Cochine definitely love using tuberose in their fragrances, with Tuberose Absolute & Sandalwood being their most intense. It’s also one of their best, that is, if tuberose is a note you scan stomach - as there is no hiding from it here. The tuberose itself, thankfully, doesn’t smell like that sickly bubblegum that a lot of tuberose fragrances have, instead it is more supple and bright, favouring a dense soapy facet instead. To counter this, a copious amount of ylang is present which flattens the tuberose with its buttery, creamy smoothness, alongside sandalwood and orris. It’s all rather lovely, until that black pepper hits you in the back of the throat unnecessarily. There’s a running theme with these Cochine fragrances, that for the most part they smell great, but there always seems to be one note which I don’t get on with, somewhat ruining my enjoyment of it. They’re all pleasant, but none have been loves for me, this one included.

White Jasmine & Gardenia is my least favourite of the Cochine lineup, for reasons I find hard to put into words. Despite my love of most florals, this scent contains those few flowers I don’t warm to very well. Some may love it, but it’s not for me. Gardenia is front and centre, as you might expect, but it’s white soapy facets are overshadowed by its earthy element, which becomes overpowering as it combines with the sickly sweet gummy-ness of tuberose and champaca. Aside from this, there are but whispers of mandarin and green leaves. It’s not repulsive, or badly made by any means, it’s just one of those scents which simply isn’t for me. As a whole though, I feel Cochine is overhated on this website.

Frangipani & Neroli is summer in a bottle; it’s bright and uplifting, like the rays of the sun hitting your face in the morning, yet remains grounded and multi-faceted. A delicate dance between the sky and the earth. On one hand, you have the beautiful elements of the bitter orange tree - neroli, petitgrain and mandarin together create a clean and soapy vibrance, tempered by a dense green undergrowth. To counter this, the thick, powdery facets of violet and orris are complemented by the sweet fruity influence of frangipani. It’s a very nice fragrance, but I feel the frangipani takes away from its beauty, forming a direction which feels slightly immature and out of place. Despite that however, it’s a satisfying wear.

Tuberose & Wild Fig is a remarkably pleasant scent which does exactly as it describes; it’s bright and summery without much complexity to it, in a good way. Fig perfumes have become immensely popular and I must say, I have smelled many worse than this. Whilst the fig definitely has elements of sweet, juicy facets, it smells unripe and juvenile - lending to its green, bitter facets which is elevated by galbanum. Citrus fruits help to lift the scent, alongside the tuberose and jasmine which give it an overall delicate shine. It’s very nice actually. I don’t love it enough to justify buying a full bottle, but I will absolutely enjoy wearing my sample this summer, and I don’t think it deserves the harsh rating it’s received on Fragrantica.

Looking amongst the line of Cochine perfumes, they all seem to have terrible ratings on Fragrantica. Whilst there isn’t anything I adore from them, none of them are objectively bad; case in point, Vanille & Tabac Noir. Which I think is actually rather great. At the core of the scent is a wonderful note of tobacco blossom, which is bright and summery, whilst retaining a dry touch of actual tobacco. What really stands out to me however is a sharp, bitter note of bergamot underscored by an intensely green and herbal basil, accompanied by a flourish of nutmeg. This dominates the floral aspect of the tobacco blossom, instead leaning the scent more fresh-spicy. I enjoy this one a surprising amount. It’s not exactly a complex scent, a running them of Cochine fragrances, instead basking in the simplicity of the raw materials. It’s very nice, but I don’t adore it enough to buy a bottle.

The original Iommi scent has received an endless amount of hype, however it’s never been a love for me. The scent itself is different enough, which I must say is refreshing amongst flankers these days, but I find myself wanting more from many Xerjoff releases, this one included. An overwhelmingly sweet pairing of warm, honeyed saffron and juicy green apples leads the way, which is quite nice actually. This saffron is furthered by touches of rose and a patchouli base, alongside warm spicy cinnamon. Leather makes this smooth and balanced. I will admit, I like this more than the original Iommi, it’s undeniably inviting and alluring. However as I mentioned, it leaves me wanting more. I don’t find my eyes rolling back in my head when I smell it, but instead simply finding it satisfying - which for me isn’t worth paying hundreds for.

I’ve been keen to get my hands on Libertine Neroli for a while now, and it has definitely met my expectations. Neroli is not a favourite note of mine, I’ve often found I struggle to find one I enjoy, but this is easily one of my favourites - likely due to the pronounced chypre style it adopts, which speaks to my heart. The neroli is light and airy, gently cleansing the air around you like the finest French soaps, but it is grounded heavily by a dense overdose of oakmoss and leather. The petitgrain and bergamot balance this dichotomy between light and dark, giving the scent a much needed freshness. It’s the oakmoss which draws me in further, tending my love for the scent. This scent epitomises what I love about Francesca’s work, that is perfume which is heavily inspired by classical French perfumery. This scent has a strong association with old white floral chypres, yet retains a dense powdery facet, characteristic of her creations.

Rubeus Bleu is a scent I’ve been itching to try after hearing a good degree of hype online about it, and when something costs over £800 for 50ml you immediately expect greatness. That’s not to say it’s not great, because it does smell lovely, but the price has got to be a publicity stunt surely; there are countless fragrances which are absurdly priced, but this takes the cake. It’s a perfectly enjoyable powdery leather scent, a dusty Iris note leads the way which is at once soft and creamy, yet reminiscent of old face powder. The leather is soft and gentle, bolstered by a bitter, rindy array of citrus fruits, giving the scent a masculine fresh facet. It smells like a distinguished Italian man, nothing more, nothing less; it smells classy and sophisticated, but not nearly as expensive as it actually is. I simply cannot wrap my head around how this costs more than £16/ml - it’s absolute insanity. To think you could get yourself a 75ml of Henry Jacques for less money, owning this fragrance has the same social effect as a gaudy Gucci t-shirt. Smells very nice though.

Gheorghe, my first encounter with Strangers Parfumerie, as I delve deeper into the work of Prin Lomros. This is a rather odd scent, not in a bad way, it’s just unlike anything I’ve smelled before - there is so much going on all at once, and yet there is a harmony to it, a smooth balance. This gorgeously sweet note of whiskey kicks things off, made delicious and inviting through the addition of vanilla, tonka and elemi before delving into a dark base. A dense, peaty tobacco emerges which is at once damp and earthy, as it is warm and inviting, with a slight spicy facet from the presence of carnation, clove and woods. All of this rests on a bed of subtle creamy florals, providing that balance. I actually find myself enjoying this quite a lot, it’s far more appealing and easy to like than the other works of Prin I’ve tried - it’s lovely. I’m not sure I’d buy a bottle however, simply because it’s not my usual taste - great creation though.

I have tried a handful of Prin’s work in-store before, but Nocturnal Poetry is my first experience with his house on skin. There’s so much going on in this wondrously complex scent that it’s hard to unpack, it’s like a dazzling cacophony of animal musks, spices, and flowers. Cumin is most prominent to my nose, so powerful it’s like stuffing your nose in a jar of the stuff - made even more piercing with the urinous facet of civet screaming in your face. A soft leathery sweetness through beeswax emerges soon after, elevated and given a much needed delicate brightness by way of jasmine, violet leaf and rose. Despite the busy nature of this scent, cumin prevails above all else which makes it rather polarising. I quite enjoy it to be honest - it’s not something I would own because I simply wouldn’t wear it day to day, for it doesn’t match my personal tastes. But as an artistic creation, it’s fabulous, a scent so rugged and unique it truly makes you feel something, which is rare these days.