Chanel, Tom Ford & BDK – Mini-reviews April to June 2019 [part 1]

A selection of perfume mini-reviews published on social media between April and June 2019. For more mini-reviews, please click here.

Fougere Platine from Tom Ford (2018)*
One of Mr Ford’s many takes on retro vibes, this time channeling the bitter, lavender-patchouli of Rive Gauche Pour Homme, with extra spice. Certainly enjoyable, in an almost-comical, young-man-wearing-his-Dad’s-clothes-to-fancy-dress-party kind of way.

Fougere D’Argent from Tom Ford (2018)*
If Fougere Platine is for the hairy, fun-loving dwarves, then Argent is for the more brittle, crystalline elves. Cleaner, more pine-like, more citrusy, sharper, brighter, somewhat more initmidating. I know whose company I’d prefer.

Sycomore edt from Chanel (Jacques Polge & Christopher Sheldrake; 2008)**
I adore the opening of Sycomore (and I’m referring to the edt version here; I’ve yet to familiarise myself with the edp). The way the vetivert and the sandalwood meld into each other is nothing short of breathtaking — they create a veritable landscape of utter refinement, populated by figures who communicate with each other using little more than silent nods, raised eyebrows, demure glances. But then the vetivert begins to take over, and something happens. The same thing, in fact, that happens to most out-and-out vetiverts. The note becomes more vegetal, fleshier, almost coarser. It begins to head into the territory of leeks, garlic, sulphuric fluids. To my nose, the same occurs in the likes of Guerlain’s Vetiver, Lalique’s Encre Noire, ELDO’s Fat Electrician. (I gather Malle tried to fight this very effect when making his Vetiver Extraordinaire — and by many accounts, he succeeded.) I realise and accept that this is the normal path of the development of vetivert oil. And yet, when it comes to Sycomore, I always wish it weren’t true. Because I so want to adore this piece of work. And each time I spray it, the opening convinces me that maybe this will be the occasion when I finally fall for its charms. But that hasn’t happened yet. 

Tabac Rose from BDK (2019)*
At first, you think this’ll be another Arabian rose – dirty, earthy and wet – but then more facets emerge. A thorny side. Hints of green. Boozy languor. A gorgeous world-weariness; the husky tones of a film noir femme fatale.

1978 Les Bains Douches from Les Bains Guerbois (Bertrand Duchaufour; 2017)*
Supposedly inspired by one of the world’s “wildest” nightclubs, but this austere, booze-&-tobacco concoction feels more like a sedate, wood-panelled library than a locale for nocturnal hedonists. Powdery drydown adds hint of softness.

1885 Bains Sulfureux from Les Bains Guerbois (Dorothee Piot; 2017)*
Intriguing, green-powdered-chocolate opening leads to bright citruses and haughty, powdery, balsamic heart. Like the grand old aunt of Coromandel, or Dickens presented by David Lean, all plush textures and aristocratic demeanours.

Code Absolu Parfum from Armani (Antoine Maisondieu; 2019)*
Oh look, someone thought we don’t have enough citrus-woody-ambery, generic masculines. Yes, we are reaching an absolute of some sort. Trouble is, some of us thought we’d got there ages ago, but clearly, there was still plenty of territory left to cross.

Rosefire from Hermetica (Alienor Massenet; 2018)*
Overpowering start of jammy, violet rose – that familiar lipstick accord – grows larger and more garish as it progresses. A scary Barbie made even more frightening with war-movie, interrogation-scene spotlights.

Jade 888 from Hermetica (Alienor Massenet; 2018)*
Thoroughly fascinating heart — a tiny sliver of ginger balanced on a blade of frozen grass. As strange and compelling as Jardin Apres La Mousson. Then grows increasingly ozonic, musky and crass.

Thé Darbouka from L’Orchestre Parfum (Anne-Sophie Behaghel & Amelie Bourgeois; 2017)*
Weak-willed, minty, woody opening against an unconvincing synth background. Should’ve left the tea bag in longer.

Cuir Kora from L’Orchestre Parfum (Anne-Sophie Behaghel & Amelie Bourgeois; 2017)*
Unexpectedly bright leather opening – with a tart mango note – leading to a spicy, bitter, rubbery heart that almost makes you think you’ve got a weird taste in your mouth. Interesting, if a touch crude.

Persolaise

* sample provided by brand
** sample obtained by me