Tag Archives: Men’s Fragrances

Men’s Cologne — Explorer by Montblanc

First off, let’s discuss the elephant in the room when it comes to Montblanc’s Explorer, namely that it is widely considered one of the best “clones” of Creed’s genre-defining blockbuster, Aventus. That’s certainly part of the reason I bought it blind: because I wanted something more economical than Aventus. I enjoy that high-end fragrance but seeing as Aventus retails for somewhere north of four hundred bucks for 100 ml and Explorer can be had for around $100 (and often less than that via discounters like Fragrancenet.com) it seemed like a no brainer to give the Montblanc a tumble. But now having tried them both, applying the Aventus clone label to Explorer seems a bit damning with faint praise in a snobby kind of way. Yes, there are certainly similarities between Explorer (created 2019) and Aventus (2010). But there are enough differences for me to say that Explorer is not so much of a clone per se but rather a designer offering that utilizes the same modern and somewhat minimalist style that has essentially redefined masculine perfumery the way the inexpensive Davidoff Cool Water and the pricey Creed Green Irish Tweed did for the “aromatic aquatic”/”fresh fougere” in the late 1980s (although those two really do smell virtually identical).

From the Montblanc Explorer ad campaign

Instead of the rather heady and photorealistic sweet pineapple top notes of Creed’s Aventus, Explorer opens with a more astringent but still slightly sweet bergamot note which is much more fleeting than the lush tropical fruit of the Creed. It is paired with that ubiquitous pink peppercorn note now found in virtually all flagship masculines like Bleu de Chanel and Dunhill’s Icon, putting Explorer firmly in the same easy to reach for, easy to wear category as those two modern classics. They say there’s clary sage at the top, as well, but I don’t really get a lot of that and Explorer will never be mistaken for classic sage-heavy ballbusters like Antaeus and Maxim’s Pour Homme. Rather, Explorer is always a very polite and office friendly offering. Some have even claimed that it’s a more versatile cologne than Aventus, since it lacks the smoky birch tar/incense note that certain batches of that endlessly fetishized juice seem to emphasize more than others (trust me, you don’t want or need to go down that rabbit hole of Aventus batch micro-analysis — that’s its own weirdly obsessive demimonde). Instead Montblanc and the trio of perfumers who apparently worked by committee to develop this Eau de Parfum opt for a very pleasing vetiver in the heart to pair with the rather seductively salty ambroxan/Ambrofix/ambergris note that also makes Aventus such a joy to wear and such a consistent compliment getter. In some ways, I actually prefer the vetiver-ambergris pas de deux in Explorer, as it comes across like a real exotic beach experience with both the smell of the ocean and the fizz of Haitian vetiver — the coming together of the sea and the land — complimenting each other marvelously. So kudos to the creative team at Montblanc for pairing these two classic notes and blending them so well.

Where Explorer is decidedly inferior to Aventus is in terms of performance. While it gets knocked a lot for smelling “synthetic,” this is a facile criticism to make because Explorer proudly touts the use of artificial scent molecules like Ambrofix and Akigalwood. In fact, Explorer smells just as “natural” as the Creed icon and is never screechy or loud in the vein of another ambroxan-laden poster boy, Dior’s polarizing Sauvage. But frankly Explorer could use a bit more of Sauvage’s swagger because, while it is altogether classier and easier to wear, this “eau de parfum” concentration struggles to perform like even a decent eau de toilette. It could be the way it wears on my skin or perhaps I become anosmic to its scent molecules but I get only about four hours of noticeable wear time and the latter half of that is pretty much entirely as a skin scent. The promised patchouli-Akigalwood base sadly never really materializes, at least from the brand new bottle I have, making this purported “woody aromatic” actually fit the mode of an aquatic aromatic instead with a slightly soapy a very faint finish. I don’t think it is peculiar to me, though, as I can’t really smell it in on my clothes the following day when my nose has been refreshed, a test nearly all colognes that I’ve owned usually pass with flying colors.

Don’t get me wrong, I really like Explorer. I think it’s not so clone-like that if you already have Aventus you would never need or want the Montblanc, especially if you’re particularly fond of this modern style of men’s scent but don’t feel like burning through the high end Creed quite so rapidly. But Aventus thrashes Explorer in terms of longevity and sillage, as do such other modern pillars of perfumery like the aforementioned Bleu de Chanel and Terre d’ Hermès. And while the price is easy enough to afford a backup bottle since you’re going to need to reapply a couple times of day if you want it to stick around, that’s still disappointing. For something that should be an ideal work or casual scent, good in all weather except the very coldest and a definite compliment getter, the poor performance really lets this juice down in the end. I keep waiting for the aeration of the recently acquired bottle — which is a really beautiful flaçon, by the way — to bring a little more punch and power to Explorer, much as time seems to benefit Aventus’s complexity and performance. But I have my doubts. Maybe you’ll have better luck, though, and on just pure wearability and enjoyment of the overall fragrance I still have to highly recommend Explorer to any guy out there looking for a can’t miss crowd pleaser at a fair price. The brief top and heart is so pleasing and frankly addictive you’ll probably forgive Explorer’s rather anticlimactic disappearing act.

Men’s Cologne — Invasion Barbare by MDCI Parfums

I don’t often write outright negative reviews — what’s the point in that there is usually something to enjoy in most offerings out there so why take time to dwell on the negative? But for Invasion Barbare, I’ll make an exception. Because anything both this hyped and this expensive should be exceptionally good and it just isn’t to my nose. I’m not even going to go with the damning with faint praise “it’s solid but nothing special.” I’m saying that I do not like the way Invasion Barbare smells at all. Now, I’ll be the first to admit that this reaction places me in the extreme minority of opinions about this highly regarded niche fragrance from the very lux MDCI Parfums. Perhaps swayed by the retail price of $250 per 75ml via Lucky Scent ($375 if you spring for the over-the-top Roman bust flaçon) or grand guru of perfume reviewers Luca Turin’s 5-star rave, people can’t seem to help gushing about this 2006-created “oriental fougère.” But I really don’t like it. For all the talk about the incredible blending of ultra-natural ingredients, IB smells highly synthetic to my nose, as well as unbalanced and flabbily “spicy” until the reasonably pleasant woody dry down. There is a notable lack of greenness in the composition with a lavender that is barely there, subsumed by violet, ginger, cardamom and vanilla notes that provide an almost oppressive warmth and sweetness. I suppose this is what makes Invasion Barbare skew “oriental” but simply put this is not how I like my fougères.

Invasion Barbare starts out with a very heavy violet accord — a note I don’t dislike at all in a many classic men’s scents from Grey Flannel to Morabito’s Or Black — but here it is somewhat flaccid/withered and paired pretty much instantly with ginger, cardamom and a very persistent vanilla, which I admit is a note I usually don’t love and I certainly don’t love it in this. If this parfum-strength juice did actually have more of that promised lavender — or more kick and brightness from the very fleeting grapefruit/bergamot top notes — it might rescue it from the claustrophobic feel I get when wearing it. But the “sharpness,” such as it is, comes from a kind of cedar note buzzing in the background through the dry down, which is pleasant enough on its own, paired with a very realistic but incongruous thyme that just adds to the overall sense of a construction out of balance. It’s also not helped by an utterly generic musk in the base that, paired with the persistent vanilla, really clings to the skin for hours on end for a kind of clean laundry meets woodsy-spiciness plus powder effect. How anyone could perceive these accords as “ultra-natural” and “of the highest quality” is beyond me. Frankly, they smell cheap and artificial and that’s with trying it in winter, undoubtably showing this fragrance in its best light. In warm weather I think it could well be unwearable.

If you want something in this vein but one hundred times better and more distinctive (again, my opinion only) search out an original bottle of vintage Gucci Pour Homme. Yes, the cedar, patchouli and general pencil shavings feel that it shares with Invasion Barbare are dialed up way higher in the lamentably discontinued Gucci PH, perhaps due to a greater concentration of Iso E Super (an ingredient I would bet is also in IB in some quantity). But that is a good thing as it doesn’t allow the ginger that they also share to become so stiflingly prominent and more patchouli would, in fact, have really helped Invasion Barbare to counterbalance its cloying vanilla/musk base notes. At least Guccci Pour Homme has a real masculine personality and doesn’t come across like it was designed by committee out of the most clichéd and synthetic aroma chemicals available after being planned on a white board in some conference room, as well as containing no unisex vanilla. Sure, Gucci Pour Homme may also be nearly as expensive on the secondary market as a brand new bottle of IB but I will take the vintage, out-of-print designer frag over this over-hyped niche offering any day of the week. For a more economical analog you could go with the original Burberry for Men, although in its current formulation it is undoubtedly less refined, more minty and less bold than either the Gucci or the IB, but does share a lot of the same general vibe and can be had for very little money.

So there it is — I don’t like Invasion Barbare. A lot of people do, however, and will praise it to the skies as one of the best fougères in the modern firmament. For me it is neither “fresh” enough or “fougère” (i.e., green) enough to be a pleasant wearing experience, much less deserving of a full bottle purchase at that extremely high price point. Worst of all, it lacks cojones and is altogether generic smelling. Your mileage may vary, of course, so I suggest sampling before you buy, as you probably should with any cologne, especially an expensive one like this. You may well like it a lot, as most reviewers seem to, and find it one of the best, most masculine, most gentlemanly scents out there. For me, it served as a fine motivation to have a vigorous workout so I could justify a second shower on the day to wash it off. So I suppose it wasn’t a total loss after all.

Men’s Cologne — Ungaro pour L’Homme I by Emanuel Ungaro

Ungaro pour L’Homme I was the first of three Emanuel Ungaro masculine fragrances released in successive years between 1991 and 1993. Of the three, only the unapologetically macho and boozy Ungaro III is still in production, which is a pity as I and II have plenty to offer the omnivorous frag-head. That said, it’s not hard to see why the first two Ungaro pour L’Hommes were discontinued rather abruptly shortly after Salvatore Ferragamo acquired the brand from Chanel. This first one is described as an Oriental Fougere, a term that seems somewhat like an oxymoron but I suppose because there is a bit of lavender, bergamot and lemon in the composition that is the justification for this hybrid categorization and it is placed close to the infamous Zino from Davidoff on the definitive H&R Genealogy of Masculine Fragrances chart, which makes sense both conceptually and in terms of their similar styles. Like Zino, Ungaro I is primarily an Oriental scent, though it is thankfully much less musty/heavy than Zino. What you get with Ungaro is a heady rose/pathcouli/oakmoss blend with a hard to pin down musk in a base that mainly features sandalwood with hints of amber, tonka and honey. Perhaps because the bottle I have is likely from the early-to-mid-’90s (though not the first batch since it has the Roman numeral on it to distinguish it from it’s successors) I don’t really get a lot of the bright citrus top notes originally listed, though there is definitely some cool lavender up front. Mainly this is one of the most rose-forward men’s fragrances I’ve ever come across, much more so than another ostensible rose powerhouse, Van Cleef & Arpels Pour Homme. The Ungaro is altogether brighter than the gloomy VC&A Pour Homme with an almost photo-realistic rose accord as opposed to Van Cleef’s impression, which is submerged in massive amounts of oakmoss, spices, woody notes and leather. Sure, the oakmoss is quite prominent in Ungaro I, and since this is a vintage potion I assume it’s the real stuff, but here it seems to be dancing a pas de deux with the rose and not overwhelming it. There is a touch of sage, artemisia and pine giving this juice a forested if not really a green feel and I also get some sort of cedar-like woodiness that doesn’t seem to be in the notes. But these heart notes are fairly fleeting and quickly become submissive to a rather impressive and refined patchouli that emerges to the fore in the dry down alongside a pleasantly creamy but subtle sandalwood and just enough amber and honey to keep Ungaro I from getting overly somber.

Now, as you can probably tell from that description, the original Ungaro pour L’Homme can be a tricky scent for the uninitiated and there is something definitely throwback-gentlemanly about it that will make a younger guy raised on aquatics and sport scents run screaming for the hills at first sniff. This is a man’s eau de toilette and specifically a rather well dressed and even formal man. I wore this on New Year’s Eve and I think those sorts of special occasions are where it shines most brightly. You’d be hard pressed to pull off Ungaro I in jeans and a T-shirt or a casual meet-up for brunch with friends. This is essentially a nocturnal scent and not suitable for the office unless you are the boss and want to make a power statement to strike fear into the hearts of the millennials who work for you. It’s not even doable for your average date night unless you happen to be going to a fancy French restaurant that still has a dress code and a wine list like an encyclopedia. Undoubtedly one of the main reasons for its short time in production was that this first Ungaro pour L’Homme was asking a question that was becoming increasingly irrelevant in the ’90s when it debuted and certainly even less so as we progressed into the 2000s and beyond. That would be: What should the well-dressed man wear during some of life’s more formal occasions? There just aren’t enough of these sorts of black tie events in most people’s lives to justify something as over-the-top conservative slash dandified as Ungaro I. I enjoy wearing it but this is no one’s idea of a signature scent — it’s simply not versatile enough for that — and I probably reach for it a mere handful of times in any given year. I’m fairly sure my 3.5 oz bottle will last longer than I will. In fact, it almost feels more 1890s than 1990s and you could easily see Sean Connery’s suave, cigar smoking, ruffle-shirted rogue in The Great Train Robbery wearing this rather majestically anachronistic masculine concoction.

Ungaro pour L’Homme I does smell very, very good and if you have acquired the taste for a dominant rose note in your colognes it’s definitely worth sampling. The problem being, however, that it is discontinued as mentioned and the prices on the secondary market are quite high, like well into the $200s for full size bottles. You can find somewhat pricey decanted mini-samples on eBay from time to time, so that might be the best route to try before you really buy and spend niche money on what was always just a very good quality designer frag. Alternatively, I don’t see the comparison anywhere else but to my nose Ungaro I smells reasonably similar to Guerlain’s Heritage, at least to the latter’s current EDT formulation. For me the two share a similar bright rose note with fizzy oakmoss/patchouli/sandalwood vibes, though there isn’t any of the famed “Guerlainade” vanillin base of Heritage in the Ungaro. Heritage is also somehow more versatile even if still an acquired taste for most modern men and lends itself to casual as well as formal situations once you’ve gotten into a groove with it. But the original Ungaro pour L’Homme is simply too jarringly out of time for that kind of everyday wear. While I don’t find it as gloomy or overly dark as many people seem to and I think comparisons with animalic ball breakers like Salvador Dali Pour Homme and Balenciaga Pour Homme are misguided — de la Renta’s brooding Pour Loui this is definitely not — this eau de toilette performs more like a parfum, projecting quite strongly for the first four hours or so and then settling down to a still potent moderate phase where the patchouli really kicks in until dying down to a pleasant skin scent at around the 8-9 hour mark. I’d say it’s for a relatively mature man who is secure in his own skin, as this one will perplex most men and women under 35, if not 45. It’s definitely masculine and a borderline powerhouse but has a classiness that pulls it back from the brink of loud and uncomfortable. Given the right occasion, Ungaro pour L’Homme I is a rather stunning addition to one’s gentlemanly presentation. It’s just that finding such an occasion and an appreciative audience for this fascinating and rare out-of-print Oriental Fougere can be more of a challenge than actually finding a bottle.

Men’s Cologne — Dunhill for Men (1934) by Alfred Dunhill

Talk about a golden oldie! The original Dunhill for Men dates all the way back to 1934… and yet it wears just as well today. I suppose a classic is a classic and Dunhill for Men has stayed immune to the whims of fashion and fad so that it simply remains a very good smelling gentleman’s fragrance here well into the 21st Century. Very much in the English style, as one would expect, Dunhill is currently found in Eau de Toilette strength and is big on a masculine arrangement of flowers, with lavender, geranium and jasmine being the most prominent of them to my nose, though rose and iris are also listed in the notes. It goes on clean and bright without a lot of pumped up musks or other scratchy elements but with a rather juicy lemon kiss up front. You can tell that Dunhill for Men is still crafted with natural, high quality oils despite being around for a million years. The yellow juice inside its classic squat, clear spiraled glass and heavy, ridged black plastic cap flaçon has a decidedly less synthetic feel than even very good modern colognes like Bleu de Chanel and Armani’s Acqua di Gió Profumo, both of which I like very much. But then Dunhill for Men has zero relationship with today’s aquatics or aquatic/fougère hybrids. Rather, it is focused not just on those very pleasant floral/citrus top notes, which are reminiscent of a scented hot towel at the end of a shave or haircut from a particularly good barber, but also on a supporting lattice featuring subtle base notes of woods, vetiver and slightly creamy sandalwood that anchor and give depth to the composition. With that hit of lemon and a touch of clary sage it actually adds up to a rather pleasant and easy to wear leather fragrance even though it is categorized as a “woody spicy” scent. Yes, there are some vague hints of spice but I think Dunhill kept most of those in reserve for their much more nutmeg-y Edition some 50-years later.

What you realize while wearing the original Dunhill is how it became a touchstone and inspired a whole distinct lineage of men’s colognes further down the road. There is definitely something in the composition of Dunhill for Men that leads directly to the floral powerhouses that crop up and dominate men’s cologne in different eras. Despite the absence of violet, I look at Dunhill as the progenitor of classics like Geoffrey Beene’s Grey Flannel, Dior’s Fahrenheit and Morabito’s Or Black. The flower powered Hemes Equipage also bears a bit of resemblance and you could even make a case for similarities to Eau Sauvage and Monsieur de Givenchy. When you smell these and then get a whiff of Dunhill I think you’ll know what I’m talking about. The Dunhill is altogether more restrained than most of them, however, without the moss & violet overload of Grey Flannel, much less of a petroleum vibe than Fahrenheit and Or Black (though the jasmine does add just a touch of that) and altogether less dandified and sort of borderline unisex than Equipage. It’s definitely more in tune with the everyday wearability and restrained masculinity of Eau Sauvage and Monsieur Givenchy, albeit an even better performer than those two stalwarts.

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Men’s Cologne — Vetiver by Guerlain

In much the same way that Givenchy’s original Gentleman is essentially a pure pachouli fragrance, Gurlain’s masculine classic Vetiver is, as you would expect, headlined by a sharp and spicy-clean vetiver note above all others purported to be in this Eau de Toilette’s deceptively cluttered-looking fragrance pyramid.  Yes, if you try really hard you can pick out a bit of nutmeg and cedar undergirding the construction of this well made and timeless offering from the legendary house of Guerlain. And perhaps there is a hint of classic fougere citrus-herb-wood notes floating in and out of this woody aromatic beauty, as well as a subtle civet that was probably much more in your face when this benchmark men’s cologne was introduced way back in 1961. But in the modern iteration the civet is nothing more than a subtle binding ingredient and Vetiver gives of zero funky vibes from that famed catlike mammal’s often challenging but prized secretions.

No, what you get is green, grassy, slightly smokey vetiver at its finest, a clean scent easily splashed on after a shower and a shave with polite sillage and projection but a strong manly, outdoorsy quality. Guerlain’s Vetiver should probably be in the fragrance arsenal of any stylish man because it is so pleasing and pleasingly versatile. While particularly appropriate in the warmer months where the lack of sweetness and the juice’s overall bracing astringency is welcome, it is also easily worn in cooler temps. And while the sharp and smoky earthy grassiness characteristic of good vetiver are stimulating to the senses, Guerlain’s Vetiver lacks the sometimes unpleasantly strange and pervasive sharpness and amplified woody overkill of other highly regarded modern descendants like Lalique’s murky Encre Noir and Commes des Garçons aggressive Wonderwood that make those two much more difficult to wear on a regular basis (or maybe there is something about their shared cashmeran accord that I just don’t love). Instead Guerlain’s original is highly versatile, good for the office or the weekend. In fact, if you’re only taking one cologne on an out of town trip with you this Vetiver is a great choice. Continue reading →

Men’s Cologne — Monsieur de Givenchy by Givenchy (Original)

This is a review for the original Monsieur de Givenchy, which was in production for about a million years before being reformulated and moved to the Les Mythiques line of classic Givenchy fragrances from years gone by. I don’t have any experience with the new Les Mythiques version, although I do know it is certainly streamlined and tweaked ingredient-wise and complaints about its sillage and longevity are prevalent amongst the cognoscenti. That said, the original Monsieur de Givenchy is not exactly a powerhouse either. Nor was it meant to be.

One of the granddaddies of masculine perfumery, Monsieur de Givenchy was the famed designer’s first offering for men and debuted way back in 1959. Along with Chanel Pour Monsieur (1955 ) and Dior’s Eau Sauvage (1966), Givenchy’s Monsieur could be said to form a perfect triptych of “modern” mid-century aromatic citrus fragrances from which all successors have borrowed and taken inspiration. Interestingly nowadays not quite as highly regarded as those other two icons of masculine perfumery, for my money Monsieur de Givenchy is certainly more wearable today for the average guy than the more senior Pour Monsieur, which has a much heavier powder vibe to go along with its lemon-floral mix. It is also decidedly less sweet than Eau Sauvage, leaning less on fruity citrus than the Dior and more on bracing lemon and lemon verbena for its top notes. Monsieur de Givenchy’s other real signature element is its reliance on a crisp and classy carnation that fills out the heart after the initial eye-opening lemony astringency of the top notes.

There are also the traditional lavender, sandlewood and oakmoss accords very subtly undergirding the base of what is really a very bright and invigorating composition overall. Interestingly, the nose behind this mid-century masterpiece was Francis Fabron who was primarily a woman’s fragrance composer. But Monsieur de Givenchy is unmistakably masculine with its aura of restrained elegance and overall high end barbershop vibe. It’s just about the perfect morning tonic after a shower and a shave and is particularly good in warm weather when heavier colognes become unpleasant to wear. In fact, while labeled an Eau de Toilette, Monsieur de Givenchy is similar to Eau Sauvage in that it essentially performs at a traditional Eau de Cologne strength while maintaining superior natural ingredients and a beautifully structured overall composition. So sillage and projection are moderate and unintimidating while longevity is relatively fleeting at around 4 hours, the last 1 hour as pretty much a skin scent. But then if you are looking for power there’s always Monsieur’s patchouli-soaked bad boy brother Gentleman. It’s notable that Givenchy cleverly played up the concept of a different scent for day and night in their marketing by pairing the two bottles in the ads after Gentleman was introduced in the more ballsy ’70s.

If you’re looking for a sophisticated masculine that pairs well with a crisply ironed cotton shirt at the office or at brunch with friends and family or perhaps a new flame, Monsieur de Givenchy is a classic choice that really hasn’t aged a bit in its long life. It makes a great changeup from most modern masculines, as there isn’t a hint of sweetness or the aquatic and yet it is still “fresh” in the best sense of the word. And since the original is my only experience with it, I’d recommend picking up a vintage bottle on eBay, where they are generally under $80 for a 2 ounce spray and less for a splash. You certainly could try the new Les Mythiques interpretation and at around $40-something for 3.3 ounces from discount retailers like Amazon it’s definitely much less pricey. But I’ll be sticking with the original version for as long as it doesn’t get too crazily expensive on the secondary market. I like Monsieur de Givenchy just the way he always was. Why mess with a classic?

Men’s Cologne – Polo by Ralph Lauren

Ralph Lauren’s Polo is an old warhorse that still performs like a thoroughbred in its prime. Created way back in 1978, Polo escaped the trap that many of the other succeeding powerhouse Chypres like Antaeus, Salvador Dali and de la Renta’s Pour Loui fell into, that of a general lack of versatility due to their heavily nocturnal and overtly animalic natures, making them taboo in today’s more aromatically PC culture. No, Polo EDT is a cologne you can still spritz on happily in the morning after a shower despite its uhr-leathey nature. It is so wonderfully blended that the green notes easily balance out its more foreboding macho aspects, which to this nose simply summon up the active pleasures of the outdoors and the enjoyable time spent relaxing afterwards.

True there is nothing modern about Polo Green and the complaints about its old-mannish qualities are legion. But I have come to firmly believe as I’ve explored more and more men’s fragrances that trying a cologne once will never give you the full picture about whether it’s really going to work for you. You’ve got to revisit it even if you’re initially turned off and preferably let the juice in the bottle aerate after first use and then begin to macerate (I’ve come to also feel this is absolutely pivotal but more on that later). Much like a song you hear for the first time that does nothing for you but later becomes one of your favorites after repeat listenings, cologne can work its magic through repetition and familiarization. Such is the case with the initially intimidating Polo.

Polo definitely goes on strong at first spray with a veritable blast of soapy and astringent green notes like artemisia, juniper and pine, leavened by a very pleasantly smooth and slightly sweet lavender, all underpinned by what smells to me like a smoky, birch tar-like note. This last note is a harbinger of the heart of Polo, where the slightly harsh but exuberant green top notes give way to a classic patchouli-oakmoss-vetiver trinity that is blended into something warm and ultra-masculine but not too over the top. The base dries down into a rich tobacco-leather with a hint of woods and incense, one of the best in the game if not quite as on the nose as Bel Ami’s perfect imitation of leather. It’s comforting and yet stimulating, like pipe smoke in a leather lined study, as others have said before me (sometimes something’s a cliche because it’s true). Longevity is more than solid at around 8 hours and the ingredients in the current version still smell natural and very well blended, justifying the relatively steep price (about $85 retail for 4 oz, less on such reseller sights as Amazon and Fragrancenet).

It all boils down to an unimpeachably classic masculine fragrance, albeit definitely one from the old school (big props to its creator and longtime RL collaborator, Carlos Benaim). There is nothing unisex about Polo with zero aquatic notes and barely any sweetness — you can explore the endless list of Polo flankers for those effects —  which is probably why so many young guys run screaming from it. I also admit to being nonplussed when I first tried it. It is definitely less initially user-friendly than the old school Fougères that I cut my teeth on like Paco Rabanne, Tsar and Lauder for Men. But the rewards are no less great than that classic trio and it is considerably more suited to everyday use than its near contemporaries on the Chypre scale like Aramis, Giorgio of Beverly Hills or Fahrenheit. So definitely a try before you buy — on skin not a paper strip — and preferably try several times over time to see if you don’t wind up loving it. That’s what happened to me and now I wear it at least once a week so long as there’s a hint of cool in the weather. If you’re going on a road trip, particularly somewhere rustic in the day with something country-sophisticated in the evening like a well turned out lodge, original Polo might end up being the only cologne you need to pack in your duffel.

Men’s Cologne — Acqua di Giò Profumo by Giorgio Armani

Just when I think I’ve warmed up to Bleu de Chanel as the best and most versatile of the modern colognes out there I start using Acqua di Giò Profumo by Giorgio Armani. A richer and deeper flanker to the original aquatic classic, which is probably the biggest selling men’s frag ever, the Profumo version was released some twenty years later in 2015. And as nice as that original Eau de Toilette is, the Profumo is a superior juice, a stronger yet minimalist interpretation that ends up highly addictive.

In Acqua di Giò Profumo the original’s massive ingredient list gets pared down but the intensity dialed way up. Instead of the modern interpretation of the classic Italian Mediterranean aftershave experience that the original Giò executes so well with a veritable host of notes, the Profumo augments the signature seaside aquatic note by ditching many of the others and ramping up the herbs, mainly sage and rosemary (and do I get a hint of thyme in there even though it’s not listed officially?). The result is less salad dressing than bracing, almost peppery nose-tickling spices that stimulate the senses. These are listed as heart notes but really they come out to play almost immediately after the first spritz, pushing their way past the hint of bergamot in the open in a pleasingly assertive fashion. This spicey phase lasts a good long time, as befits an Eau de Parfum, and eventually mellows with an overall darkening where a sleek and non-sweet incense emerges to ground the composition beautifully. There is also a non-skanky, quite dry patchouli whispering in the background as well. Like a lot of modern EDTs this can be hard to detect when you’re used to wearing vintage patch powerhouses like Giorgio of Beverly Hills or Givenchy Gentleman but it’s there lending support to the persistent oceanic, incense and spice notes.

Despite or perhaps because of this relatively simple structure, Acqua di Giò really shines as a daily driver that is a cut above most other modern colognes. I guess I prefer it to the very good Bleu, which has definitely grown on me. Despite a general similarity in their use of incense and overall “feel,” that signature grapefruit note in Bleu’s open is more of a hit-or-miss, “in the mood” aroma for me than Giò Profumo’s green spices. And the Profumo retains its structure better over time than the Bleu EDT, which becomes somewhat defuse after 4 hours, though perhaps this is an unfair knock given the ostensible difference in formulated power between the two. Suffice to say there is just something in Acqua di Giò that appeals to my traditional fougere-centric side, despite it being listed as an Aromatic Aquatic. It’s like standing in an herb garden by the sea as briney breezes carry incense from a church service nearby.

It’s undeniably masculine, strong enough to make a statement but versatile and modern enough for daily use and on into the evening. Staying power is very good at about 8 hours, considerably more on clothes, and the composition also hangs together well over time unlike so many modern perfumes, which seem to disintegrate into fragments of their component parts. I see it as a year-rounder, very good in warmer weather like its forebear but also solid in colder months because of that addictive spicey kick and its subtle smokiness. Sillage is moderately strong but be forewarned: like one or two other very “inoffensive” colognes — Creed Green irish Tweed springs to mind — it is so pleasant smelling the temptation is to really lay it on thick. But this handsome obsidian-black and silver flaçoned modern marvel is also a subtle powerhouse. Less is more unless you are comfortable being noticed as cologne guy. However, this Profumo’s strength in moderation is also a good thing because it is far from cheap at nearly 100 bucks for a mere 2.5 ounces. But you get what you pay for with Acqua di Gió Profumo: a quality juice with all around wearability and worthy of signature scent status for the discerning gentleman.

Men’s Cologne — Bleu de Chanel by Chanel

Bleu de Chanel is something of the elephant in the room when it comes to today’s men’s fragrances. Since its release in 2010 by the illustrious House of Chanel, Bleu has been equal part praised and vilified, enormously successful and pilloried for that very mass market appeal, not to mention much imitated by competitors envious of its market share. As the newest in a long line of legendary Chanel offerings for men that includes Pour Monsieur, Allure, Egoiste and my personal favorite, Antaeus, Bleu marked a break from such utterly unique compositions and an attempt at a more modern, mainstream “youthful” juice with wide appeal. Based on its commercial success, there can be no doubt that Chanel succeeded. If Bleu is a little on the dull and boring side it is also made of the highest quality ingredients, as one would expect, and blended beautifully. It’s a very good daily driver for those of us who don’t have the stones to wear Antaeus as a daytime office scent or on a first date. And let’s be honest, that’s probably most of us and with very good reason.

grapefruit

Characterized as a Woody Aromatic, Bleu Eau de Toilete opens instead with its signature high note of clean grapefruit with a hint of fresh ginger adding a little complexity. This is handled well and comes across as nicely crisp and bracing, a very good way to start the day after a shower. The laundry musk of so many other “fresh” scents is thankfully absent and despite the name this is not really an aquatic scent either, unlike its rather bad competitor from Dior, Sauvage. While I’ve never been able to detect any patchouli, as listed in the notes, and only a bare minimum of vetiver, there is a subtle development away from the somewhat generic citrus beginning as those promised woody notes of mellow sandalwood and crisp cedar begin to assert themselves. This is complemented by peppery accords — pink they say — and a harmonious mint that brings to mind a toned down, more elegant version of Burberry Men. The woods remain deep into the dry down and while still staying very fresh, Bleu EDT softens with its trademark light incense base giving the fragrance a little warmth where before there was mainly a cool, attention-getting crispness to the whole experience.

I say attention-getting because even though Bleu shares aspects of other “modern” compositions favored by younger guys these days it is distinctive enough, as well as definitely a well crafted juice and not a synthetic mess, that it always seems to stand out and get compliments from the fairer sex. It’s taken me a long time to warm up to Bleu de Chanel — at first I was decidedly unimpressed — and my preference for this sort of daytime fragrance still leans more towards old school green classics like Lauder for Men and Tsar. But Bleu has grown on me and the response it gets makes me think that it somehow makes more of an impression on those around me than on my own nose, perhaps due to olfactory fatigue. So yes, its safe, a little less than exciting or bold and somewhat annoyingly au courant in its lack of a forceful personality.

But sometimes safe is a positive quality in a cologne when you’re not trying to make a given experience all about you or what scent you’re wearing. It’s certainly very good in warm weather, a definite daytime stalwart and fine for a casual evening out when you just want to smell good, clean and effortlessly manly. The nearly opaque deep blue flacon (bottle) is handsome, solid and simple and the vaporizer delivers a consistent dose without dripping or leakage. So Bleu is quality all the way and an all around versatile performer with solid but not overpowering sillage and good longevity at around 6 hours until it is a skin scent (more on clothing, of course). You’ll smell good, you’ll smell masculine despite the modern interpretation and no one will ever be offended by what your wearing. The only downside is its popularity, which might mean the guy next to you at the bar or the gym might also be rocking Bleu. But then you don’t really wear Bleu to stand out. It’s a solid addition to any man’s wardrobe precisely because it is so user-friendly and versatile. I can honestly say that the experience of wearing it gets better over time, as the quality of the composition becomes more apparent (and perhaps in-bottle maceration also contributes to this improvement). And when you feel like you simply can’t play it this safe anymore and you’ve got to embrace your ballsy side Chanel still thankfully offers its full throated masculines like Antaeus. So kudos for the great fashion house for keeping its classics in circulation as well as moving forward with the very solid, very reliable Bleu. In this here today, gone tomorrow world of modern perfumery Chanel’s pride and traditionalism amidst undeniable innovation deserves praise. It’s a tribute to their sophistication that they acknowledge that there are many moods to a man and while Bleu might suit some of them, and suit them in style, it certainly shouldn’t be the only one.

Bleu de Chanel is available directly from Chanel.com as an EDT and a Eau de Parfum and in a variety of sizes and affiliated beauty products. Chanel keeps tight control of their distribution and it ain’t cheap but you’ll always know you’re getting genuine Chanel quality.

Men’s Cologne — Dunhill Edition by Dunhill

Dunhill Edition is another older but still excellent Aromatic Fougerie, that ultimate gentlemen’s genre of fragrance that seems to have gone largely out of fashion in recent years. Created in 1984, 50 years after the original Dunhill for Men debuted, Edition is completely different then its legendary forebear. Unlike that pre-War masterpiece, Edition doesn’t emphasize floral notes like iris and jasmine but rather warm spices, wood and the fougere staples oakmoss and vetiver. Dunhill Edition is also a quality fragrance that actually develops as you wear it, unlike so many that promise to do so with an elaborate note pyramids but remain essentially linear, smelling not that much different hours later from when you first sprayed it on. No, Dunhill Edition is a many-layered fragrance in the best traditions of English perfumery, opening with a strong soapy vibe redolent of bergamot, a dry lemon, lavender and oakmoss. The soapiness is definitely less green that that of Van Cleef’s classic Tsar but the two share a similar potent barbershop vibe that can come across as a little heavy on first application. But also like Tsar, Edition begins to soften after the first half hour with a very nice spicey clove note as well as some nutmeg coming to the fore and balanced by refined clary sage, which I always seem to enjoy in my colognes. But Antaeus this is not — the sage is noewhere near as sharp and there are no funky animalic notes in Edition’s composition. Instead, it remains polite and refined, as one might expect from this classy house famed for its fine cigars, with some subtle masculine flowers like carnation and geranium in the mix, as well as tonka bean to sweeten things as it begins to dry down (ironically you’ll find no tobacco in either Dunhill for Men or Edition). In the late stages the vetiver and oakmoss continue to radiate from the base, mingling with a very pleasant fir note that plays off the tonka beautifully.

Cloves

Although often rumored to be discontinued, Dunhill Edition seems readily available and at extremely reasonable prices considering the apparent quality of the ingredients. It can be had for around $30 for 3.4 ounces, a pretty good deal in my book. Along with the original Dunhill for Men, Edition makes a solid addition to any man’s cologne cabinet, particularly those who enjoy timeless classicism rather than chasing trends. Projection is moderate except for that opening blast and sillage is solid but pleasantly diffuse, creating the impression of a well-groomed man not trying too hard to be noticed but nonetheless smelling effortlessly good. You definitely wear this Eau de Toilette-strength juice, it doesn’t wear you. Longevity is a good 6-7 hours depending upon heaviness of application and personally I think the late dry down where you can really smell the woods mingling with the sage and cloves is the best part, which makes Edition a pleasure to wear from beginning to end. I’d say this is more of a daytime wearer, ideal for office or semi-formal social occasions where restraint is appreciated. But if you wore this for an evening out it would’t be the worst thing in the world by a long shot. I also feel like Edition is one of those uncommon true all-year colognes, where the lavender and citrus elements work well in warm weather and the clove and oakmoss shine in colder temps. So if you like the more old school styles of masculine perfumery where there’s not an aquatic, melon or fake ambergris note in sight but you’re not quite in the mood for the knockout 1980s leather power of de la Renta’s Pour Lui or Maxim’s Pour Homme I’d say Dunhill Edition is well worth sampling and perhaps including in your collection. Along with a Saville Row suit and a well-crafted pair of Loake shoes the understated and classy Edition fits right in with any well turned out gentleman’s wardrobe.