Chinatown
Bond No. 9 (2005)

A woody floral with a touch of vanilla, though what stands out most is the blend of tuberose and gardenia. Everything else fades into the background.

It’s smooth, well-blended, and definitely not what I expected based on the name. While it comes across as a refined floral, it feels a bit underwhelming to me. Performance is decent, and it would work well in the spring. It leans feminine but is still wearable for anyone. This is one I’d probably revisit.

I have frequented the Chinatowns of NYC, Chicago, LA, and San Francisco, and never once did I smell anything like this at any of them. Which, I guess, I should find peculiar. China is the world’s largest producer of peaches; they’ve been growing them for thousands of years. You better love peaches to love Bond No. 9’s Chinatown. This fruity floral chypre is bound and determined. Energetic, actually. The hustle, bustle, vibrancy, and drama that seems to infect every Chinatown I’ve been to is present here. Once the sweet, effervescent, juicy peaches in the opening dispense the tuberose and gardenia of the heart layer are loud and clear with their diva qualities. Fleshy, creamy, nutty, a touch musky animalic, a sharp edge here or there, a bit of silky orange blossom to keep the fruity lean - it’s big, it’s loud, and it’s going to pull you right in. It’s a ruse, though. This isn’t a chypre. What is it? Damned if I know. I want to call it gourmand. The sweetness, the fruit, and the creamy and vanillic florals all give way to a white chocolate, straight vanilla and patchouli base mixed with creamy sandalwood. Perfumers and houses have long held this fascination with wanting to make sandalwood seem edible, and Chinatown makes no secret of this intent.

Consider my appetite whetted. Is that my stomach growling? Gardenia and tuberose have long been easy sells for me, and I don’t know why. Even the classical or jazz devotee likes some saccharine pop music track or two. I’ve never wanted to eat them though. Corny. Cheesy. Crass. Puerile. Bordering on slapstick comedy. A Three Stooges sketch of a food fight. Darn good fun to wear.

It has taken me years to appreciate Chinatown as the peach note used to put me off when I first tried it many years ago.

I now really enjoy wearing Chinatown. It is a fruity fragrance with a very long lasting accord that I wear in the colder months.

Thumbs up!

A really interesting take on a fruity floral, Chinatown kicks off with a red fruit smell that I can't quite place - sort of plummy but with a timbre that calls to mind cherry. There's also a bit of minty sharpness. Given time, an effusive floral quality opens up underneath the fruit. It's the loudness of tuberose without smelling directly like tuberose, and the brightness of violets without really smelling like violets either. This heart of hard-to-describe fruits, flowers, and green makes up most of Chinatown, until a dry coumarin that smells sort of like tobacco leaves, but with a vanilla sweetness, comes in.

I'm impressed how Chinatown smells like it's made of familiar elements, but somehow never smells directly like its parts. Instead, it's more like an abstract impression of a fruity tobacco floral, all colors and swirls that exist more as a metaphor than a specific. While the end result is sweeter and fruitier than I generally like, I still think this earns a thumbs up for cleverness and artistry.

Chinatown is a creamy woody vanilla floral. Smells like candy and I love it. I smell peach blossom, gardenia and vanilla rounded off by patchouli. I can't stop smelling myself. Last a long time on me. Delicious!

The peach blossom and bergamot are delightful, at the top. I only wish they lasted longer. Chinatown is dominated by gardenia and tuberose. These flowers persist all the way over and through the base. The base is smooth with notes of patchouli, cedar, vanilla, and sandalwood. Overall this is an exotic, enjoyable floral perfume.