Mousse de fougère! This is what I call Paloma Picasso in its edt concentration. I have an edp from the mid 80’s which goes into Knowing territory. I also have a 1995 Cosmair edt for more frequent use that feels somehow drier, fougèrier, but not at all lighter. Review of this particular edt (UP271, Cosmair/Paloma Picasso Parfums). Paloma in general has always been for me a very floral chypre. Green as hell, but floral; rich dark roses, jasmine, spicy carnation/geranium accents, with very slight mimosa powder. Animalics that instead of going feral, enhance the other notes. The edp goes all the way into that territory, deepens with wear, and at the end the civet and castoreum make a curtain call to assert their presence. The edt however behaves differently. The floral notes, with more emphasis on carnation, become more dandy, more obscure, like taking cue from something like Narcisse Noir. Even Eau du Soir, which really shows here its kindred relationship. But what predominates is the woody vetiver/oakmoss base. It’s as if a shaving foam was whipped to a featherlight mousse, sprinkled with shavings of soap, a green colored one, and adorned with geranium, carnation, a touch of rose and a drizzle of honey. It smells like those 70’s ads of Badedas or Fa, famous European shower products that back in the day rivaled expensive brands. Clean, bright, soapy, groomed. Not very feral, but the animal inside gives a certain warmth to the entire fragrance. Civet and castoreum can be clean and dirty, if you know how to dose them. Sillage and longevity don’t deviate from the edp; couple of sprays on the neck, couple on the chest and wrists, project for hours and last to the end of the day. Hours in, it becomes more rose/patchouli without the chemical woods that are used today to recreate and give depth to such accords. So you get the nice stuff without the crappy Ambro whatever. If you like one, you’ll like the other. If you gravitate towards Knowing, EdS, Scherrer, you’ll love it. If you find the edp challenging, you might enjoy the edt. But it’s recognizably Paloma Picasso in all its beauty so if you don’t like old school proper chypres, chances are you probably won’t enjoy it. Fougère and barbershop scent fans are likely to love it!

An updated version of the original Black Perfecto. Very nice as well, with slight differences, but if you own one you don’t need the other. If you miss Black Perfecto however, this is the nicest in the line and the one I would get if I didn’t have and really enjoy the black gorgeous bottle of Perfecto.

Mila Schön, the first fragrance launched by the Italian brand in 1981 has nothing to do with the pyramid listed here. The leaflet that came with the perfume and ancillary body products describes it as ‘a chypre fragrance, with notes of bergamot, mimosa, carnation, cloves, rose, jasmine…resting on a base of oakmoss, civet, castoreum, ambergris and vetiver’. The notes listed in Fragrantica are about subsequent reformulations that have nothing to do with the original beauty. 240ml Eau de Parfum reviewed, from the early 80’s. Mila opens like many late 70’s to early 80’s chypres, but mostly like the forgotten ones; Missoni, Vu, J’ai Osé…herbal and bitter, fruity but sparkling, elegant! The intelectual ones like I call them. The ones that time (injustily) forgot, became too scarce or too expensive to pursue and eventually became a memory. There’s a wonderful bitter quality that marries with a honeyed note and immediately brings to mind Ted Lapidu’s Vu. The fruity bergamot is more astringent here and embraces a revitalizing effect. Uplifting. Galbanum, which I’m sure is here as well, brings it closer to a green fragrance at first, but as soon as the flowers begin to appear things change over. A muted rose, a soft jasmine and a more prominent carnation and pollen rich cassis or mimosa. The honeyed feel of the mimosa becomes more prominent now, and it reminds me slightly of Vu’s intensely urinous honey note, although here is far more subdued and smooth. Mila is one of the fragrances that becomes stronger as it dries down. The oakmoss and vetiver enter the scene, alongside the patchouli, and the scent becomes more woody than chypre; the earthy notes are strong but the oakmoss feels like a recurring player rather than the star. The animalic trifecta of civet-castoreum-ambergris radiates heavily if I smell my skin, but lingers lightly in the air around me if I smell the sillage. It varies from heavily dirty to heavily musky, depending on the temperature and the way I smell my skin. But it never leaves, and while never entering dangerous territory like Furyo, Magie Noire or La Nuit for example, it is never unnoticeable. The general feel is of a slightly melancholic scent. It inevitably feels 70’s, which for me is a plus and it has all the elements I enjoy in perfume. Add to that a green/chypre character with intense animal notes and I’m in heaven! I can’t help but feel it branches from the Aromatics Elixir family and just like the fragrances mentioned above it has a sophisticated feel, intelectual capacity and gorgeous glimpses to bygone eras that once upon a time were the IT moment. It’s a perfume for a few, who can appreciate it just like it takes a developed palate to devour all the nuances of a fine wine. Easily found, not terribly expensive and very much worth the time and effort! Moderate to heavy sillage with outstanding longevity. Edit to add; a year and a half of use and I’m amazed at how it blooms on skin. No matter if it’s hot or cold, Mila shines. Winter, summer…the deep deep drydown shows an animalic warmth that just pulsates and vibrates for hours on end. I love and sense it all day long, but come the end of the day, I catch whiffs of something gorgeous, erotic, sensual…a beast gleaming from my pores. Very few perfumes do this and Mila is one of them. Couldn’t be happier to have more than 300ml in total, I didn’t expect this outcome and I’m more than surprised. What a shame this gem doesn’t get the praise it deserves, it’s undoubtedly a classic! Side note: if Kouros ever had a version ‘pour femme’, this is it! Original official notes: Bergamot-Mandarin-Peach-Plum-Strawberry-Neroli-Coriander-Carnation-Aniseed-Galbanum-Spices-Nutmeg Rosewood-Jasmine-Rose-Cloves-Ylang Ylang-Iris-Lilly of the Valley-Blackcurrant-Clary Sage-Violet-Acacia or Mimosa Oakmoss-Vetiver-Patchouli-Musk-Vanilla-Sandalwood-Castoreum-Frankincense-Civet-Benzoin-Opoponax-Ambergris

What a nice surprise! I had a hunch I’d like this, blind bought a 100ml bottle and I’m really happy I did. Firstly, I do own and enjoy from time to time the original. I’ve also had the Intense, which was my favorite flanker, but never cared for anything else from this line. And now Iris Absolu is coming close to a love. This one is far less sweet, which is a bonus point. It smells less childish than the original, and the Iris really makes its presence known. I find that the Iris in the first bottles of the original is yeasty, earthy…it cuts the sweetness beautifully but it doesn’t prevail; it’s mostly orange blossom and praline. I get the hit from the start but the floral sweetness mixed with the gourmand accord of the line prevails and that’s why I can’t wear it often. I haven’t tried the ‘it reminds me’ flankers, but, I do own a perfume which shares the same lipsticky Iris intertwined with a gentle and buttery gourmandise; Shalimar Parfum Initial. Yes, it does come really close to that one. Iris Absolu starts with lipstick Iris; powdery, cosmetic, sweeter than the dry and yeasty facet of the original. It’s more potent as well and the first half hour doesn’t bring La vie est Belle to mind. It’s different. I get the Iris all through the drydown. But even though it smells grownup and classier than the original, Lancôme plays it safe as not to scare people. So sweetness and similarities to the original start showing up fast. There’s jasmine, stronger than orange blossom here, and the recognizable praline starts creeping up slowly. It’s not extremely sweet but it does let people know ‘don’t worry, I’m sweet and won’t smell like an old perfume’ (as if old and vintage perfume was a crime; I’d be in jail for 100 lifetimes!). Somewhere in the middle, I get a nondescript herbal-ness; the fig and black currant? Have no idea, it’s like a counterbalance for the chocolate rush. As it reaches the drydown, the Shalimaresque Iris remains, the sweetness intensifies, some patchouli makes its presence known, and the floral and herbal facets subdue. It keeps smelling more like the Guerlain than the original to me and that’s what makes me enjoy it. I find it less cloying than the rest of the line and with a gentle application (it’s a powerhouse), can work anytime. It’s also more unisex if that matters to you, and more interesting than others from the line. While I don’t buy the 10x more Iris concentration (what is this anw, a dish soap commercial?) the Iris is there, it’s more lipstick than breadstick, and it’s less sweet and cloying. Interesting opening and far more common mid/drydown. I think it’s time they really think out of the box for the next one, or when this one flops and they decide to discontinue it. Maybe that’s what people really want. All in all, a solid flanker. For now, a big like. Adding; mid drydown reminds me of Poison Girl as well, a slight bitterness there. With every wear it smells less and less like a LVEB flanker, which honestly I don’t mind at all. It’s a love! Honestly, this is the most beautiful LVEB version yet, on par with the discontinued original Intense. Gorgeous!

Like countless times before, I don’t really notice a perfume when it’s new, sometimes because I don’t really ‘feel’ it and sometimes because it just feels pointless. Case in point, J’adore. Never really noticed it, never a fan, and yet curiosity spiked my interest a few months ago. Found a couple 1999 and 2000 bottles for sale, got one to try and then went back for a couple of backups. So, review based on one 2000 bottle and two 1999 ones. J’adore, created by Calice Becker, was a radiant floral that turned out to be the blockbuster Dior needed after Poison. Dune and Dolce Vita came with little fanfare, never really taking off and replacing Poison as the next Dior hit. J’adore wasn’t conceived that way but surprise surprise, it went on to become an overnight success! Milky, smooth, golden, scintillating, embracing…a smell that has been copiously introduced into almost every single scented household item, it went on to become known as a shampoo/clean smell that permeates dryer sheets, cleaning products and air fresheners. That’s where my lack of interest for it started; it became a functional smell rather that a pleasurable one. But take the original J’adore and smell it; it all changes. Fruity nuances in the opening, dominated by pear and melon. A cool floral heart with a light white floral creaminess ending on a woody and vanillic base. Simple. Uncomplicated. But the genius of Calice was making this simple formula smell expensive, elegant and golden. The complexity of the ingredients, the artistry of their combination. It smells high end. And that’s why it became such a hit. Everyone needed a slice of the J’adore pie. And just like every hit before it, J’adore became a victim of its own success spanning clones, cheap imitations, and eventually even cheaper reformulations that have only made it a bad caricature of itself smelling cheap, trashy, plastic. Now there’s no complexity, no seamless transitions from the ivy green notes, to the juicy melon, to the cool lilly of the valley and the creamy vanilla/sandalwood/cedar base. J’adore became disfunctional when it started smelling functional. J’adore started, for me, smelling like luxury body products. It went on to intrigue me, and I discovered its beauty in the original formula, fronted by an amazing Carmen Kaas in a pool filled with liquid gold. That was the essence of J’adore. When I smelt the current iteration, it simply felt off, like a room freshener that tries too hard. The new Millenium brought us many things, some better than others, but those last years when Dior was still rocking it, we had Hypnotic Poison, J’adore, Addict and ending with Dior Homme, we got the best of the Galliano era. While a victim of its own success, eventually feeling burned out, now, more than 20 years later, it begs to be rediscovered in its original beauty and formula. It can now be appreciated for what it was all along, a golden touch of genius!

Boudoir is wild sex. It's the smell of wild sex. Sweat, heat, excitement. In that small time slot that ended up being the Memento Mori of perfumery (1998/2005) McQueen and Vivienne Westwood gave us two masterpieces, they travelled to the past and brought back the scent of a turn-of-the-century french brothel. They said to hell with what's in style now (those were the days of Cool Water, Eternity, cK One and many more), gave the world the middle finger and said “let’s teach them what it is to be a trendsetter”. And they really were. Good old Kingdom I haven't smelled in ages; very out of reach now, but Boudoir still stands out today like a fly in a glass of milk. And it continues to be groundbreaking, it goes against trends and it doesn’t give a fuck. And some of that sexy sweaty smell stays on skin for hours and hours after applying it. Boudoir is spicy and powdery carnations at the start; the good Madame from the brothel mentioned above bathed with Maja soap. After an application of body powder, some cheap perfume full of daffodils, roses, jasmine, civet, orange blossom... underwear is redundant. After a joint to get in the mood, lying on the bed, naked with her exuberant curves visible, her lover arrives. A muscular, little rough stud. He wears an oil with the essence of herbs; lavender, rosemary, thyme, lemon and some animal notes. Their sex session will last as long as their bodies can handle. The sweat of both is mixed with their perfume and the smoke from the joint that they share at the end. The Kama sutra has just inaugurated a new chapter. I love it, in case there is any doubt. It makes you blush if you start to think and fantasize while wearing it. But if you know how to tame it, then there’s no need to fantasize; you are going to live your wildest dreams. Like very few recent perfumes, Boudoir fits like a glove with who Vivienne is as a person, as a designer, and as a personality. While the rest of her perfumes, almost all of them actually, are now forgotten, her firstborn Boudoir is her manifesto and she could shout it louder (difficult; it lasts forever with tremendous sillage) but not clearer. I just need to meet again with my long gone Kingdom. The two are twins with the same overwhelming personality. (And then they sell us today's releases as groundbreaking, transgressive...Boudoir eats them up while painting her nails) Review based on an edp from 1999.

I’ve never really been a fan of Coco Mademoiselle. I got to know it by means of one of my best friends; it was the very early 00’s and I remember smelling on her CM, Narciso for Her, Addict, D&G and later on Pure and Midnight Poison. She had the skin chemistry to pull them all off and make them smell gorgeous. But while I really enjoyed the rest, CM never really clicked. Fast forward to 2020 and I smell CMI, which I find has the same annoying ‘modern Chanel’ lab made synthetic prettiness of purity that is the undercurrent of every Chanel release from 2000 onwards. But I find bits and pieces I enjoy. 2 years later and I have a 100ml edp of Coco Mademoiselle manufactured in 2006, with the now banned Lilial and Lyral. And I enjoy it quite a bit. But maybe it’s just nostalgia, as it inevitably transports me to my teenage self, late nights, parties, first crushes, my best friend of the time and carefree freedom. Coco Mademoiselle opens with the above mentioned modern Chanel smell; a synthetic feel of lab purity and whiteness with a peculiar starchy smell that inevitably recalls ‘new’ products, the smell of packaging, of industrial perfection and the scent of fragranced paper. It’s a smell I can’t stand, but, underneath it all the fragrance appears as a beam of light. The citruses are crossed with orange colored fruits, and there I can sense a minuscule bit of the original and glorious vintage Coco with its stew of peaches and prunes. The heart notes make justice to Polge’s (senior) dexterity with rose and jasmine; the man can make thousands of combinations with those two notes and all smell different and fantastic. There’s mimosa which provides a dry and powdery starchy (again) feel, some resins and some moss and quite a bit of patchouli that anchor the scent on skin and show, once again, minuscule shades of Coco. They are nothing alike, but, in the tiniest of details, Polge has hidden references to his 1984 powerhouse. In fact, the common thread and what they really share is potency; my vintage bottle has the same astounding sillage and longevity as my vintage 1984 bottle of Coco. Wearing it today, guarantees that I’ll still smell it potently 24 hours later. I’m not in love, but I like it when the crave sets in. It hits the right spot. Jacques Polge created the prototype of what we know as a modern fruitchouli, but as the original, it has quality and class. It boasts a very moderate sweetness, a lingering floralcy that smells quite authentic, and a dry woody and ambery drydown that shines with vetiver and moss and amber and soft woody notes. The vanilla and musks simply round up the scent and make it comfortable and creamy. In fact, worn today, CM feels decidedly more strong than dainty, more dry than sweet, more masculine than feminine than most (if not all) modern male fragrances. Created for women with character, it generated the same smell you find in all male oriented fragrances produced after it. The drydown of CM immediately recalls the thousand of ‘manly’ post 2000 perfumes that copied its vetiver infused woody character. And with gender aside, as always with perfume, any guy could pull it off, just like any woman can. It’s simply the idea of luxury made in a well crafted way. And that’s what sells it. Reformulations aside, which have really made it a cologne version of the original. But on some days, it’s just the right thing!

Trussardi was launched in 1982, not 1983 or 84 if I recall correctly. But either way, it doesn’t change the fact that the first duo from the house, black and white, were impecable in many ways and absolute beauties that perfectly defined the Italian glamour of the times. Theater, movies, music, fashion…Italy was booming, and the perfumes had to reflect that! And boy did they!! I have 2 Trussardi Donna, or white, from 1985 and 1986 respectively, but I first encountered them many years back, around 1992/1993 when I was about 8 years old. And they stuck with me since then! Around that time my aunt had a second hand shop that looked more like a junk shop; old pans, shoes, Burda magazines, clothes, accessories.. stuff she somehow pretended to sell in a shop that was cluttered with dust and junk all around. There, she had samples of Anaïs Anaïs (I first smelt it there) and Trussardi sample cards that were packaged in plastic sleeves to scent drawers and closets. Up until a few years back, they still had scent! Faded echoes of leather, galbanum and powder that always stayed with me until I got hold of actual bottles. The magic for me is the opening! Bitter green herbal notes of artemisia and galbanum that recall slightly the opening of Kouros, but with an added iris softness. This robust beauty, that in its vintage formula makes todays mens scents seem like kids cologne, soon shows its fangs. Worn leather that smells of bitter isobutyl quinolene just like Bandit or Aramis, with hints of geranium and carnation. The flowers don’t lend a sweet or innocent aura, instead they add more greenness and dimension only softened by a powdery veil of iris or heliotrope. But never becoming a soft or gentle scent. This is leather and galbanum with oakmoss and resins in the base that define the general feel, with touches of everything else. Some opening aldehydes to add sparkle, while the heart simply softens the herbaceous character with undefined and perfectly blended florals. Trussardi is leather of the highest quality, carnation soap and herbs, a primal sexual tension that was perfectly captured in the original advertisement. Musky notes of the dirty variety to anchor it on skin, which gives it an amazing longevity but with a moderate sillage. The white version, marketed to women smells today infinitely more masculine than what you find on counters. The black male version, which I have yet to find, was the yin to the yang with a more butch character and a sweetness in the middle that felt so sensual! How times have changed! And yet the original vintage Trussardi still lives on! And still smells like a million bucks!

My review pertains to the 1979 release, the re-orchestration by Max Gavarry, and not the original 1969 formula by Guy Robert, which is said to be far more animalic. Either way, my 1979 bottle of Dioressence is, to me, one of the very best Dior creations and one of the most beautiful fragrances in general! Dioressence is an intensely animalic green oriental. It seems weird but if you take the spices of Youth Dew, add a lick of animal notes and envelop everything in aromatic green herbal notes, this is what you get. It smells so perfect that I’ve never had the urge to pursue the harder to find and far more expensive first version; there’s simply no need for me. The opening is powdered geraniums and carnations, laced with bright and sparkling bergamot. The richness of the citrus is unparalleled and together with the aromatic notes of geranium, it smells like the most sensual powder; it’s bright, soothing, floral and dry, giving the feel of moist greenness. There’s a touch of cinnamon and orange but instead of going all ‘pomander territory’ it manages to convey the same hot spiciness of Youth Dew or Opium. The mid floral heart, which is so expertly blended that no flower stands out takes it more to chypre territory, leaving some of the spices behind. I can still sense the cinnamon and the geranium, the two notes that stand out more on my skin, but now I smell the connection to Miss Dior; the same elegance, the same class, but somehow wilder. Hair down, a print kaftan and a chaise longue. Le Parfum Barbare comes alive! All through the lifespan of Dioressence (hours on end on skin, with more than big sillage) there’s a briny and salty feel, which I’m sensing as ambergris. It doesn’t make it dirty per se, but adds the barbaric element of naughtiness. The drydown brings forth the heavier musks and animalic notes, adds a final spin of the spice rack and envelops everything in dark patchouli, powdered herbal notes and the floral facet of geranium. Rose becomes more apparent but other than that, the rest of the flowers are invisibly blended to provide the overall smoothness. Oakmoss, spices, some resins…this is everything without trying, without falling apart. It’s hard to decipher it and I won’t, because it smells so fu*king good that I just want to savor it. It feels so 70’s, yet so 80’s Studio54, that I wonder if my version is still the Guy Robert formula or the Gavarry vision, because it’s a masterpiece. I’ve no idea, I’m guessing that each perfumer emphasized a different side of the same coin and Dioressence feels at home in any version, be it a 1969 chateau or a 1979 disco. Transcending like no other and never feeling or smelling dated. 10/10 from me!

Darling Diorling! What a gorgeous leather you are! And I’m reviewing an early 60’s Eau de Cologne so I’m not getting the full strength! Diorling opens in husky shades of lilac clouds. There’s freshness from bergamot but what stands out immediately on my skin is violet, though not listed in this minuscule note list, but it’s there. I sometimes wonder if it’s just a side effect of the leather, kinda like a precursor to Fahrenheit. There’s ozonic freshness and green buds bursting, with their slight cucumber dew. I’m not a fan of violet or violet leaf, but the contrast here is gorgeous. Lilacs as well I can sense. The leather doesn’t take long to come front and center. This is old school isobutyl quinoline just like in Jolie Madame, but it’s rawer here. Wilder. So much for its British associations! The heart unfolds slowly and tenderly a white flower blanket. Soft flowers as if seen through a hazy mist, tender jasmine, soft roses, a canvas of blue and purple blossoms hindered even smoother by the patina of leather. Leather that keeps turning darker and more animalic, reaching a point where it smells just like Mona di Orio Cuir; Edmond’s disciple, Mona did get influenced by the master, and her wonderful Cuir pays a wonderful homage to her teacher/mentor/friend, whose influence by Paul Vacher can be smelled in his later creations. From Paul to Edmond to Mona! Slowly but steadily, a blanket of oakmoss and musk, castoreum certainly there, starts to engulf the leather, taming it. And underneath, a soft floral powderiness softens all remaining edges. Skin that smells of floral talcum, leather and moss, pierced by the hushed breath of animalic notes. As an Eau de Cologne, Diorling opens loud but starts getting quieter as the hours go by. There’s not massive sillage but with a generous application Diorling shines brightly for at least 2/3 hours before becoming gradually a skin scent that lasts for the entire day. Longevity is amazing but it of course lacks the volume of an extrait. A pristine bottle like the one I own feels and behaves almost better than modern edt’s. Better actually, not almost. As the scent starts disappearing from skin, what’s left are the last remnants of leather caressing my senses. A gentle powdery feel makes it smell elegant to its final breath, just like a made to measure Christian Dior outfit. Stunning! I’d love to get my hands on a vintage extrait, but even in EdC I’m amazed by this beauty and its stunning glow!