Vétiver Dry
Carven (1988)

Vétiver Dry by Carven (1988) is a good fragrance, but if you come looking for a vetiver-focused scent here, you will be disappointed. The original Vétiver by Carven (1957) is a greatly-missed vintage treasure, and from those fortunate enough to have some, alleged to be a fairly raw and unfettered take on vetiver, even more so somehow than the Guerlain Vetiver (1961) that would overshadow it in popularity. By the time 1988 rolled around, Carven was under Beecham management just like Jovan, and was popping up in chemists across the UK where Beecham was headquartered; a far cry from the glory days when movie stars and high society adorned themselves with Carven as they would Chanel or Patou. By this time, Carven's last masculine entry was a decade old, and times were a-changin' by 1988. Unfortunately, the "change" found in Vétiver Dry was not nearly enough, and the kind of fragrance feels more like it belonged in 1968, a decade Carven skipped over with men's releases, rather than alongside contemporaries like Davidoff Cool Water (1988) or Lapidus pour Homme by Ted Lapidus (1987).

That is to say, this is a very good dry, mossy, aromatic fougère in the vein of something like Monsieur Lanvin Vetiver (1964), which itself was something of a me-too chasing both Carven and Guerlain at the time, and was unique in that it would also be a bit of a vetiver-forward aromatic fougère, known more for its prominent mossy base than any sort of lifelike vetiver note. There is a reason you don't see to many vetiver-forward fougères, and it's because the sonorous nature of a strong vetiver tends to muddle into the more-delicate lavender/geranium/oakmoss structure of the usual fougère, coming across like an overly bass-boosted dance track that actually clips out all the singing and other higher-frequency sounds whenever the tub thumps. Here, Carven seems to try fixing that somewhat by making Vétiver Dry only tangentially a fougère in the way Ho Hang by Balenciaga (1971) was, being far more about the herbs and oakmoss than any floral components. In that sense, Vétiver Dry at least fills the not-yet-existing niche of "oakmoss obsessed vintage collector's vetiver", where the vetiver is a presage to a very heavy herbal coniferous oakmoss base that becomes what you smell after the first 30 minutes or so.

Now don't get me wrong, I do love me a big strong oakmoss or chewy herbal perfumes too, and I have a lifetime's supply of things like R de Capucci by Roberto Capucci (1987) or Caron Yatagan (1976) to prove it, but the last thing anyone expected from the house credited for the first mainstream vetiver fragrance in 1988 was a big herbal mossy monster fougère that feels more contemporaneous with something like Speidel's British Sterling (1965) than the namesake vetiver it was meant to be a drier take on, especially given vetiver is already dry as is. Point being is I do like this a lot, but it feels like an archival release tossed onto shelves to keep the Carven name on life support until Daniel Harlant (and eventually The Bogart Group) would take it off Beecham's hands. Now, most discontinued Carvens are extortionately expensive, and this one is still priced higher than I'd find comfortable for what it is, especially given that you can get things like the aforementioned R de Capucci for much less if a big discontinued moss monster is what you're after; yet you will also find that among the overpriced Carvens of yesteryear that survive in the collector's market, Vétiver Dry has among the lowest barriers of entry price wise. I guess people are still buying this and discovering by surprise that it isn't actually a drier vetiver scent. Thumbs up

Stardate 20180703:

First things first - This is not a dry fragrance and this is not a vetiver fragrance.

This is a cross between aromatic fougere and Eau de Cologne. Taking best from both worlds.
Lavendar, citrus, hint of vetiver, moss and some italian style cologne herbs. You can smell both Azzaro and 4711 in here.
The only issue I have with this is the longevity. It is more fleeting than traditional EDC. But for the first hour or so this is simply a masterpiece

Carven make one of the better known vetiver fragrances. It's been around since 1957 and has stood shoulder to shoulder over the years with the other ‘classic' vetivers that followed on its heels, namely Guerlain Vetiver (1961), Givenchy Vetyver (1959). Reformulations aside, these are Paris's masculine Big Three of from the era.

In 1988 Carven released a new fragrance called Vetiver Dry.  The name of the perfume denotes 1980s-styled overachieving sensibility. Vetiver itself, the botanical substance, is as dry as a bone, and typically keeps most vetiver compositions at the far end of the spectrum of dryness. The name, though. It's just two words, but they suggest something out of whack. Is it overachievement? Is its competitiveness? Is it simply a misunderstanding of the material? Maybe it's an ironic tautology, as in water is wet.

Unfortunately, smelling the perfume doesn't answer any of the questions. Vetiver Dry, despite the name, is an aromatic fougère. Oh, there's some vetiver in there. More's the pity, though. Vetiver and the fougère accord don't enhance each other, the point reinforced by the dearth of vetiver fougères available. 

The top notes are recognizable and are characteristically herbal/soapy in the fougère manner. But where the other late 80s aromatic Fougères seem bright, sharp, inventive, Vetiver Dry seems muddy and blurred. Whether or not it is the vetiver that muddies the perfume, Vetiver Dry feels like it was composed with a dull pencil.  

There's a struggle within this bottle, and it makes for a confusing progression. Conflicting notes vie for precedence, and the topnotes, though blurry, are strong. The dry-down is murky, suggestion the conflict of notes ends in an unsatisfying draw. But to reach drydown, there's no avoiding the heart notes, which are more unpleasant than vague, with a scent of rising dough that makes me want to open a window. 

There is a reason perfume wearers who ‘layer' perfumes have never suggested the combination of Drakkar Noir and Bois de Farine. Vetiver Dry serves as the cautionary tale.

A direct, straight-up vetiver greets me from the first second. Quite bright but with a touch of dark earthiness, with a herbal undertone without being a truly earthy vetiver. In the drydown at times impression of seaweed and spicy dried fruit are in the background, and a whiff of sandalwood too. This is more direct and somewhat rougher scent, much less smooth than the L'Artisan take on vetiver, and without even a hint of a Guerlainade-like elegance. Satisfactory development on my skin. Adequate silage and projection are combined with a longevity of nearly four hours on my skin. A very good take on vetiver; this one will be nice in spring.

The Baron de Charlus once told me: "Curiously enough, it was on a motoring tour of the Appalachian Mountains that i first encountered Carven Vetiver Dry, the rarely seen cousin of Carven Vetiver, at one or two removes.
Pausing for refreshment at a rundown store, apparently on the road to nowhere in particular, the owner, an elderly hillbilly with scarcely any teeth and faintly inbred attributes, made me the following proposition:
'Wellhyar'syersquirrelncolanahkinsellyersumpuntorelieveyersweatnstink. FellerleftacrateofthishyarVetiverDrymebbetwennyyargonebutnaryabodyroundhyarabouts'lltouchun. Figgermebbeyoubeinadoodyboyandfurrinwouldpreciatehermore. It'llhahdyersweatnstinknmebbepleasureyerdemoiselle. Yuhkinhevherferfowahdollar. Yuhkinsniffherfirstifyerinclined.'
'My dear sir,' I responded, inhaling deeply of the Carven Vetiver Dry, 'while I grant you that this scent does indeed improve on the aroma of squirrel and cola, I nevertheless feel that, compared to its far more distinguished cousin, Carven Vetiver, it is somewhat lacking. In spite of being called Vetiver Dry, it strikes me as altogether more bland, conventional and mellow than its illustrious cousin. Whilst the kinship is quite evident, what Carven Vetiver Dry lacks is the way that the acrid quality of Carven Vetiver matures to such a splendid note of pure distinction on the skin. Compared to that, Vetiver Dry, rather like your good self, seems slightly toothless and a trifle inbred, lacking that acrid, luxurious vigour. Nevertheless, I grant you that, compared to most of the perfumes that are being forced up our nostrils nowadays, Carven Vetiver Dry is a fine scent. I grant it my qualified approval.'
'Figgeredyuh'dlikeun. Thet'llbefowahdollar.'"

This is a very dry and mildly smoky rendition of vetiver. It smells nice although there are better vetivers out there (Grey Vetiver, Royall Vetiver for starters). Vetiver Dry is not as dependent on the vetiver note as these others, nor even Encre Noire. As others have noted, this has a fougere quality to it. The bottle is firmly in the old school masculine tradition and the price is reasonable. Sillage and longevity are modest.