He Wood by Dsquared2 : Perfume Review

I was fairly impressed with Dsquared2’s first fragrance, a 2007 masculine release titled He Wood. Despite my good impressions of the scent I never got down to actually reviewing it, but with the brand’s newest release She Wood now out in the shops, I figured I’d kill two birds with one stone. Today we take a look at He Wood, and come Friday we’ll explore its counterpart, the feminine She Wood.

Dean and Dan’s first fragrance, He Wood, reflects their love of their native Canada and draws inspiration from the country’s gorgeous nature, making wood the focal point. I love the bottle, which I find elegant in its unique simplicity and intriguing with its eye-catching asymmetry (the stopper is placed off-center). The square glass container is completely framed by Canadian Red Alder wood, which makes it wonderfully tactile as well as renders every bottle unique due to differences in grain and hue. Now, on to the juice itself: The top, middle and base notes are conceptualized as air, water and wood accords respectively, and each is meant to represent different characteristics. The Air accord is purity and sensuality, the Water accord is freshness and fluid energy, while the Wood accord is seen as pivot, the fragrance’s true personality. Reading this might lead you to think that He Wood goes through very distinct phases, with each of the accords unfolding almost independently over time. This however is not true. The woody base notes, namely light, sweet vetiver and smoky, distinctive cedar run through the composition from start to finish, like the skeleton around which the rest of the fragrance is fleshed out. Around these woody notes we find the presence of velvety, smooth sweetness in the opening. The official notes list Silver Fir, Vegetal Amber and Musk, but I struggle to pick out any of them individually. What I get the beautiful, aforementioned gentle sweetness, a light musky presence like a naked body under an overcast sky ready to pour down. The ambery note is intensified for just a brief moment in time, giving us a taste of resin before subsiding in the moisture that quickly makes its arrival. The watery notes found at the heart of He Wood are subtle and careful. There is enough freshness there to appease the average male shopper, but not quite enough of it to make the more discerning niche-lover turn up his or her nose, so to speak. Most interesting is the way the light watery accord blends so perfectly with the intense powdery scent of violets, effectively translating the relationship between water and air that always seems to be playing around the core of wood. Bizarrely, the smoky, dense character of cedar is silenced in the drydown in favor of an ever-intensifying steely cold vetiver note that smells and feels metallic. This is a very evocative perfume, which is extremely successful in its attempt to match the scent with the ad copy. The wearer will have no trouble ‘seeing’ the images painted by the perfumer, and even finding themselves starring in the fantasy of the Canadian woodland, as lone figures unafraid of the dark and pregnant with rain clouds overhead. The whipping of the hard rain on naked skin, the rich smell of the woods, all have a macho appeal - however the genius of He Wood is that this is always set against the sensitivity of musky sweetness and the clean, feminine comfort of powdery violet.

Images: http://sito.dsquared2.com

Kelly Calèche by Hermès : Perfume Review

*This post is dedicated to the wonderful, warmhearted, generous friend who recently gifted me with a bottle of Kelly Calèche. She always impresses me with her great manners and thoughtful character. May her generosity find its way back to her tenfold.*

Last summer, Hermès’ newest launch, caused quite a stir among perfume aficionados: Everyone wanted to have a whiff of the newest member of the Calèche family and even though most conceded the juice was not quite what they had expected it to be, most found it a very likeable, wearable scent. And while the perfume world was buzzing, Fragrance Bouquet kept quiet... I just couldn’t bring myself to love it – in fact I hated it. My own excitement about this fragrance had quickly fizzled out when one bright summer morning I spritzed this fragrance on a paper strip for the first time. Disaster. I couldn’t even bring myself to procure a little sample vial to review it – the only words that I could come up to describe this scent were ‘vile bug spray’ and my brain refused to elaborate further. And so I pushed Kelly Calèche out of my mind, unwisely remaining with that first impression I got from that paper strip for more than six months now. It never crossed my mind to try it on myself: the thought of having to live with the bug spray trail emitting from my own skin was too horrible to even contemplate. The months went by. And then it found its way to my doorstep... And I am besotted.

What a difference a spray on the skin makes... The scent of the jus sprayed on the skin bares absolutely no resemblance to the scent on a blotting strip. Where did the harshness go? This is soft, delicate, restrained even. Most have complained that the leather in this composition is almost undetectable, a mere hint rather than an accentuated accord, but Kelly Calèche’s first bloom on my skin is actually full-on leather. It is neither animalic, nor heavy as most leathers tend to be, but it is, to my nose at least, unmistakably leather. It is the whiff of leather you get that first moment when you open the door of an extremely expensive car decked with leather interior, the whiff of leather you can smell on your skin after having worn a supple, black kidskin glove for the first time. Slowly, the leathery scent subsides and gives way to a heart of cool iris, buttery and deep, colored by my mind’s eye in pastel shades of grey and pink – like a sunset that breaks through the clouds of a summer storm. It is surrounded by garlands of tiny flowers I can’t quite identify: their scent is neither reminiscent of the officially listed notes of narcotic tuberose, nor of the honeyed, magical smell of mimosas that has stopped me dead in my tracks so many times when taking an evening stroll in the summertime. The drydown is powdery and soft, with leather brought back to the fore in a subtle manner, which enhances the wearer’s own skin scent.

The overall feel of Kelly Calèche is slightly musty and very dry: those who like me, love bitter scents, are sure to fall for this one. Its finish is soft and subtle – a cultivated and refined skin scent whose sensibilities object to anything remotely vulgar. This coolly sophisticated fragrance is suited for every season, but in my opinion performs –as well as blooms- best in warmer weather, especially during springtime. It's one of those scents that reek of good breeding, quiet confidence and expensive taste. In the daytime, it begs for jodhpurs, boots and silk scarves or jeans worn with crisp white shirts and leather accessories. Those who have not considered this as a nighttime scent though, will be surprised when pairing it with a strapless cocktail dress cinched at the waist with a wide leather belt. Kelly Calèche simply puurrrs on bare shoulders...


Image: www.hermes.com

Dior Homme by Dior : Perfume Review

“Mmmmm, oooooooh, my!” ...is all I can think, again and again every time I smell Dior Homme. How can something be so beautiful? This perfume has cast a spell on me: I am ready to make the wildly unrealistic proclamation that this is the classiest male fragrance I have ever smelled, at the very least among the non-niche offerings. Several weekends in a row now, I’ve found myself in front of the admittedly limited (at least in comparison to the ones showcasing female fragrances) shelves of male fragrances at my local Douglas, testing male scents with my partner to find the perfect one for him. He is leaning towards Prada. As for me...there is no question: no matter how much I like what he is testing at the moment, the instant he puts Dior Homme on his skin I am ready to tell the world that I’ve found genius in a bottle. The rest simply seem to pale in comparison: once Dior Homme makes an appearance, the rest suddenly appear cheaper, lacking. It has one thing in such abundance, the rest seem to have none at all when put side by side. That thing, is class.

The iris starts out buttery, almost solid, I want to take it all in, devour it. I do not get tired of inhaling it, I do not find myself wanting to take a step back to enjoy the scent from a distance...No, I want to stay there, nose pressed against the skin, sniffing wildly like an animal, lest I miss a precious molecule that might fly off unnoticed. Re-reading this last sentence I realize these are words I’d usually reserve for something intensely musky, that never fails to awaken a primal sexual desire... But Dior Homme isn’t even remotely dirty, nor does it try to be suggestive. It smells brave and lonely, hardy and fragile at once, like the edge of winter. The iris soon goes from buttery to strangely metallic: the sound effect of a well-whetted blade being drawn, a blade so sharp it would push into flesh with an ease that would ensure the victim felt no pain until it was far too late. The choice of words is not casual: there is an element of danger in this otherwise calm, collected...perhaps even calculated scent. Something of a breath, a last warm sigh amidst the wintry chill. Then everything softens with a quite unexpected sweetness – a thawed heart that manages to beat again, slowly, like a clock that counts every precious moment. Smelling it on the skin of a loved one, I get the irrepressible urge to cuddle, feeling rather protective. Smelling it on my own skin, this sudden, almost illusory warmth, speaks of cable knit sweaters and sheepskin lined boots. Each time this gorgeous scent enters another stage, I can’t help but feel a pang of regret, which is soon replaced by gladness, for I do enjoy everything it has to offer. The drydown is not an exception... I can’t help but feel disappointed as the already quiet scent loses intensity, as though dispersed in the winds. Yet soon I settle in, once again interested, once again intrigued. Readily, I take in its powdery feel, dry and woody, like a scratched bourbon vanilla pod. The merest hint of leather keeps my senses entranced, dispelling any thoughts that a powdery finish might veer into the realm of the mundane. To me, this is a masterpiece.

Images: www.100aromatov.ru and www.imageafter.com

Yukimi by Annayake : Perfume Review

When I was a child, time seemed to stand still. Each season was endless, each year lasted a decade. As I grow older, seasons seem to come and go in the most fleeting of manner, each one melding quickly into the next, a year gone in the blink of an eye. So have the seasons of Annayake passed before our eyes and we have invariably arrived to the last one, the longest stretch of the year, Winter.

Yukimi means “snowviewing”, and once again, the name bestowed upon this fragrance fits the composition wonderfully. I’ve never experienced coolness and warmth blending at once with such effortlessness, with no sense of dissonance whatsoever. And what is perhaps most curious is the overwhelming sense of quietness and stillness that this fragrance delivers.
It is the same sense of quietness I experience when I wake up in the morning with the unwavering certainty that it has snowed the night before, for every single sound in nature is eerily muffled. I love mint in fragrances, and its addition in Yukimi is utter perfection, boldly announcing crisp cool winds and steely light. The fruit in the blend quickly brings me back inside the warmth of the house, where mother is throwing rinds of mandarin oranges and peels of apples in the lit fireplace, thereby scenting the air with festive aromas. Cool musks, cedar and soft powder, enveloped by the warmest of amber, enfold me in a bubble no sound can fully penetrate. They form a safe cocoon, offering protection from over-stimulation and the demands of adulthood. Time stands still again, affording me the luxury of reflection.

The woman that will gladly dance among the falling snowflakes, the woman this perfume is meant for, is rare, uncustomary. She is a self-assured innovator. It is not by chance that my mind places her dancing in winter wonderland. Even though she is a grown up, her essence is that of a child. She sparkles, full of joie de vivre. For her, time will still bend, making every season last a lifetime, just so she can suck every single drop of life out of every single day. When snow falls, she’ll still try to catch snowflakes on her tongue. When she goes to bathe in a hot spring up on the hill, she hopes to encounter macaque monkeys, completely unafraid. When she walks home at night, she’ll stop to marvel at the light twinkling inside the stone snow-viewing lanterns, yukimi-gata – even though she has seen them countless times before. Her laughter is crystaline and clear, like snow melting on the first days of spring. Her perfume of choice is subdued, to counter and contrast her playful character. Her perfume is that of innocence and clarity, quiet happiness and sweetness. She chooses something that blurs the lines between her own sweet skin’s scent and the perfume itself. She chooses Yukimi, scenting her neck with a childhood her body has outgrown.

Pictures courtesy of: www.japaneselifestyle.com.au, www.japonia.org and www.hikejapan.com

Burberry by Burberry : Perfume Review

Last night an email prompted me to prepare a skin scent review for today. I wanted to challenge myself by picking something I do not personally wear and I thought I had the perfect contender in my samples drawer: Murmure by Van Cleef & Arpels. Such a misleading name... The darned thing was nothing short of a scream, a foghorn in the dead of the night! Disappointed, I decided to fall back on a well-known friend instead: Burberry by Burberry.

In a series of puzzling marketing moves, the perfume released in 1995 and originally known as Burberry was subsequently renamed Burberry London, only to have its name changed once again recently to plain old Burberry when the new Burberry London scents were released by the British fashion house. The folly of those moves becomes especially apparent when one considers than not all online listings have been brought up to speed with the changes, resulting in considerable confusion. Fans of the fragrance have affectionately dubbed it Burberry Classic, or less eloquently in times of exasperation, as “the one in the pebble shaped bottle”. This is not an undeserving description of the flacon. It is indeed very reminiscent of a large pebble, not only in shape, but also in weight and feel. Its smooth surface fills the palm of one hand very adequately and its substantial weight somehow turns the process of application into a simple luxury, if only because of the slight extra effort one has to exert when using it. It is not a bottle you can just pick up for a quick spray and then drop back onto your dressing table thoughtlessly, and it is this that forces application to be more thoughtful than usual even in the most casual of perfume wearers. The masculine stopper and the simple lines of the flacon set the stage for the clean luxury of the perfume itself.

It all begins with almost effervescent, sparkling fruit. Mouthwatering peach and apricot shine brightly with the addition of fresh mint and brisk bergamot. Despite the full-bodied appeal of these fruits, Burberry always remains rather dry even at the top of its development, with the helpful combination of apple and tagetes. Even though I am not a fan of fruit notes generally speaking, Burberry is one of the few examples that brings out a different aspect of how fruit can be done and manages to get it right for me. It is the dryness of this fragrance that always keeps me interested and intrigued, explored further with the addition of geranium and cedar in the middle notes. Together with sandalwood, musk and amber, these notes conspire to make this fragrance intensely powdery. The end result feels completely parched of any moisture; it is a sheer powder that covers the skin with comfortable cleanness, warmed by a generous dollop of bourbon vanilla. It adheres to the body like a second skin, blurring the lines between one’s own personal scent and the fragrance itself. It is at once comforting and sensual, classy and familiar, like the bosom of a sexy, curvaceous woman in a cashmere sweater. In fact Cashmere would have been the most apt name for this perfume in my oppinion, done so much better than Cashmere by Chopard. While on the subject of perfume comparisons,
Skin by Trussardi smells very, very similar to Burberry, but it is far inferior and nowhere near as dry. Speaking of which, it is still early days, but I do wish to start archiving these reviews at some point – and aside from the more obvious house-name archiving, I would also like to make a perfume-alikes / comparisons link. Something to look forward to in the future.

Pictures courtesy of www.amazon.com, www.dann-online.com and www.duon.de respectively.

Cashmere Mist by Donna Karan : Perfume Review

It is not surprising to me that Cashmere Mist was released in 1994, the same year CK One was introduced. The market was ripe for perfumes that were clean, unobtrusive and almost asexual – perfect matches for the heroin-chic, boyish figures that were advertising clothes at the time. Although admittedly more feminine than CK One, and a good deal more interesting than L’Eau d’Issey, Cashmere Mist is very much a child of its time. Even so, I only discovered it recently and I have to admit it, it was love at first sniff. There is something incredibly comforting about this scent, so aptly named. It smells like clean, powdery skin, skin that is begging to be caressed. It is an abstract concoction that responds so sensitively to my chemistry that it manages to smell slightly different each time. It is a skin scent whose character is always dry; it never smells sweet, despite its soft jasmine and muguet blend. The musk and iris combine beautifully and feature prominently throughout the development, making it powdery and soft from the beginning. And what makes it most special is the gentle, well-worn suede note that is ever so soothing, as well as tame, which I appreciate, since most strong leathers overwhelm me. Cashmere Mist elicits strange memories in my mind, that play like a fast-forwarded flashback scene in a movie: the Noxema roll-on deodorant my mother used to use when I was a child, a visit at the doctor’s when I was a kid – the scent wafting from the clinically clean female doctor comforting me as she laid a hand on my head, clothes straight out of the dryer on a snowy winter’s morning, fast-forward, fast-forward to pictures constructed from the media, colorful Lacoste polo shirts above tiny, blindingly white tennis skirts on a sunny spring day. The smell that fits innocence before adrenarche... and yet, warm flesh wrapped in a fluffy bathrobe on Sunday morning, a scent worn for one’s lover just to say: “I want to have coffee in bed with you”. I did not mean to turn this review into an exercise of freestyle stream of consciousness method, but somehow I found myself compelled to record the strange associations this fragrance elicits in me. After discovering this perfume, I had to rush out and buy it, I find it so charming and well made. I do not regard it as simple, even though it can appear deceptively so. Some have described it as “mumsy” and “old”. If you agree with this statement but have somehow found yourself stuck with a bottle for one reason or the other, here’s a suggestion: Layer it with a tiny bit of Fracas. The end result is very cheerful.

Picture of Cashmere throw courtesy of www.wise4living.com. The limited edition flacon of Cashmere Mist was sourced from www.donnakaranbeauty.com where it is currently available for purchase, with the designer’s signature.