of civet, a hint of narcissus and you have Versace Blonde; better than what Fracas was in the late 80's/early 90's. Massive sillage, day long longevity and a joyous laugh; after all you were modeled after the Queen but just in a different era. Younger, naughtier, sexier, Blonde throws its narcotic spell without a worry in the world. Sensual, decadent, narcotic, this tuberose is not for the faint of heart. It takes some appreciation to enjoy and discover the glamour behind. But like most good things, Fracas was suddenly resurrected and brought back in a good as ever shape. And Blonde had to leave. I guess there wasn't room enough for two. Highly sought and still around if you search hard enough, Blonde is one of the better Versace's, and the one I enjoy the most. If you love tuberose and white florals try and give Blonde a try; decadent and glamorous, narcotic and sexy, it wouldn't disappoint Germaine Cellier had she been alive.