Category Archives: Cologne

Undeterred by Jo Malone’s take on saffron, I returned to that spicy inspiration while exploring the world of Byredo Parfums this past weekend in Boston. My first brush with the house was in Las Vegas, of all places. I’d just won a hundred bucks on roulette and rather than letting anything ride, I took my paltry winnings and went directly to Barneys to have something to show for it. Since it was well over a hundred degrees (it being Las Vegas in August) I chose ‘Palermo’ – a refreshing grapefruit fragrance that lifted my heat-fatigued spirits. One never forgets their first time, and for better or worse the lighter, summery aspects of ‘Palermo’ meant that I unfairly relegated Byredo to a similar compartment.

This time of the year demands something darker and heavier, and despite my minimalist leanings earlier in the season, I decided I need something with a little more oomph. As I stepped into Barneys in Boston, I went back to Byredo in the hope that there was something richer than ‘Palermo’ ~ and there most certainly was: the bold ,the brazen, and the bodacious punch of ‘Black Saffron.’

This one has a riotous beginning, starting with a bang and not letting up until the very end. The saffron hits you right up front, followed by a luscious period of leather. Hints of petrol, in a not-entirely unpleasant way (but certainly not for everybody) dominate for a bit. Stay with it through this, don’t run away. It’s not going to explode, but it is something you’ve got to get over. Eventually, after a bit of dry down, the real gem reveals itself: a rich sweet oriental musk, almost cloying, and certainly not quiet. It’s got a similar flavor to that of the similarly-titled ‘Black Orchid’ by Tom Ford.

I thought I wanted to be quiet this winter, but sometimes you’ve just got to make some noise. ‘Black Saffron’ is here to shake it all up. Sound the alarm and prepare the olfactory systems. Full steam ahead.

A winter weekend of solitude was accented by an exploratory fragrance journey to Barneys in Boston, whereby I tried out a trio of scents for winter wear. I was on the look-out for my Valentine’s Day wish list, and it boiled down to these contenders: ‘Bal D’Afrique’, ‘Black Saffron’ and ‘L’Eau D’Hiver.’ I went in expecting to purchase the ‘Bal D’Afrique’, and request the ‘Black Saffron’ as a Heart Day treat, but as is usual on my cologne expeditions, this one took a twist and a turn, and ended with me using some Christmas money to get the ‘Black Saffron’ right up front (more on that later).

Which means my Valentine’s Day wish list has boiled down to but one selection: L’Eau D’Hiver. Executed wondrously by Jean-Claude Ellena, this loosely translates as ‘Winter Water’ and is meant to personify this season’s softer, melancholy aspects with a powdery bit of heliotrope, tempered by iris and honey to add warmth. Somehow, the genius that is Mssr. Ellena comes through, as the scent manages to be both icy and warm. It’s also one of the most sophisticated fragrances I’ve tried in a while. Available online here from Barneys, it’s a price point down a notch or two from Tom Ford, which should be a relief to Andy. Unless he feels generous and goes for the 100 ml… (Relax, I haven’t given up on Mr. Ford, but his latest ‘Patchouli Absolu’ is not on my must-have list. L’Eau D’Hiver most definitely is. )

As for Valentine’s Day, as much as I appreciate the sentiment of flowers and chocolates and such, they never last, and if I stand any chance to turn my burgeoning belly around I can’t have candy in the house anyway. This season, it’s about the fragrance. (Hey, it can always be worse for the wallet: I could be touting the virtues of diamonds, and sending someone on an errand to Tiffany’s.)

Clean. Crisp. Citrusy.

This is ‘M; Men’ ~ a fragrance by Masakï Matsushïma. Pretentious punctuation aside, it’s a good scent for this time of the year, when I want things to be stream-lined and simple after the excess of the holidays and the clearing out of the seasonal decorations. To that end, this cologne lends its minimalist nature of citrus and vetiver (more on vetiver later) to create an atmosphere of refined simplicity. It’s got some tea notes as well for depth, but it’s not an overpowering scent by any means. I like that right now, when I’m looking to be quiet. Understated elegance trumps gaudiness… for now.

This is a bit of a lead-in post for my next Tom Ford acquisition. It’s not a Private Blend, so forget your fantasy of ‘Moss Breches’ or ‘Tobacco Oud’ and think more mainstream. Something for the office, for the day. A classic, given a modern Tom Ford twist. In the meantime, think M; Men.

Bundled into a Jo Malone gift scent set that Andy got me for Christmas was the ‘Saffron’ scent pictured here (coupled, rather unimaginatively, with a jar of that pricey spice.) While the allure of saffron has thus far eluded me – both in taste and fragrance – I’ve seen some gorgeous work using it, particularly under Frederick Malle’s oversight, so I eagerly sprayed it on and waited for the magic to begin.

The best part is the first part. Opening with a strong saffron scent infused with leather, it’s a warm beginning, perfect for this time of the year. The leather adds a necessary gravitas that prevents this from becoming some incidental culinary concoction. Once it fades, however, we veer straight into the kitchen with a lingering dry-down of vanilla (the bane of my existence.) For this reason, I’m not a biggest fan. It does, as part of the intense cologne line, have a bit more staying power than much of Jo Malone’s offerings, but if it’s just going to be vanilla that stays, I’d rather the whole thing depart. This is one combination that’s better going into the stomach than onto the skin.

From the time I was a little boy, fragrance has always been part of my style. When my mother was finishing school and had to be away on certain nights, I’d sneak into her bathroom and spray a bit of her perfume to remind me of her. One unintended bonus was when my Dad tucked me in and said I smelled nice. Maybe that’s what planted the seed, this flippant comment, thrown out in the dark of night to fill the silence, as some sweet, flowery magic settled around me. Since then, I’ve always been aware of the power of fragrance, its potency as a memory-conjuror, and the way it makes an experience unforgettable.

Take, for instance, the peony. There are three distinct, if fleeting, moments I recall from childhood, and all come to mind when I smell that flower’s perfume. The first is of a sunny early summer day in our neighbor’s yard. They had a long bed of them, in various shades of pink and white. I stood there, on the other side of a chain-link fence, smelling the fragrance waft through the metal, and reaching out my greedy hands to touch the pristine petals. Somehow, I wanted to become part of that beauty, to inhabit it and experience it and live in it. Mrs. Moyer came over and politely admonished me not to pick any. I’d hoped my admiration would result in a bountiful bouquet given out of the kindness of her heart. As a gardener myself now, I understand her reluctance to be so gracious.

The second memory is of a still day in my parents’ house. I bounded down the stairs and was about to speed out the back door into the sun-lit day when I paused. Alerted by some delicious scent, I looked around and saw a big bouquet of peonies. They filled the room with their exquisite perfume, probably the only thing that could have stopped the rush of a boy running outside – at least this particular boy. I walked over to the flowers and leaned into them, inhaling the richness and closing my eyes as I took it all in.

The third memory is even simpler: I’m standing in Suzie’s yard, feet wet from the rain that had come during the night, and smelling the somewhat-dampened fragrance of the heavy heads of peonies that were bowed down from the water. Nothing more, nothing less. I don’t know why I was there, or what we were doing, but I remember the peonies, and the perfume, and to this moment that scent brings me back to the possibility of a summer day.

Later, many years later, the peony would come to recall our wedding day, the magic of May, and that wonderful moment in the Boston Public Garden.

In a way, that’s the power I try to harness every time I find a new cologne to wear. I want to leave a memory in my wake, to make an impression. Like so much of my life, it’s done to create an effect, to leave someone – anyone -with something that they’ll remember. It wasn’t a particular scent I wanted to align myself with, as that would be dreadfully boring – but rather the connotation of something pretty, of something beautiful. It wasn’t, “That smells like Alan” which I wanted to conjure, it was, “That smells damn good.”

I’ll work on the Alan part later.

A vacation can be made or broken based on the books one brings along. For my recent excursion to Florida, I was lucky enough to have a great one: ‘The Perfect Scent’ by Chandler Burr. It’s a compelling comparison of the way two fragrances were made, and an inside study of the perfume industry. Aside from the subject matter (of which I am admittedly obsessed), Mr. Burr has a way of making the most complex molecular equations come to life, as he goes about the scientific and emotional pull of the making and wearing of perfume.

Since my first brush with Calvin Klein’s ‘Eternity’ in the early 90’s, I’ve always had an arsenal of fragrances on hand, ready for any olfactorial battle. I’d like to think my tastes have evolved and refined over the ensuing years. (Yes, I had my ‘Cool Water’ and ‘Curve’ moments, but there’s an easy rule of thumb when deciding on which cologne is right: if you can get it in CVS you probably shouldn’t get it at all.)

Of late, my obsession has been the Amouage line. Several years ago I tried my first sample, but I think it was too soon. I’d just gotten into the Private Blends of Tom Ford, and I was still finding my way in the fragrance world. Such development doesn’t happen overnight, and in much the same way that tastes for food evolve and change (for some of us), so too did my preference for certain scents. Now, I’m ready to give Amouage another whirl. For winter, I need something more substantial than Jo Malone, something deeper than citrus, and more resonant than a wispy floral. A Chypre or Oriental perhaps, and from the descriptions I’ve read that’s what Amouage does best.

Behold the pomegranate. I never really noticed any prominent scent from it (and I’ve done my share of de-seeding them in recent months) but the notion forms the base of Jo Malone’s ‘Pomegranate Noir’ fragrance. I have a feeling the House of Malone used the name for its image and connotation rather than any inherent perfume from its fruit, but when the resulting concoction is this good, it doesn’t really matter.

This scent is one of Malone’s stronger creations – far more substantial than the light wisps of beauty she usually conjures. That said, it’s still somewhat fleeting, requiring repeated applications, or a base of accompanying lotion to boost the lasting power. It’s gorgeous though – more rounded and fruity than I traditionally wear, but perfect for the holidays. I’m also enamored of the way the fruitiness subdues the noir aspects (I’m not a noir fan when it comes to colognes – even Tom Ford‘s ‘Noir et Noir’ doesn’t impress me much).

Every year I make the same vow: to finish my holiday gift shopping before December so I can simply enjoy the season and focus on family and friends. This year, I am determined to make that goal. To that end, I’ve already secured my main family gifts. Yes, I’m that organized and anal, and it’s always served me well. You may lament  or resent such fastidiousness and planning, but it makes my world a happier one.

To aid those in similar pursuits, particularly when it comes to gift giving for myself, I’m already working on this year’s Christmas wish list. To get your engines revving, and your bank account swelling, here are a few initial ideas as seen on my Amazon Wish List. Could I have made it any easier for you? Hardly. Thus far they are ranked in order of desire, but that is subject to change. In fact, this very weekend I’ll be out scoping a few of the listed fragrances to make a few final selections. Right now, Tom Ford is in the lead with his all-but-impossible-to-procure ‘London’ fragrance (to accompany a future honeymoon), but I’ve been favoring lighter scents of late, including the most recent scrumptious offering of ‘Wood Sage and Sea Salt’ by Jo Malone. Byredo Parfums have also been tickling my fancy, and I’m anxiously awaiting a session to sample their ‘Gypsy Water’ (which has so far eluded me) as well as their ‘Black Saffron‘ and ‘Bal D’Afrique.’

Wherever we may end up, it’s going to smell delightful getting there.

When Prada introduced one of its first colognes onto the market, I drove breathlessly into Boston to purchase it. I was ready to buy it scent unsniffed, but this was my first lesson that no matter how much you may admire a brand, it doesn’t always automatically register into a love of its fragrance. As I sprayed a generous spritz onto my wrist, I instantly recoiled: it was awful. Well, maybe not awful, but awful on me, and awful to my olfactory receptors. At the time, I wasn’t ready for the complexity of such a fragrance. There is a learning curve involved in developing one’s appreciation for cologne, and at that point Prada was too much.

I revisited every new launch, but for some reason the magic of Prada always eluded me. There was something too floral about it, tinged with a chemical note that I found slightly repellant. I’m not saying they were bad, simply not suited to my taste. Yet times, and tastes, change, and the challenge of Prada that I could not quite answer years ago can be taken up and conquered now.

Pictured here is Luna Rossa – one of the new Prada fragrances. If my years of Latin are recalled correctly, I think it roughly translates as Red Moon. Perfect for a fragrance to bridge the gap between summer and fall, when the nights turn cold, and only a red moon is there to remind you of the heat that came just days before.

Part of my prior Prada reluctance was due to the fact that I was making quick decisions based on sample sticks and hasty dry-downs. This time around I boldly spritzed some on and let it linger on me for a while, and that’s when the transformation took hold. Those chemical aspects dissipated quickly, replaced by warmer shades of something richer and earthier. Spicy notes crept into the mid-section, and the evolution of this cologne on the skin restored my faith in the Prada name. Patience and perseverance are often rewarded, particularly when it comes to fragrance. For that reason, Luna Rossa may not be for everyone, but if carefully employed can be an elegant addition to a gentleman’s cologne arsenal.

Our anniversary snuck up on us this year, so I barely have time to make a last-minute gift idea, but if my husband is reading this I’d like to direct his attention to a reasonable request found in the local Sephora. This is ‘L’Eau d’ Issey Pour Homme Yuzu’ by Issey Miyake. About a third the price of a Tom Ford Private Blend, this is more in keeping with our budget these days, and more in line with an anniversary that falls in a quieter way.

I tried it on a few weeks ago, and was going to pick up a bottle when I was in Boston last, but the Prudential Center Sephora was sold out of it. I’m not saying that folks in Boston have better taste than those in the Capital District, but Colonie Center still has it in supply. Just saying.

As for its scent, this one owes its origins and opening notes to the yuzu – an Asian citrus that formed the basis of a summer party we threw a couple of years ago. It’s the perfect accompaniment for a summer that’s still fresh.