Blonde Amber has always been one of the most popular releases from Clive Christian, but in the past year especially it has exploded into popularity - I blame TikTok. A lot of people have said this is the best cold weather fragrance on the market; it’s not, not by a long shot. It’s still enjoyable though; the overbearing sweetness of dried fruits and smooth tonka compliment the dry tobacco and smoky resins very well, with just a touch of booziness to keep it interesting. However, as is often the case with Clive Christian, it doesn’t smell nearly as expensive as it actually is. £500 for this is obscene, I wouldn’t pay over £150 for it and good luck finding it at that price. I enjoy this scent but there’s just a lingering smell of cheapness underneath everything that I like about it, once again I really don’t know why this has been hyped so much.

Amberwood is interesting, I’m having trouble deciding whether I like it or not. One things for sure though, Clive Christian are taking the piss with the price for a scent like this. It’s almost painfully boring, annoyingly simple and a little scratchy at that too. With a name like Amberwood, you’d be just as surprised as I was to smell no relevance to Amber whatsoever. It’s a sort of aromatic woody scent, with an overwhelming synthetic muskiness blanketing over everything. Sage sticks out to me, with its dry, slightly green qualities complimenting the array of synthetic musks and woods fairly well. To be honest it does smell pleasant, but it also smells cheap. I had a similar issue with Rock Rose, for a £500 fragrance you want to smell like royalty, where as this will have you smelling like Superdrug instead. Why would they market such a cheap and basic smelling scent as luxury? We may never know.

X Masculine is an iconic and undeniably fantastic scent profile in the world of niche men’s perfumery. There’s nothing else that smells quite like it, aside from the ones that have copied it. It sort of smells like fougere meets oriental, but mainly comes through as a warm spicy oriental scent. An enveloping warmth of smooth cardamom and spicy cinnamon takes centre stage, given a sort of fresh spiciness by ginger and bergamot. All of this rests on a rich, woody base of woods, florals and Vetiver. The journey of this scent is a battling dichotomy of zingy freshness, against warming spices - and it’s phenomenal. It’s very much in the same vein as Roja’s Reckless Pour Homme, or perhaps that should be vice versa, considering this came first. However, as Roja usually manages to do so, I find his iteration of this scent profile far superior as it feels smoother and more refined. However the Clive Christian has to be respected for the ingenuity of such a scent profile.

After reviewing Bergamask, my expectations were set very low when it came to Megamare - it’s safe to say they were met. Gaultieri has presented yet another molestation of the senses, in the form of a cheap smelling aquatic accord. I can love intensely aquatic fragrances with that powerful seaweed accord, Acqua di Sale by Profumum Roma is a perfect example of this. However with Megamare, it just smells cheap and lazy - it’s overwhelmingly strong, to the point it’s unenjoyable. It’s not unwearable, but there are a number of fragrances in this style which actually smell nice. Again, Gaultieri proves himself as the master of making things smell cheap and messy. I really don’t get along with his work, these are not pieces of art or ingenuity, they are messy backhanded insults to perfumery.

Bergamask is borderline nasal assault, an unapologetic barrage on the senses and one that I’m not necessarily sure I enjoy. Why does this get so much hype? I fail to see what the appeal here is, aside from the brutally strong performance which people seem to cherish above all else. It’s just an overdose of bergamot and lemon, and not in a good way. It’s rough, screechy and quite frankly, disastrous. It comes off like you’ve spilled lemon-scented surface cleaner on yourself. I read that the culprit for its monstrous longevity and projection is javanol, a synthetic sandalwood molecule. It’s not challenging in any way, it’s not ‘ultra-niche’, it’s just a poor fragrance. People describe Alessandro Gaultieri as a creative genius, I’m not seeing that here - all I’m seeing is someone who needs to scream for attention and threw together a handful of messy aroma-chemicals in a hurry.

Eau the Audacity… Penhaligon’s does indeed have some audacity to release a fragrance which is nothing more than something heavily inspired by an already cloned-to-death scent profile. If you couldn’t tell already, it is none other than the scent profile of Dior’s Bois D’Argent. It’s that same combination of a sweet, creamy vanilla, frankincense and leather, and an overwhelming barrage of pepper attacking your nostrils. The thing with these sorts of fragrances is they’re never as good as the original version, which could not be more true in this case. It’s a nice scent, it smells pleasant and I can see why people enjoy it. But there’s no creativity here, no originality, this was simply made for a quick buck and Penhaligon’s will milk it relentlessly. Just buy Bois D’Argent and be done with it.

Babycat is one of those fragrances which the masses praise simply for doing the bare minimum - it smells pleasant. It’s like when people praise celebrities for performing a basic human function. It’s a pleasant enough scent, but for so many people to call it ‘the best vanilla ever’ is a gross overstatement. It’s a nice, smooth, suede-y vanilla scent - it’s soft and creamy but holds back from becoming too sweet. This I imagine is thanks to the frankincense which is quite dry and slightly dense, alongside an overwhelming amount of pepper. It’s very peppery, too much for my taste. If anything, it instantly takes me to the realm of Bois D’Argent and Bois D’Iris - it’s nothing new or ingenious. YSL have taken a tried and tested scent profile and just put a very small spin on it. It’s nice, but lacking creativity.

Light My Fire is the perfect name for such a warming and intoxicating scent. I’ve come to realise that Kilian are very good at walking that line between sexy, and cosy - this does both brilliantly. It’s a sort of dark, earthy tobacco scent done remarkably well. The tobacco is incredibly dry, papery and almost vegetal, I suppose elevated by hay to dry it out even more until it becomes slightly grassy. This grassiness lends itself to a dark and earthy nature through the addition of hefty amounts of patchouli, alongside vetiver and birch. There’s a touch of honeyed sweetness and vanilla, but this is subtle. The patchouli in here reminds me slightly of Straight to Heaven, which I love. However this does take it into a new direction with the sweet tobacco and honey notes. I think this is fantastic, it just smells warming and alluring - I don’t love it as much as Straight to Heaven though, which I adore.

Voulez-Vous Coucher Avec Moi or, “Do You Want to Sleep With Me” is a surprisingly erotic and suggestive name for such polite and refined fragrance. I really enjoy how this smells but it doesn’t convey the sort of imagery you expect; instead, I think of a rich, important woman dressed to the nines in all her finery. Tuberose can be a tricky note for some. If done right, I find it’s one of my favourite notes of all time. This is a good tuberose - but it’s not a great one. It nails that chewy, bubblegummy feel that you would expect from a tuberose scent, but it lacks any carnal, sexual aspect which holds it back - however I can see why they might have done this to appeal to the mass market. Overall it’s a fairly typical tuberose, tempered by a buttery ylang amongst other white florals, rose and a touch of vanilla. Smell great I can’t argue with that, but it’s a little to clean and safe for my liking.