Perfume Reviews by Varanis Ridari

Dolce Vita by Christian Dior

Dolce Vita by Christian Dior (1995) was a very important perfume for its creator, Pierre Bourdon, if not necessarily for the parent house of Christian Dior itself. Historically, this falls right in line with the burgeoning interest in gourmand perfumes, thanks to the success of Angel by Thierry Mugler (1992), and some will also say Bourdon was highly inspired by his work on Feminité du Bois by Shiseido (1992), a fragrance co-perfumer Christopher Sheldrake would then take with him to remake as a perfume for Serge Lutens in 2009, mostly the same as what he an Bourdon created for Shiseido under Luten's direction. It was always Bourdon's dream to make a perfume for Dior, as his father had worked for the company himself, and given nearly complete artistic freedom with only creative director Maurice Roger overhead, Dolce Vita is what he came up with for them.

Dolce Vita is somewhat similar to Feminité du Bois in that is shares a vanillic sandalwood underpinning with fruity notes up top. Feminité du Bois is far darker, with more of a rich plum wine accord in the heart surrounded by Turkish roses. Dolce Vita in contrast is sunnier, warmer, and more joyous in nature, like a day at the beach sipping on an Italian soda, if you will. Lactonic peach notes feel more classic than many things from this era, but this is only one foot in classic chypre structure, and one foot out; Bourdon places dry citruses alongside a spiced rose and muguet accord around a touch of then-modern osmanthus, which gives an apricot feeling we see often now, but not so much back then, and that mixes with and lessens the severity of the spices, which include cinnamon, rose, and clove. Overall, this is fruity, floral, woody, spicy, and soft.

Bourdon would revisit some of this again in Iris Poudre by Editions de Parfums Frédéric Malle (2000), especially the way classic florals surround modern woody fruity accords and are topped with soft citruses. This whole style was worlds away from the sharp, almost thirst-quenching use of melon accords and salty oceanic aromas that defined much of his output for other houses, including the prestigious Creed. If we put all the history and mythos aside for a second, Dolce Vita is a good perfume, but it is also not exciting, challenging, or divisive in the way Dior perfumes had been up until that point, which may be why it didn't sell super well and has fallen out of then back into production periodically. Smelled alongside other 1990's soft orientals with fruity floral leanings, Dolce Vita gets somewhat lost in the mix, even if I like it. Thumbs up

Mariella Burani by Mariella Burani

Mariella Burani by Mariella Burani (1992) is the debut perfume from an unlikely source: a schoolteacher turned fashionista who married the owner of Burani Garment Group - one Walter Burani - and turned her humble academic style into the vision of her fashion house, which served school children at first in the 1960's, then branched out into full women's wear lines by the 1990's. The debut perfume therefore comes rather late into the life of the house itself, which stopped making clothes by 2010 after Mariella's husband Walter and their son Giovanni were arrested for fraud concerning the bankruptcy and liquidation of the house. These days the name lives on as a "zombie house" fragrance license held by Sifarma Spa. I certainly can't ding Mariella Burani for quality, even if the originality here leaves something to be desired.

Mariella Burani is a well-built floral aldehyde chypre, being somewhat staid and classical by the standards of 1992. It was clear that this was built for older women, much as White Diamonds by Elizabeth Taylor (1991) was; this is a commanding, serious grown-up women's perfume with no teasing or fooling around to be found. The opening is very fruity with aldehydes mashing against violet, rose, and jasmine, coupled with tarragon and soft lemon that folds into buttery ylang juxtaposed with powdery iris. The development through to the base gets far more oriental, with sandalwood, benzoin, patchouli, amber, and contrasting clean/dirty tones with the musk choices. The dry down reminds me most of Avon Millenia (1997), for my own personal point of reference.

Mariella Burani worked with Mark Buxton quite a few times, alongside Jean Jacques later on, although he is not technically signed to this perfume specifically. What is known about Mariella Burani is that it saw a recomposition and relaunch 30 years later as Burani Classic by Mariella Burani (2023), when Sifarma Spa started making more perfumes to capitalize on their license. I don't know how much that newer version is like this original, but there's that tidbit for those curious about the house. All told, Mariella Burani was huge in Italy but never made a big splash outside of her home country, which is the same song and dance for many Italian houses, especially regarding their perfumes. This is nice, but if you were shopping women's fragrance in the late 1980's and early 1990's, you've already smelled something like it. Thumbs up

Stronger With You Powerfully by Giorgio Armani

Stronger With You Powerfully by Emporio Armani (2026) is somehow bigger, sweeter, fruitier, and even more gourmand than the most recent entries into the line. In this nuclear arms race of who can produce the most annoyingly-extroverted and juvenile gag sauce, Emporio Armani has set its sights on overthrowing long-reigning champion Paco Rabanne, and with this they just might have. I just wish this whole thing would crash out already so we could do something different.

The trend-chasing cherry note is here, although thankfully brief as it is replaced by the usual ambery lavender core the line favors, sans the violet appearing in the original because that would harm the sweetness. In place of that violet, we have some sweet spices like cinnamon and nutmeg, mixed with ample vanilla and the bubblegum opening salvo, before settling into the usual woody amber materials in the base. The performance is too much, so go lightly.

Yeah this is insanely sweet, big and fruity nonsense, complete and total TikTok looksmaxxing teen bait, the kind of thing your spoiled iPad baby tween will cry for until you buy it, love for a month, then toss in the closet when something even "better" comes out and the cycle starts all over, relegating this to your own unwanted night out scent, unless you manage to slide it over to a co-worker or something; this is tolerable enough to avoid a thumbs down. Neutral

Forever Wanted Absolu by Azzaro

Forever Wanted Absolu by Azzaro (2026) is not interesting, but also not harmful in any way. It's another big sweet gourmand thing, tailored with incense and mineral notes, boozy stuff, and the usual mishmash of masculine "sexiness", or what passes for it in the 2020's. Again, nothing unexpected; nothing out of order here, just big sweet and boozy-boring gourmand sillage to compete against the countless Gaultier and Paco Rabanne releases that dominate this market. I'm going to forget about how this smells the moment I wash this stuff off.

The problem here with Forever Wanted, is that L'Oréal is cannibalizing its own sales after reforming the Azzaro masculine line-up to be yet another sweet ambery tonka-dripping mish mash, like Emporio Armani, Valentino, and Yves Saint Laurent all pumping out the same swill. I guess one way or another, they're gonna get your money; this is what monopolies look like in practice, giving you the illusion of choice, but that isn't the fragrance's fault. This is still just unremarkable, but not poorly made. Performance is "don't worry about it".

What's really weird is we're going in circles with naming, because after "elixir", there was nowhere left to go; so now we've doubled back to "absolu", when that term was last-decade's strongest flavor of anything in the men's market, when we really should have just stopped. This is what a creative dearth in the segment looks like: endless flankers-of-flankers, going in circles with concentrations from parfum to absolu and then elixir, only to go back to absolu again. Forever Wanted is more like the manifestation of the "doom loop" in fragrance form. Neutral

Luna Rossa Carbon by Prada

Luna Rossa Carbon Eau de Parfum by Prada (2026) is pretty standard fare, and nothing groundbreaking nor terribly bad. At least L'Oréal had the sense to bring back original "unofficial" Prada house pefumer Daniela Andrier, who had made everything for Prada under Puig and had a unifying theme for every release utilizing Miuccia Prada's favorite notes of amber and iris. When L'Oréal took over the license for Prada from Puig while Miuccia focused on her premium label Miu Miu, they ditched Daniela in favor of oil house perfumers that competed for briefs based on their market successes (Anne Flipo and Carlos Benaim in this case), in the most banal, soulless corporate profit-optimized way possible, leading to a litany of lifeless Prada Luna Rossa Ocean (2021) flankers, among other things.

Being the first Prada Luna Rossa flanker in a long time that feels like it belongs in the line. Carbon Eau de Parfum simply isn't a stronger take on the original competitor to Dior Sauvage (2015), but rather an in-between of sorts that places itself halfway from the original Prada Luna Rossa Carbon (2017) and Prada Luna Rossa Black (2018), with some soft plush tones that recall other Prada masculines, arguably tying in this Luna Rossa closer to Prada's house aesthetic than even the 2012 flagship scent. Soft lavender and anise mix with some of the thick ambery tonka of Luna Rossa Black, also adjacent to L'Oréal's own Armani Code by Giorgio Armani (2004), a black-tie formal scent structure the conglomerate has spend two decades perfecting by this point. Luna Rossa Carbon Eau de Parfum is another one of those, but a good one.

If you're a longtime enjoyer or collector of the line, you don't need Carbon Eau de Parfum, as it will feel redundant next to Luna Rossa Black, so much that I worry L'Oréal may try to replace the latter with the former at some point; I hope they don't because Luna Rossa Black is my preferred presentation of their "black tie" style that they've snuck into one range or another over the decades, not much liking the original take found in Code, or any subsequent flankers of it. Even before L'Oréal there was Avon literally being the origin of the species with their Avon Intrigue (2001), which is such a deep cut it almost doesn't matter. But, if you're someone who uses Carbon and only Carbon from the Luna Rossa Range, then the Eau de Parfum version may have a home in your wardrobe as a plush night-time alternative to the workhorse scent. Thumbs up

Polo Red Extreme (2025 version) by Ralph Lauren

Polo Red Extreme by Ralph Lauren (2025) is not a re-issue of the original 2017 fragrance, so those who have come to worship that scent due to YouTuber hype or "grail chasing" will be disappointed here. In fact, many may be disappointed by the new Polo Red Extreme, as it doesn't follow much of the Polo Red by Ralph Lauren (2013) convention at all, feeling less like a flanker, and more like a unique scent they just wanted to tie into a pre-existing line so as not to waste R&D. Now, I only say "unique" in regards to Ralph Lauren, as this is really more of a kissing cousin to another stablemate in the world-devouring panoply of corporate parent L'Oréal; and in this case particularly, I am referring to Luna Rossa Ocean Le Parfum by Prada (2024). This isn't identical to Ocean Le Parfum, but it does feel wrought from the same exercise.

For those who haven't smelled Ocean Le Parfum, it is a rather sweet and spicy cinnamon amber scent that has literally screw-all to do with any other member of the Prada Luna Rossa Ocean (2021) range; I liked Ocean Le Parfum, despite thinking its vastly over-priced and too much like a half-dozen other things I own, and I also to a degree like Polo Red Extreme 2025, but markedly less. The big thing with this, and the clear reason why it might have been a rejected mod from the Luna Rossa Ocean Le Parfum brief, is it goes very heavy into this smoky suede accord layered thickly with vanilla and patchouli. There is still that spicy cinnamon and ambery goodness, but this big sweet smoky leathery thing under that vanilla glaze and some sharp ginger just comes across as a bit too much.

An absolute beast on paper, and mildly less weapons-grade on skin, this is extreme in ways the original 2017 scent could never hope to be, as evidenced by the weirdly 2000's-nostalgic X-Games logotype on the bottle. For me personally, I wouldn't wear something like this, fighting in the same overstuffed-elixir-type space as Bleu de Chanel L'Exclusif Chanel (2025) or Dior Sauvage Elixir (2021). All of these ultra-dense masculine-market fragrances have one glaring flaw in them, and it's that with all the synthetic sweet, spice, heavy woody-amber and vanilla accords blurring into slurries of brown in the base, they end up smelling like "cologne smell" the same way; the modern equivalent of an elevator after six different guys all juiced up on the way out from the office. Neutral

Polo Red Extreme by Ralph Lauren

Polo Red Extreme by Ralph Lauren (2017) is a bit of a "unicorn" these days. because as a flanker to the original Polo Red by Ralph Lauren (2013) it wasn't terribly special, outside being stronger or more "intense" in key ways that at the time, were thought to give the 'beastmode boys" of the 2010's what they wanted. As it turns out, this wasn't much different from Polo Red Intense by Ralph Lauren (2015), and the whole Polo Red line was just sort of "there" compared to some other more-successful contemporaries. Eventually there was a slow growth in interest of the original Polo Red, and by decade's end, Polo Red was banging on all cylinders much like the best-selling Polo Blue by Ralph Lauren (2002) line, it just took some time to get there.

I was not terribly kind to Polo Red upon release, and found it to be an odd me-too chasing the sheer aldehydes and tropical fruit over dry wood of Amyris Homme by Maison Francis Kurkdjian (2012). It would seem that fragrance was deconstructed and modified into a number of popular tropes the same way Gucci Guilty for Men (2011) was, with Polo Red's "cranberry, sage, and coffee" being one of those angles. Polo Red Intense beefed up the accord with leather, pine, and amber, while Polo Red Extreme would double down on the gourmand thickness of the overall profile, veering away from versatile, if somewhat grating freshness the others had. Halloween Man X by J Del Pozo (2019) became the "poor man's version" once this was discontinued along with Intense, for reference.

So the verdict it... this isn't terrible. I didn't think the original was terrible either, but Montblanc perfected this style with Montblanc Legend Red (2022) for those who don't want to break the bank on an MFK; or if you can find a bottle of the limited edition Canyon by Bath & Body Works (2019) for a non-painful price, it'll also do. Here with the discontinued Polo Red Extreme, you just have a thicker and sweeter iteration of the entire start citrus/berries over dry woods "thing", made a tad darker and more woodyamber in a way that is also a bit more grating to me, but waiting for the dry down long enough and it feels a bit more pleasantly like synth-oud or guaiac wood proxy of some sort. Patience rewards with a nice dry down, but there are nicer, and certainly this isn't worth hunting at "unicorn" prices. Neutral

Habit Rouge L'Eau by Guerlain

Habit Rouge L'Eau by Guerlain (2011) was the longer-lasting of the "light" flankers made for Habit Rouge by Guerlain (1965) in the post-2000 era. The previous one was the last Habit Rouge iteration Jean-Paul Guerlain ever worked on, and was a limited distribution release called Habit Rouge Eau de Toilette Légere by Guerlain (2005), pulled from a rejected submission for his 80's eau de toilette upgrade of the original 60's cologne in favor of one that smelled closer to the structure of that original cologne. Jean-Paul hated the original work and wanted to improve it, but when it was decided to do concentration bumps, the formula becoming "Légere" in later years was rejected by then-evaluator Anne-Marie Saget. Fast forward to 2011, and Sylvaine Delacourt was the evaluator, and gave perfumer Thierry Wasser a clean sheet to do his own "light" version of Habit Rouge.

In response, Wasser tied in Habit Rouge L'Eau somewhat to the structure of his previous Habit Rouge Sport by Guerlain (2009), although without as extreme of a deviation from the original Habit Rouge structure. Like Sport, L'Eau uses a more-modern mix of bitter orange and lime, but dispenses with any rhubarb or sharp woody notes in favor of the original Habit Rouge's oriental-leaning softness. The heart of jasmine and neroli is mostly unique to L'Eau, and no rose or the usual fusty combinations of carnation, cinnamon, and basil that really "date" Habit Rouge for contemporary noses not used to classic French perfumery. In their place, we see a gourmand touch of hazelnut, and added vanilla like what was found in Jean-Paul's "Légere". Performance is middling, but what did you expect for a "L'Eau"? Don't answer that.

So as a truly lighter and more modern interpretation of the classic Habit Rouge structure, this succeeds better than the past-regret that was Jean-Paul's "Légere"; that alongside several "La Parisiennes" were his unfinished business as the last Guerlain perfumer before LVMH fully dispensed with heredity, and is more for collectors. L'Eau by contrast is very much functional in the sense it understands the assignment because it was built for it, rather than being fashioned from aborted past work. As a fragrance on its own, Habit Rouge L'Eau exists in an uncanny valley between old and new schools of perfume thought, so it lasted longer on the market, but also ended production with the "woodcap" phase ending in the 2020's. A pleasant, light oriental-spiced citrus is this, with wisps of Guerlinade. Thumbs up.

Santal Royal by Guerlain

Santal Royal by Guerlain (2014) is the most popular entry in the retired Les Absolus d'Orient range, but I also feel it may suffer from the greatest misunderstanding because of it, too. There are seemingly two types of opinions about this online, and that's Santal Royal is a beautiful Western rose-saffron-oud treasure that competes with the best of the West, or it's the worst and most pointless synthetic attempt at sandalwood ever conceived, which doesn't even smell like Mysore sandalwood oil. Neither of these opinions really hit on what Santal Royal actually is, which is why I say this fragrance may be grossly misunderstood, despite its seeming popularity. This stuff was made into hair care by Guerlain (a rare move from this line), and even had a proper extrait de parfum, showing just how popular Santal Royal got against the backdrop of all the other Les Absolus d'Orient releases; one might even say Santal Royal carried the financial weight of the line on its shoulders.

When I first caught whiff of Santal Royal, I immediately thought of things like Égoïste by Chanel (1990) and its classic inspiration Bois des Îles by Chanel (1926), plus Guerlain's own Samsara (1989) to a lesser extent. All these perfumes blend a sandalwood note (real or synthetic, depending on year) with a dark cinnamon rose note and some sort of amber or ambery musk, incense, and a bit of vanilla. Samsara has the biggest, most noticeable Mysore sandalwood note in its earliest forms compared to either Chanel, but Santal Royal has more linkage to them than its own elder house-mate because of the similarity in execution of that cinnamon-rose tandem, followed by the muskiness of the base. What Santal Royal does differently than the Chanels is staple a synthetic oud note and some sour tannery leather onto that, along with saffron and a slightly more-animalic musk profile to make it fit the Persian Gulf perfume theme. Performance is outstanding, as expected.

This Égoïste by-way-of-Dubai feels similar enough to the later Santal Noir by DIor (2018) that I suspect François Demachy from pinching Thierry Wasser's the way he seemingly did turning Cologne du Parfumeur by Guerlain (2010) into Dior Homme Cologne (2013) and Guerlain Homme L'Eau Boisée (2012) into Dior Homme (2020). Here, we see the spiced rose potpourri usually loved by male enthusiasts of vintage colognes like Égoïste rejected by them, because the added richness from the oriental bits tacked on gives the impression of Santal Royal being more feminine, even though there is more smoke and wood from the oud material running through it. Santal Royal is not so far and away different from Arabians by Montale (2017), except there is a lavender and patchouli twist in Arabians that makes it feel a bit more arbitrarily masculine to most. Santal Royal is really complex, long-lasting, and enjoyable, but clearly confusing to behold. Thumbs up

Red Lilac by Lenthéric

Red Lilac by Lenthéric (1958) is very similar to Trailing Arbutus by Avon (1916), at least in its original form and not the 1979 remake. Lenthéric itself was a relatively downmarket brand started by a French hairdresser ultimately bought by UK cosmetics firm, making it both French and English for most of its existence, selling in high street markets and drug stores. In America, Lenthéric competed against domestic brands the same way Bourjois did, with less success due to pesky import prices, being higher end within that market segment. The "Bouquet Lenthéric" line to which Red Lilac belonged was focused on traditional floral bouquet fragrances - if the name wasn't evident - and veered more conservative than big aldehyde florals and orientals popular in the mid-century.

Red Lilac is simple, almost dead-simple, focusing on a lilac accord submerged in muguet and hawthorne, the latter two being key materials of the original Trailing Arbutus. Likewise, a soapy musky accord underpins Red Lilac, and the only thing that really has me telling the two apart is that extra lilac note floating through the white florals and musk choices. There isn't much more to Red Lilac than that, and the performance is pretty slight, giving me the impression that this stuff was just meant to be a refresher and not something a lady of the day wore for an all-day scent bubble; possibly just long enough to get some shopping done, or to entertain company. Either way, Red Lilac is nice and simple, clean and perfectly capable of being what it is; a floral bouquet for the skin.

Things like Pink Party by Lenthéric (1940) and Muguet by Lenthéric (1939) and other older, simpler florals would also be redressed as part of the "Bouquet Lenthéric" range in time as well, although it isn't sure when they would drop this and just change the bottles again to the pinched-waist type we would see by the 1970's. Red Lilac would never live to see that era arrive, but it was common for Lenthéric to discontinue, modify, and re-introduce compositions under new names anyway, a practice many drugstore and common high-street brands of the day did, including Coty. Red Lilac is nice, but unless you're particularly a collector of vintage Lenthéric perfumes, it isn't something I'd seek down and pay any appreciable money for; as a cheapie for fans of simple white flowers. you could do far worse. Thumbs up

Vanderbilt by Gloria Vanderbilt

Vanderbilt by Gloria Vanderbilt (1982) is a composition by Sophia Grojsman that debuts her famous "hug me" accord of soft, plush musks and white florals. Above all things, this accord as first found in Vanderbilt not only introduced the soft, creamy, and clean floral style that made Vanderbilt itself tremendously popular, but in exceedingly larger doses would come to define much of Grojsman's work herself, culminating in being 60% of the formula for the landmark Trésor by Lancôme (1990). For the nerds, this is almost equal amounts of Iso E Super, Hedione, Galaxolide, and Methyl Ionone Gamma, although Galaxolide is slated for severe restriction soon, so the "hug me" accord as a result may go the way of Mousse de Saxe. In any case, Gloria Vanderbilt herself was a wealthy heiress to the Vanderbilt fortune, artist, and mother of news anchor Anderson Cooper, which is basically all you really need to know in relation to this perfume.

Gloria used her fortune to create a sort of brand empire for a time, through a company called GV Ltd. and it is through this company that she signed a deal with Warner Cosmetics to create perfumes for her brand, starting with this one in 1982, and through until L'Oréal took over in 2002. Vanderbilt in its original formulation is a very rich aldehydic floral with a prominent sweet pineapple top, thick ylang-ylang buttered jasmine and carnation center, over a dense oriental base full of sandalwood, vanilla, opoponax, and civet. The "hug me" accord of synthetic musks and boosters is slight, but weaves between all the redolence to tweak the detectable levels of the jasmine, the ylang, tuberose, and vanila, downplaying the civet with its clean contrast. Oscar by Oscar de La Renta (1977) is a contemporary of this the way it was Grojsman's previous work in White Linen by Estée Lauder (1978); Vanderbilt by comparison is just a little more sheer, and modern in style.

White Diamonds by Elizabeth Taylor (1991) would be like a love letter to Vanderbilt, and considering Elizabeth traveled in the same celebrity socialite circles, it's unsurprising; and by the time White Diamonds came out this whole big sweet white floral style was fast becoming for mature career women, which Vanderbilt (the brand) realized and acted upon by continuing to push forward with new releases. The big thing is that in the 1980's, Vanderbilt (the scent) was very much for teen girls, as my older sister fell in love with this when she was in middle and high school, then kept wearing it throughout her adult life, telling me that her and just about three dozen other classmates all choked out the classrooms with wearing it simultaneously. Perhaps this teenage oversaturation is why Vanderbilt's debut fragrance ultimately became a cheap drugstore thrill despite the pedigree of the name, but it still smells fantastic regardless. Thumbs up

Devotion pour Homme by Dolce & Gabbana

Devotion pour Homme Parfum by Dolce & Gabbana (2025) is a little sweeter, a little more ambery, and a little less interesting than the eau de parfum released just before it earlier in 2025. I found that one quite good, with a little mix between coffee, barbershop fougère, and dry gourmand. By adding some vanilla, amber, and sage to the mix, the fougère elements still persevere well enough, but everything just becomes a little more generic in exchange for the added coziness the eau de parfum already had; I guess we aren't long for an elixir.

Devotion pour Homme in its Parfum variation still doesn't quite smell like anything contemporary, and I applaud Olivier Cresp for that; he really fixates around this sort of 90's sage-dominant fresh fougère style that we see in fragrances from the period like Pleasures for Men by Estée Lauder (1997). then layers in the more-contemporary amber, vanilla, and coffee notes to bring the whole thing up to a level that feels relevant to modern men seeking something clean, classy, albeit nondescript. Performance is at least good, for those who care.

The original Eau de Parfum had the lavender playing with lemon, clove, and a sharp patchouli under the coffee and tonka, without much noticeable clary sage and no amber that I could detect. I thought it was quite a stark and confrontational opening with the coffee front and center, but after it mellowed out, the Eau de Parfum became quite cozy. Here, we have that coziness greet us up front, then the fragrance settles into creamy lilting tones of beige and off-white, becoming elevator music for the nose, but at uncomfortable volumes. Neutral

Violetta by Santa Maria Novella

Violetta by Santa Maria Novella (1980) is actually a perfume that's been around for centuries in their portfolio, with no exact date of production start known, as they've continuously refined and changed more like alchemy, with no concrete formula to reference, as many family perfumers did until the advent of modern chemistry. Thus, I can only supply the date from which the last known formula started, which was around 1980, which was assisted by the use of modern ionones and violet leaf absolutes to create its soliflore parma violet smell.

To get right down to business, this smells exactly like parma violets, as in the flowers and not the candies based on their smell. You get that light, airy floral nuance of true violet, assisted by jasmine hedione and notes of both lilac and ylang. There is something bright an aldehydic here, then the violet dominates with a slight dry rose ketone underpinning, assisted with more ionones that imitate iris. The base slightly green, woody, and smoothed with a pinch of vanilla, with a bit of noticeable oakmoss and cedarwood. Performance is light but persistent.

Sadly, the recent acquisition by private investment has gutted many historical classics from the catalog, and Violetta is no more. The good news is violet happens to be such a popular floral subject that you can trip over all the various soliflore takes on parma violet that exist, with entries under $50 going all the way up to nosebleed prices for vintage Violetta de Parma by Borsari 1870 (1870) approaching $500. So with enough keyboard hunting, you can find something comparable, even if not identical, from a classic house that makes soliflores. I'd personally grab the Molinard one and be done with it. Thumbs up

CH Men Privé by Carolina Herrera

CH Men Privé by Carolina Herrera (2015) rode a wave of popularity caused by influencer Jeremy Fragrance and his love for La Nuit de L'Homme by Yves Saint Laurent (2009). Built mainly upon the foundation of CH Men by Carolina Herrera (2009), this Privé version is sweeter, a bit spicier, and rounder, while containing some of the low-key dusty and green aspects of the original CH Men. This extra roundness, sweetness, and a stronger lavender are what links CH Men Privé to La Nuit de L'Homme, and I guess it did well for a while, until it didn't. Like a lot of things riding a wave, CH Men Privé came to an end once the zeitgeist that created it was over, and with Jeremy's descent into self-parody, folks moved on from things that smelled like his favorite fragrances, unless they were already tremendously popular beforehand.

The opening for this is spicy and sweet, but with a certain powdery quality that hearkens back a bit to Prada Luna Rossa (2012), minus the mint. The cardamom and the lavender with the grapefruit will reminds most of La Nuit de L'Homme at the early stage, but CH Men Privé goes more into gourmand territory with the heart, mixing boozy notes with more edible spices, until the sweetened tonka tobacco (aka "tonkabacco") bases things out with a bit of sour leather and clary sage a la Versace the Dreamer (1997) minus any big soapy florals. One thing CH Men Privé does have in common with The Dreamer are big musks, though. Performance is good enough, and I mean it had ought to be with this having a premium price tag over the normal CH Men, even before it was discontinued. Ralph's Club by Ralph Lauren (2021) would supersede this.

Performance is good enough, and this always reminded me of a clubber trying to be more sophisticated than it really is; most people who used this probably couldn't tell the difference between a club with overpriced cocktails and a restaurant anyway, since CH Men Privé by Carolina Herrera was aimed at the upwardly mobile post-grad who was drowned in "alpha male" internet culture and self-help gurus too busy teaching them how to "fake it until they make it". The types of pathologically validation-obsessed need to feel both among the crowd to seem cool, but also above the crowd to seem superior, to show they're "winning", so I guess they don't mind overpaying for discontinued bottles of this, too. La Nuit de L'Homme is still out there, and in pretty good shape, so just stick to that. Neutral

Uomo La Notte by Roberto Cavalli

Uomo La Notte by Roberto Cavalli (2018) has an unfortunate association to the discontinued and sought-after CH Men Privé by Carolina Herrera (2016), and being discontinued itself, means prices for it are likewise going to be completely unreasonable for what this is. CH Men Privé was a product of late-stage hype for La Nuit de L'Homme by Yves Saint Laurent (2009) created by perfume influencer Jeremy Fragrance, and as one of the scents he often championed in his many videos before launching his own line, La Nuit de L'Homme sudden viral surge in interest created a response from competing brands to introduce their own takes on the structure. Jacques Bogart delivered with Santana Bay by Jacques Bogart (2018), and lil' old Roberto Cavalli - a much abused fragrance license held by Coty - waded into the arena with this fragrance. Had Coty not been so insistent on grinding through so many samey flankers for Cavalli, more people might have gotten into this.

What separates Uomo La Notte from CH Men Privé, Santana Bay, or even the original La Nuit de L'Homme is how much better blended it seems than them; Christophe Reynaud is one of the original architects of 1 Million by Paco Rabanne (2008), so he knows his way around a sweet, rich clubber-style fragrance, and he knows that the way to make these work best is to not show any seams in the usually-heady materials of choice. This opens with a similar sweet citrus and dusty spice over lavender and clary sage, but there is a bit of violet and neroli here too to add a slight fruity nuance that helps it bond better with the dusty cardamom, clary sage, and woody-amber materials. The black pepper adds a perfect counterweight to the thick tonka and patchouli, while vanilla polishes off the edges. Performance isn't booming, so maybe not a true clubber in that regard, but La Notte lasts all day on skin. For me La Notte is more of a fall-winter kind of smell.

At the end of the day, this is actually a flanker to Uomo by Roberto Cavalli (2016), a sort of woody-boozy lavender oriental that feels like a pastiche of very Armani Code by Giorgio Armani (2004) flanker and its imitators run through a simulator to find the most coterminous pieces, then having those pieces stitched together into a separate fragrance. While Uomo by Roberto Cavalli feels literally two steps forward (and one step back) from a Bath & Body Works fragrance, the La Notte flanker elevates the composition just a little more by being leathery, sweeter in just the right ways, richer in ways that help it feel more expensive (even though it originally wasn't), and just plain better. While still not anything revolutionary Uomo La Notte could have at least been a decent starter, until the usual FragBro lemmings heard it was similar to CH Men Privé and began their quest to own 13,755 backups of it (each), until the price was basically the same. Thumbs up

La Panthère by Cartier

La Panthère by Cartier (2014) is the rebirth of the original Panthère de Cartier (1987), composed by house perfumer Mathilde Laurent in place of the original's Alberto Morillas. Cartier labels this as a "modern chypre", so they concede it won't be exactly like what it replaced, a perfume that had been years discontinued by this point anyway, and only the few die-hards clutching survivor bottles and texting their bitter consternation into the void of the internet caring about it one way or the other. For everyone else, this is a bit old-fashioned but also a bit new; a pretty exercise in gardenia, rose, and tart fruits over a thinned oakmoss-ish base. I like it, but I also wouldn't reach for it or seek it out, as I have things which do what this does already.

In the vague, this feels like a modernized, more sheer take on Animale by Animale (1987), with similar tart fruity notes up top, with citrus, anise, something like rhubarb, and then the gardenia mixed with rose in the base. The ylang-ylang rounds things here, with a bit of neroli and muguet, while the base dries up some of the sweetness with a sour leather note from classic isobutyl quinoline, bitter oakmoss and patchouli. There is a swirl of synthetics things here, aldehydes and iso E super, to fill in the empty spaces that the forbidden doses of chypre's most prized materials once occupied, but that's okay. This still smells nice, and anyone coming at it angry that it isn't an academic exercise in classic chypre form would seem silly for not reading the whole "modern" part about the perfume's market copy.

The old one was supposedly very dense and full of all sorts; things like carnation, spices like mace, and a litany of other florals, aromatics, and musk choices. Alberto Morillas in his pre-Armani days before he struck it big with aquatics made quite some lush, full chypres for Rochas, Cartier, and a dozen others, alongside now-forgotten men's powerhouses for Puig, Cofci (now Cofinluxe), and others. I can't imagine Mathilde Laurent having any direct interaction with Alberto Morillas because he's an in-house perfumer with a private supply chain and he's strictly a Firmenich perfumer, so this is a case where she had the original Panthère de Cartier to observe, then likely used her nose and a bit of science to make her own. Nicely done, and a full decade before the similar Barénia by Hermès (2024). Thumbs up

Acqua di Giò Eau de Parfum Intense by Giorgio Armani

Acqua di Giò Eau de Parfum Intense by Giorgio Armani (2026) is really just a relaunch of Acqua di Giò Absolu by Giorgio Armani (2018), full stop. Nothing else more needs be said if you are familiar with this line and its history, and if you are not, then a brief recap of Acqua di Giò Absolu is in order. The original nomenclature of flankers per their concentration that was in use by the time the original 2018 version was released were as follows: Essenza as the "eau de parfum", up from the original 1996 eau de toilette; Profumo as the original "parfum", up from the 2012 Essenza; and then Absolu as a sweeter, richer, range-topper up from Profumo. The original Absolu was highly controversial as it was the first flanker to vastly deviate from the original "DNA" that perfumers Alberto Morillas, Jacques Cavallier-Belletrud, penned in the 1990's, seemingly caving to the increased sweetness prevalent in fresh men's fragrances as ushered in by Gucci, Paco Rabanne, and Versace. Personally I like this, because it's still a nice balance of sweet and fresh, but the rename-and-rehash is a bit tiring.

The original Absolu was often compared to Paco Rabanne Invictus (2013) in particular, and I can see the resemblance, but always felt Acqua di Giò Absolu was way more sophisticated and mature with its focus on wood and spice in the base over that waxy olive and ambergris musk accord Invictus had buried under all the bay, juniper, and ethyl maltol. Acqua di Giò Eau de Parfum Intense is a second coming of Absolu, but ditching the amber liquid and wood cap in favor of the black to clear gradient introduced with the 2024 packaging refresh of the Acqua di Giò Eau de Parfum by Giorgio Armani (2023) release; people say that package change made a composition difference too, but I don't see it. In this case, the package and name change do introduce some tweaks like when Profumo became Parfum in 2023; namely we see the spices and herbs from Absolu go away in favor of more fruit and marine nuance, a sweeter opening that lasts into the dry down, and a finish more in line with the many "aqua" variants of Invictus; most casual fans of Absolu won't even notice any real change.

What this means for the layman who has never smelled Acqua di Giò Absolu or Invictus by Paco Rabanne is you get the very familiar "fruity bubblegum showergel" smell that you have already smelled dozens of times wafting off the collars of young men or teens, but with more polish than the Valentino, Herrera, or Paco Rabanne entries that dominate this space. With the wood and spice elements gone from the original Absolu blueprint in this Eau de Parfum Intense retread, this feels "younger", and by virtue of marketing it as an "intense" flanker, I imagine that the intended market are those 16-24 year olds who want something loud and mating-callish, but with the black tie aesthetic Armani brings to the table. If you loved Absolu and didn't stock up before the rug-pull, this is your chance to have the next-best thing. This brings the line full-circle, with only the Acqua di Giò Profondo by Giorgio Armani (2020) side-range remaining, and the compulsory Elixir being the only meaningful addition in six years; I just wish for something actually new if they're to release anything bearing new names. Thumbs up

Version Originale by Jean-Marc Sinan

Version Originale by Jean-Marc Sinan (1984) is as rare as they come among the vintage men's fragrance enthusiast. Like Patou pour Homme (1980) or Gucci Nobile (1988), this one sells for grotesque amounts of money in second-hand online markets, although the reason for it is markedly different from the others. The story of Jean-Marc is a strange one; he's a man that has worked menial labor jobs in between big breaks in artistic success, walking away at the height of his fashion house's success, only to start again in a different creative field. From homeless to intern at Christian Dior, mine worker to florist, and fashion designer to painter and architect, the constant fluctuation of Jean-Marc Sinan from rags to riches, to rags and then riches again is mind-boggling. The smell itself is big, a bit all over the place, and very hard to properly peg.

Version Originale reads in part like a love letter to the citrus floral chypres men wore in the mid-century, when fougères were on the back-burner from years of downmarket oversaturation thanks to the smell becoming popular with shaving lines. Like fragrances such as 40 Love by Jean Despres (1947) and Moustache by Rochas (1949), there is a lot of sour citrus and civet musk wailing around with dandy florals, although V.O. (as it's sometimes referred to) features more rose than many, making it closer to something like Monsieur Lanvin (1964) than anything, or perhaps the civet rose jasmine combo of Aramis 900 (1973). Either way, this bridges the patchouli-forward rose chypres for men that hit the shelves around this time - fragrances like Boss by Hugo Boss (1984) or Moods Uomo by Krizia (1989) - with those older and skankier tropes.

Combine the thin, pallid gentleman of the Victorian Age with the extroversion of a 1980's yuppie, and you're really close to getting the "vibe" of V.O. and a handful of other things sprinkled throughout the decade as well, like Salvador Dali pour Homme (1987); then there's the rarity. Simply put, this fragrance is so rare because in 1990 Jean-Marc purchased all available stock he could of everything his house had released, just to crush it with a bulldozer and walk away from fashion world forever, moving onto sculpting, painting, and religious study. Today you can find galleries of Jean-Marc's work (which he has also destroyed then re-created), and even a restaurant. Whatever escaped his summary buy-back and destruction is all there remains. V.O. isn't unique, but its kitchen sink style that references the past is very big, and tasty. Thumbs up

Davidoff Indigo by Davidoff

Indigo by Davidoff (2025) is a travel-exclusive that most haven't heard of, reusing the Davidoff Hot Water (2009) bottle design, but placing a blue juice within. By now most rightly assume that Coty runs Davidoff into the ground much the same way they have done Calvin Klein, as they shed designer clients to other cosmetics conglomerates like L'Oréal or manufacturers of toiletries like Interparfums. It's been a rough decade over at the House of Coty, but every so often a diamond emerges from that rough; Indigo might just be that diamond.

First thing's first, this isn't some massively artful or innovative fragrance, but rather just a well-made modern fresh scent that marries some of the aquatic legacy found in Davidoff Cool Water (1988) with some of the lingering "bubblegum showergel" aesthetics wrought upon us by Paco Rabanne Invictus (2013), tamped way down and spliced with a bit of the modern "sandalwood" we see in many things. There is a bit of metallic minty lavender vibe to boot, bringing in some legacy 1990's fougères, and performance is just enough to pass muster.

This one lives in discounters already, and serves as a left-of-center quirky grab for a gym or office fragrance, marrying something old, with something less old, and something new; I can see Indigo bridging a few generations of men together into wearing the same bottle, and this therefore has some "father and son" potential if your father is Gen-X and you're a Gen-Z guy starting out in his career (assuming AI hasn't taken it by now and left you with the "gig economy"). Plain, simple, well-made but not exciting in any way, Indigo is a pleasant surprise, even if nothing else. Thumbs up

Adolfo for Men by Frances Denney

Adolfo for Men by Frances Denney (1981) is a very instantly oily, woody, and coniferous scent, to be sure. This is a huge green chypre, right in the same vein as Polo by Ralph Lauren (1978) and Yatagan by Caron (1974), with the big grassy tones of something like Devin by Aramis (1978) and castoreum of One Man Show by Jacques Bogart (1980). Adolfo bridges the 1970's style with the slightly more herbal and floral style of this same genre that would emerge a few years later with Krizia Uomo (1984) and Basile Uomo (1987), so for me its an in-betweener advancing the state of the art, but not much more remarkable than that. Adolfo for Men is good stuff, but another fragrance lost in the mix because it was launched by a failing brand. Most people's ownership of their bottle lasted longer than the time the scent was on the market.

The opening is honestly more challenging than the rest of the fragrance, so this is the part where not giving up is important. Lots of galbanum, artemisia, juniper, and pine all smack you in the face with the faintest puff of bergamot and lemon to (not) soften them. This huge forest note right up your nose comes in and clears out everything for a softer jasmine and rose-led heart that is made slightly chewy with herbs and clove. The base is another big wollop, but blended much better than the top, with leather, oakmoss, and castoreum creamed together; only a bit of sharp incense and patchouli stick above it. Personally, the dry down is where this gets the "long wearing cologne" tag, as Adolfo goes literally all day, just maybe not with the most potent projection. There's a lot of confusion about how Adolfo smells, and I'll explain that next.

The story from Frances Denny is this was launched as just Adolfo in 1978, named after the Cuban-born NYC haberdasher and milliner named Adolfo Sardina, who never used his own name professionally as a fashion label, but did custom work for clients in his shop. The stuff was relaunched three years later as the Adolfo for Men "Long Wear Cologne" with what I presume is enhanced performance. Adolfo II by Frances Denney (1981) joined the original as a woman's fragrance in the same year the original was given the "Long Wear" upgrade, and eventually was replaced with "Adolfo Classic" by 1993 and given a completely different smell more related to a barbershop fougère before the brand was shuttered. With so many Adolfos out there, you're never sure which one folks remembers smelling when mentioned. Thumbs up

Inouï by Shiseido

Inouï by Shiseido (1976) is a green floral chypre very much in step with chypres of the 1970's, when galbanum and white florals ruled the world of women's perfume (and even some of men's). A lot of people will call this a forgotten gem, but the reality is Shiseido has always been more of a skincare brand outside of its home market of Japan. In the American market, the perfumes were an afterthought, with Inouï launching and then Tactics by Shiseido (1978), a men's market fragrance. Most of these in the US are rarer than hen's teeth because they didn't sell in any respectable numbers, but in the outside world they fared much better. Inouï might have deserved better, but that could also be nostalgia for the style talking.

having smelled a lot of bitter green chypres from the 1970's, Inouï most resembles some Avon fragrances from the period, with its freesia, muguet, jasmine, and bitter oakmoss and musk mallow underneath. Unspoken by Avon (1975) really comes to mind, and so does Avon Sportif (1978) and Avon Emprise (1977). For those not deeply-versed in drugstore or downmarket door-to-door perfume from the US, Aliage by Estée Lauder (1972) can perhaps be the best point of reference, and arguably the earliest aside from maybe Givenchy III (1970). Galbanum, juniper, and soft peach notes over lemon open Inouï, and a tiny bit of civet anchors a skin-feel, but I would not call this animalic, as the Japanese didn't like that kind of raw muskiness.

The herbs, pine, and incense make this very bitter and serious, but the floral choices that Inouï has in common with its Avon contemporaries makes it clean, waif-like, and almost reserved. Most perfume from this era was anything but reserved if it came from a major designer or popular perfume brand, so I can see why Inouï might not have been more popular in the states than it was, as bigger, bolder, more uncompromising things were stalking the fragrance counters of the day, like Chanel Cristalle (1974) and Rive Gauche by Yves Saint Laurent (1971); and then there were all the musks and ambers coming back en vogue too, further complicating Inouï's chances. This is a footnote, but a really good one. Thumbs up

Pu'er Tea by One Day

Pu'er Tea by One Day (2021) is a fragrance from the Chinese perfume house of One Day, led by Hong Kong native Michael Wong. This is one of those left-field brands that has zero hype behind it, and fragrance communities online focused mostly on vintage European or American perfume brands, modern designers, or popular Western luxury and niche labels will have likely never known this brand existed. Pu'er tea itself is rather notorious for being a fermented tea from Yunnan province in China, and is earthy, musky, leathery, and bitter; people wondering how this would make for a good fragrance don't have to fear much from One Day, as their take on the subject is rather tame.

Pu'er Tea opens up with more of a fig tree kind of smell, and it doesn't really resemble the tea much at all, other than some abstract earthy muskiness. This may be a boon to those who don't want to smell exactly like what they drink, as I also tend to not like photorealistic coffee fragrances either, meaning I'd probably take this over smelling like actual pu'er cakes. There is a chypre-like crispness to this I like, and a very light touch of cypriol mixed with cedarwood through a white floral core into the base. Vetiver and a myrrh-like incense note make up that dry green slightly smoky finish of Pu'er Tea, and a very Aesop-like vibe overall. Performance is quite tenacious.

Overall, this is a pleasant surprise, and the kind of thing you're likely only going to find at LuckyScent or Ministry of Scent, and similar niche perfume specialists online; you most certainly won't find available testers of this at 99% of brick and mortar shops, so going out on a limb to get samples is unfortunately the one thing keeping it and many other fragrances/brands like it from being discovered by more people. I've said time and again people want to try things risk free, and needing to purchase samples blindly adds up quickly, especially with a house like One Day that already has almost 30 releases despite barely being five years old at the time of this review. All that aside, this is nice. Thumbs up

Nocturnal Rose by Bath & Body Works

Nocturnal Rose by Bath & Body Works (2026) smells like a lot of things that already exist, namely Déclaration d'Un Soir by Cartier (2012) and ck 2 by Calvin Klein (2016); to a lesser extent this smells like Thé Noir 29 by Le Labo (2015), which is of course what all the numpties in FragBroLand wanna say, because everything cheaper than something more expensive is always a shameless clone of that thing (but never in reverse). Nobody ever stops to think that Déclaration d'Un Soir actually didn't even this thing first, with Burberry Brit for Men (2004) being the origin of this particular species, and Nocturnal Rose is just another one of "those".

If you don't know what I am talking about, it's that particular "gray rose" smell which is a combination of ketones, geraniol, and black pepper over dry woody notes and metallic musks, faking out a colorless rose-like aroma made maasculine (or very least unisex). Burberry's original take was a bit more tamped down for that austere British vibe, while laters cranked up rose, pepper, or added something. Thé Noir is certainly the loudest and darkest with its black tea note, while this downmarket take from Bath & Body Works ends up being mostly about the woods and pepper in the base, making it the easiest to like of all I've tried in the vein.

Regardless of its derivation, Nocturnal Rose by Bath & Body Works is shockingly daring for a release from the mall chain, which typically does not veer often from its long-in-the-tooth 2000's aquatics, boozy woody ambers, or fresh fougères; they certainly don't wander into niche territory with masculine rose fragrances or anything that may be more divisive, at least not without it being a limited edition like Canyon by Bath & Body Works (2021), which aped the style of Amyris Homme by Maison Francis Kurkdjian (2012) with less tropical energy. Who knows, this might be limited too? If it is, I won't start a panic, but give it a sniff regardless. Thumbs up

Philosopher’s Walk by Les Abstraits

Philosopher’s Walk by Les Abstraits (2025) is a fantastic classic fougère, with bits of 1980's semi-oriental tones, bits of green 1970's aromatic tones, and some of the pillowy barbershop tones of the pre-war period stretching back even farther. Philosopher's Walk doesn't feel like a fragrance out of time, but like a fragrance that stretches across time, not unlike La Douleur Exquis by Les Abstraits (2022), which smashes together several different eras and even regions of the world. Say what you will about YouTube personalities launching perfume brands, we've all had our digs at the banal but begrudgingly successful Jeremy Fragrance and his Fragrance One brand; but there are people in this space with sincerity and authentic taste they wish to express creatively, even if it may still be distasteful to buy from them over a historical nameplate owned by corporations or billionaire private investment. When you put it like that, seems silly to debate the source if the juice is good.

So the skinny is this: Philosopher's Walk opens with a lot of different aromatics I won't list in full because there are just too many and it won't really help you understand how this smells. Instead, it's a delicate balance of citruses and florals, with some dry spices and aromatics like cinnamon, artemisia, juniper, cardamom, and the impression of petitgrain even though it isn't here. All this really reminds me a lot of Chanel Pour Monsieur Eau de Parfum (2014) and a bit of Lalique pour Homme (1997) in its original "Lion" format. The heart is another long list of things, with that fougère core of lavender, geranium, and clary sage being dry and stately. Carnation plays a smaller role here than in La Douleur Exquis, and it gets drier still from violet, before we get a cushy semi-oriental fougère base. This base of oakmoss and tonka is a balance of benzoin and vanilla on one side, with vetiver and cedar on the other. Patchouli and costus rides the middle. Vintage enthusiasts will be happy with this one too, methinks.

The full effect is as I said, green in places, plush in others, clean and herbal, but not astringent or bitter. This will remind you of many things, but never clearly one thing, and because it is such a pastiche of so much time across a single long-lived genre of fragrance, it feels paradoxically old and new. So yeah, you will end up philosophizing some if you try and unravel this little gem and deconstruct it; I advise that you don't and just enjoy the ride. The brand says this is a floral fougère, and I can see that side of it, but I think it's so much more than that, evidenced by so many cherry-picked elements from different schools of thought on the subject. The average bloke who doesn't care about writing poetry inspired by his cologne of choice, or any of the deeper nerdy stuff us weirdos get into will also love the overall formal masculinity on display. I can't say there hasn't been anything like this, but I can say there hasn't been anything exactly like it, either. Thumbs up