The Baron
Cologne, LTL (1965)

A powdery type 19th century classic from Evyan. In fact, The Baron is the ONLY masculine launch in their arsenal and it's a good one. It doesn't have nuclear performance or spillage but boy it's blended well and you can easily tell this fragrance is of a very high quality. My bottle is quite old and the top notes are slightly off but that burns off in no time. I have a lot of Fragrances in my arsenal of various types and makes and this one I'm proud of.

Long swept aside by the niche snobs and all haters of Oak moss and animatics. That matters NOT to me because this fragrance just draws me in from near and far. The bottle is sharp looking to boot and that's always a plus!
Oh BTW I've read lots of reviews on this fragrance and lots of people mention Oakmoss as a basenote. I can't find Oakmoss listed in this fragrance on this site or anywhere else for that matter.
9/10

Kind of smells like a cheaper Shalimar to me, or maybe Chanel No 5. It's way too feminine, powdery and a bit floral to be a men's fragrance in my opinion.

I haven't worn it on skin yet, but I got a good deal on my bottle, and as a collector, I couldn't pass it up. I'll update this review if it seems different enough on skin. As for now, if you're a male, reading this, I would steer clear of this one.

Update: The dry down is pretty freakin nice. Caught me off guard. It's a smooth lavender, and smells like a barbershop at this point.

The silver bottle is probably one of the most iconic images of my late teenage years, and brings back a flood of memories for me, even if it's just looking at the bottle, let alone smelling the precious juice inside. It's 1990, and I'm shopping at the mall with my girlfriend. I would purchase a fragrance for her every chance I could get. Even at that unexperienced age, I was addicted to fragrance and I wanted ALL the people in my life to smell beautiful. This silver bullet was shining underneath the lighting inside the glass cabinet at the big department store, and I wanted to know WHY this was calling to me. After the first inhale, I was hooked. Even then, it was different. From another era, yet paving its all new way into my heart. This smelled nothing like anything else, and still doesn't. This cologne was my girlfriend's favorite. This was everyone's favorite and they didn't even know it. While most were rocking Cool Waters and Eternity, I was trailblazing with Baron by my side. There was always a guarantee... when I sprayed this on, people complimented me left and right. Each time, everytime. Now I know this is not for everyone. Each of us have our own sniff's that ignite something in us. But for me, this is a first love that continues to be my love, no matter how much time has passed. The notes in this all work together. The opening is sharp. The lavender and citrus tickle your nose and really brighten the mood. As this dries down and ages, its florals and herbs and spices are where the beauty is. The scent is powdery, herbal goodness. Not your typical masculine scent, but not unmasculine at the same time. There is a definite nod to the male persona in this, but also a gentle lightness that carries it to another level. There was reference to a barbershop cleanness to this as well which I totally get. A nod also, to its sister, White Shoulders, the fragrance is unmistakably related to it in composition.The silver bottle makes sense now, and as much as this develops into a powdery herb, the elixir stays quite cool and shiny. The performance on this ( sillage, longevity) is very good. A little goes a long way. This is still on my clothes days later and I don't mind it one bit. For me, this is a walk down teenage memory lane and being a sensitive sentimental, I love how it whisks me back to that time. Although it seems like you are either a lover or hater of this silver bomb, If you want to add something classic, different, daring, and fun to your fragrance library, please try this. I bet if YOU don't like it, you'll get a compliment from someone who DOES.

When you name a perfume for men "The Baron", you sure as Hell better deliver on it, and that's what the husband-and-wife perfume moguls behind Evyan sought to do. Walter Langer Von Langendorff, who was simultaneously a doctor, chemist, and unverified Austrian Baron (can't make this stuff up), and his wife Evelyn Diane Westall, formed the Evyan perfume house after buying out Hartnell, manufacturers of their smash hit White Shouders (1943). The couple launched Evyan in 1945 and re-marketed White Shoulders under the brand, a marquee made by merging Westall's first and middle names together. Diane went by "Lady Evyan" for marketing purposes, while Dr. Baron Von Langendorff used those chemistry skills to compose the perfumes. The duo wanted to distance the house from what they saw as the pedantry and obsessive decorum of the French perfume industry, keeping everything made in America, their chosen home market. Most perfumes from the house were pitched to women because Langendorff was deeply in love with his wife, using her input and drawing his inspiration for all but one composition from her presence. The singular masculine entry was The Baron (1961), a revisionist take on styles popular with dandies in Victorian times, and thus a very powdery affair from start to finish. The fragrance is among several from that period which was marketed explicitly as "for gentlemen", because we were still in the days of American men needing it spelled out for fear of "smelling like a woman", although ironically the makeup of The Baron is extremely similar to White Shoulders in style and development, leading me to believe it was a retooling in the same manner that Jean Carles or Bernard Chant were infamous for when making scents meant for opposite sexes. Whether or not Walter Langer Von Langendorff wore the scent that bore his supposed title is unfortunately not known.

The Baron for the most part predates the resurgence of the fougère in America by about three years, when scents like Brut by Fabergé (1964) or Jade East by Songo/Swank (1964) reignited passion in men's circles for the style using clever marketing. You can expect a sharp floral introduction started by dry bergamot, aldehydes and lemon; there is a bit of lavender hiding in here but for the most part this scent is dominated by powdery orris, heliotrope, rose, muguet, and a dominant carnation. There may still be a pinch of tuberose in this too, but otherwise, the lilac/gardenia/tuberose accord central to White Shoulders has been replaced in The Baron with heliotrope, carnation, and the rose to make The Baron feel fresher and dandier than its older sister. Likewise, the base is totally lacking the civet and benzoin of White Shoulders, seeing the oakmoss bolstered with sandalwood, vetiver, and starting in 1965, a very early use of laundry musks then primarily used in... well, laundry. Ultimately this is only one missing application of coumarin shy of being a fougère anyway, but because it lacks the hay-like semi-sweet heft of tonka, The Baron settles into a 19th Century barbershop vibe similar to Caswell-Massey Jockey Club (1840) or Penhaligon's Hammam Bouquet (1872) without the dirtiness of the latter, taking on a slightly metallic vibe instead. Considering the last time barons were relevant to the current socio-political climate was prior to World War I, this scent completes the task of living up to its name. Wear time is good at 8 hours plus, and the sharp powder will keep sillage strong too, so go easy on applications. I'd say this works best as a part of a wet-shaving routine coupled with the aftershave, or late night casual event with friends that tolerate your taste in vintage perfumes due to how old-fashioned and without reference it is to the average Joe, but suit yourself regardless. There was also a "The Travelling Baron" kit from 1968 which contains an array of grooming products featuring the scent if you wish to attempt going "all in" on The Baron as a signature fragrance.

The Baron made a small stir at a time when there were not so many options for men of the day, outside a bottle of minty aftershave and scant few products released from Arden, Revlon, Avon, and such, or the big French houses that were to the common guy then as niche perfumes seem to be in the 21st century, so I can understand how this could radiate a classy aura back then, even if it would be left behind by fougères and aromatics within just a decade's time. The simple barrel-shaped silver-clad bottle with the red Gothic script lettering inset on an oval-stamped label introduced in 1965 (to fall in line with the aggressive presentation of competing fougères) is so hilariously out-of-step in the modern age of squares and understated masculinity, but that's why so many morbidly-curious guys stumble onto this and blind-buy it. I imagine hilarity ensues when what is expected to be a macho animalic musk monster is revealed to be the olfactive equivalent of Tiny Tim singing on an episode of Laugh-In. Fans of D'Orsay Etiquette Bleue (1908) and Fragonard Zizanie (1932) are likely to enjoy The Baron, as are fans of the powdery misadventures of men's Avon products like Blue Blazer (1964) or Lover Boy (1980). LTL (out of New York) resurrected The Baron in the 90's after Elizabeth Arden under the French Fragrances moniker bought Evyan in the late 80's (dropping everything but White Shoulders), but the scent hasn't seen remanufacture since before the first 2001 IFRA restriction of oakmoss. Stocks dry up and prices soar, then have sometimes dropped again when a new unsold stash is found somewhere, meaning this may or may not be a unicorn when you find it, but I wouldn't pursue unless you're hellbent on either powdery barbershop scents of yore or 60's nostalgia. I love this kind of stuff, but I wouldn't trust my opinion on this one if I were you unless you too have a weakness for the dandy style. Thumbs up.

I'm really into retro horror movies, and The Baron looks like it belongs in an old Hammer Productions or Vincient Price film. For me, the branding is very strong and was exactly what I needed in my collection. The font and the name are pure vintage Dracula.

I expected something like Royal Copenhagen or Hai Karate; a macho powdery, mid-century musk. What The Baron actually smells like is a blast of lavender and jasmine. The florals are very dominant and quite feminine compared to what I normally collect. The scent was probably weird for 1965 and it's even more weird today. Plenty of average dudes would think it smells like an old woman. But this is certainly NOT a cologne for average dudes; it's "for gentlemen", it says so right on the bottle! I'm sure the market for The Baron is men who collect and appreciate historic fragrances; those who spray for themselves rather than for others.

My normal go-to frags are very macho. But I also have a refined side, so I'm choosing to rock this one. I love the oddballs and ugly ducklings among the classics, and The Baron has much to appreciate. When I first put it on, there was something familiar about it that kept nagging at the back of my mind. The base is almost exactly like something in already had. Eventually I figured it out, it was Unilever's Brut Musk. The Baron has that same rubbery, grape-scented musk. It's the olfactory equivalent of the rough rayon fabric of the 70's, long since replaced by softer synthetic materials. It's also not so different from the base of Pinaud's Clubman Musk. Both these musk aftershaves would pair well with The Baron, as would Pinaud or Masters' versions of Lilac Vegetal.

Since I already have the Dracula association with The Baron, I see the scent as being quite "funereal". Beneath the florals is an odd, musty-smelling base, which to me mimics the character of a mortuary parlor. Others might see it as fresh and bright, but this is where my brain goes. I think it's a bit of a morbid scent. And since The Baron has literally come back from the dead after long being out of production, it does smell like something that doesn't belong in our time. To me, this only enhances its appeal.

If you're like me and you like digging up the past, The Baron is exactly what you need. Just don't expect other people to love this one. The Baron is for you. It's great for nights spent alone, watching beautiful old vampire movies.

Let's start with the positive. The base notes have a nice patchouli/oakmoss richness. Unfortunately, the cloying, sickly-sweet top notes linger all the way into the base, and I for one was tempted many times to scrub it off my skin before even getting there. But in the interest of fairness to the review I stuck it out. (I won't be wearing this again, though). The top notes are floral, sweet and heavy --- they'd even be an awful lot for a feminine fragrance. Calling this a masculine is just wrong.

Anybody remember the annoying fops on Saturday Night Live played by Mark McKinney and David Koechner? In their Restoration lace and knee breeches, powdered wigs and made-up faces, and an exaggerated parody of gentility, waving their lace hankies and batting their eyelashes as they gossip over the the latest courtly goings-on? Whoever "the Baron" is, I suspect he's a friend of theirs, because that's the image this treacly concoction most conjures up.