Customize Consent Preferences

We use cookies to help you navigate efficiently and perform certain functions. You will find detailed information about all cookies under each consent category below.

The cookies that are categorized as "Necessary" are stored on your browser as they are essential for enabling the basic functionalities of the site. ... 

Always Active

Necessary cookies are required to enable the basic features of this site, such as providing secure log-in or adjusting your consent preferences. These cookies do not store any personally identifiable data.

No cookies to display.

Functional cookies help perform certain functionalities like sharing the content of the website on social media platforms, collecting feedback, and other third-party features.

No cookies to display.

Analytical cookies are used to understand how visitors interact with the website. These cookies help provide information on metrics such as the number of visitors, bounce rate, traffic source, etc.

No cookies to display.

Performance cookies are used to understand and analyze the key performance indexes of the website which helps in delivering a better user experience for the visitors.

No cookies to display.

Advertisement cookies are used to provide visitors with customized advertisements based on the pages you visited previously and to analyze the effectiveness of the ad campaigns.

No cookies to display.

Far too many brands around today rely on aspirational marketing, bling and hackneyed ideas to try to make an impact on potential buyers. Cue: Electimuss, a perfect example of rather dubious style over substance. That said, it does offer at least one scent that’s worth a second sniff.

Forget Rhodanthe, Platinum Muscus and Venti. Respectively, they are a faux-Arabian leathery rose, a sickly cocktail of laundry musks and a weak-willed, fruity aromatic, and they have nothing new to add to their genres. Saggita is marginally better. In a somewhat forgettable way, it combines milky woods with the banana-inflected, white floral notes reminiscent of Bertrand Duchaufour‘s Amaranthine.

The only one which made me sit up and pay attention was Amber Aquiliaria. Don’t worry: the second part of its name is easily dismissed. There’s nothing oud-like in evidence here. But the amber facet is presented in intriguing fashion. It’s almost as though the perfumer has taken that most quintessential of modern ambers – Christopher Sheldrake‘s Ambre Sultan for Serge Lutens – and replaced the smoky herbal facets with a plummy, sharply medicinal cognac note. Everything else is familiar – the nocturnal vanilla, the singed labdanum, the suggestion of dry citruses at the start – but the evocation of dimly-lit bars does add a welcome twist. The impeccably groomed, dishdash-wearing sheikh of Ambre Sultan has swapped his Abu Dhabi office for a suite at a five-star hotel in London… and he’s just about to start his holiday with a glass of Remy Martin. Interesting.

[Review based on a sample of extrait provided by Electimuss in 2015.]

Persolaise


Note: when it was first published, this post contained an erroneous statement about the creative directorship of the Electimuss brand. Apologies for any inconvenience caused.


Discover more from

Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.

I love hearing from my readers, so please feel free to write a comment or ask a question.