New fragrance line: Nasomatto Perfumes reviews

As you might have known if you have been reading PerfumeShrine long enough, this is a blog that aims to pose questions and make you ponder as much as anything. No ready "recipes" or flowery purple prose for the sake of it. So whenever we test something new and considered groundbreaking it is taken with several shakers of salt and what it conveys is really thought out before passing judgement.
As I elaborated on my previous post, much of the perfume world is revolving round the gimmick and the "perceived" value rather than the core definition of quality. So it is with these factors in mind that the Nasomatto line was being evaluated, for the first time in its entirety on any perfume blog, to the best of my knowledge.

Gimmick is too often the last refuge of brilliant advertisers and marketeers who have stumbled upon the block of too many fragrances out there and all competing for the same crowd. The niche world is by definition a smaller audience and to grab its attention some greater effort is required it seems.
For example what line could be more gimmicky that the rather new État Libre d'Orange? With the royally satiric tag line "Perfume is dead, long live perfume!" and with scent names such as Éloge du Traitre (=Praise of a Traitor), Nombrile Immense (=big belly button), the borderline porn smell of Sécretions magnifiques or the more outré still names of Putain de palaces (=palace whore) and Don't get me wrong baby, I don't swallow , the house that is using three Givaudan perfumers is bent on eliciting attention through their ox-feller presentation.

In contrast, Nasomatto Perfumes line is fairly subdued. Of course the manifesto is -predictably- wishing to break the mould and make for distinguished wearers, as you can attest by this:

I take advantage of what you always said about me
I take advantage of your sexual essence
I take advantage of drugs and food
I take advantage of my olfactive memory and trips
I take advantage of mistakes
I take advantage from the Z1
I take advantage of the best raw materials
I give advantage to people longing to distinguish themselves

The masterminds are both italian, Allesandro and Arturetto, who had been students in Germany at the H&R company for courses in "medieval" perfumery. We're told that Allesandro was taught by Arturetto and then went on to create fragrances for designers such as Romeo Gigli, Versace, Valentino, Helmut Lang and Fendi, finally locating in Amsterdam and re-uniting with Arturetto to launch his private vision: a line of his own niche perfumes, called Nassomato.

The line, comprised of 5 fragrances, is characterised by its heavy, fun, loud and individual style that isn't afraid to take risks and produce potent stuff. For what it's worth I think that there is a thin line between heavy and too heavy. And although much of the scented products of today fall into the inspid, too light, too fleeting camp which might generate continual re-spritzing and thus elevated consumption per ml, it does leave the consumer with a sense of wasting money down the drain, as ultimately they complain about the lack of sillage and staying power of scents compared to older classics. The tenacity of modern perfumes is usually achieved through synthetic enhancers and those leave something to be desired for as invariably the bases used are predictable and not as rich and nuanced as those of yore. In Nasomatto, the staying power is quite good for most of the fragrances in the line and it has to do with the high concentration of the juice as well: extrait de parfum in bottles capped with a square arhictectural wooden cap.
What is also noteworthy is that contrary to most lines, they absolutely do not issue notes for their perfumes, which can be a double-ended sword: good, because it leaves the consumer judge for what he/she smells per se and not what is led to believe is in there; and bad because -let's face it- so much of the niche fragrance buying is happening online, unsniffed, by people who wouldn't have access to such perfumes otherwise, who yet love being individual and so often it is such a disappointing experience to proceed in such a way...

So in the interests of helping along, here is what PerfumeShrine thought of each and every one of them:

Duro: Per the company blurb "the fragrance aims to enhance all the manifestations of male strength". Duro means strong and durable in italian and indeed this masculine scent with guts aims to hit bull's eye and not veer off the course for a second. It is bracing, leathery, with a character of strong affinities. I seem to detect patchouli and hints of grassy coffee in there which make for a dry and potent mix. It demands a wearer with some personality to carry it off, yet I can see that it is very modern and not something that could have been issued 2 or 3 decades before. It does not develop too much retaining the tonalities of the starting point well into the drydown.

Hindu Grass: This -to my nose- unisex scent "aims to breathe the belief in universal peace and love. It is the result of a quest for the warm affection of humanity". Of course it might require much more for universal peace and love, yet the fragrance blends what seems to be a very hippy-ish amount of herbs and grasses that smell dry, pleasant and lightly cooling, fit for any season. There is a hint of mint to my nose and it intermingles with other herbal notes and possibly some ionones to instill a sense of playful, serene walks in woods or grassy knolls, reading a book in the shade, cooling off with a glass of green tea.

Narcotic Venus: As its name suggests this is patently feminine, "the result of a quest for the overwhelming addictive intensity of female sexual power" and as one might surmiss is based on that most narcotic and potent flower of them all: tuberose. It marries to some other floral essences of a white nature which are not discernible per se and the sillage is loud and strong for those who have Fracas and Carnal Flower affinities and proclaiments. Venus it is and at its most predatory, on top. I suggest you proceed with caution, but if it fits it can be a great weapon in your arsenal.

Absinth: "The fragrance aims to evoke degrees of hysteria. It is the result of a quest to stimulate irresponsible behaviour" is what the company tells us. And frankly I cannot see why this would produce anything like hysteria, as it is a wonderful fragrance full of bittersweet notes of herbs, earthy pungent vetiver, possibly angelica or wormwood and some sweet element of vanillic florancy in there that accounts for the most delectable semi-gourmand effect possible. If this is how a modern aromatic gourmand should be made, then I'm all for it. It proved to be a favourite from the line, although I obviously liked a couple more and I can see how men and women alike who go for something individual would go for it. It lasts well, has a more subtle effect upon putting it on and then develops nicely and warm to the skin retaining its properties for a long long time. A winner!

Silver Musk: "The fragrance aims to evoke superhero magnetism. It is the result of a quest for mercurial liquid love sensation". Or so they say. For once more I am going to dispute part of the advertorial and say that this is a lovable very approachable clean musk with egyptian tendencies that on my skin was a bit close to the wonderful, elusive and very expensive Narciso Musk for her oil by Narciso Rodriguez, although not as gorgeous. They both seem to utilise the same synthesized musks that account for a cuddly, clean, erotic undertow that makes people approach a little closer and lean over wondering what is that magical spell that has gotten them entangled in your web. If you like that sort of ambience, you couldn't go wrong with Silver Musk. Possibly the easiest in the bunch and with good lasting power.

The company has their own site: click for the official Nasomatto site.
The line is available at First in Fragrance/Aus liebe zum Duft for now. Click here to sample/order. Each Nasomatto sample costs 4 euros and you can order a minimum of 15 euros just for samples on the FIF site.

They come in Extrait de Parfum in 30ml/1oz for 90 euros each.


And for those who comment on this post, we have proclaimed a little LUCKY DRAW!. Three SAMPLES of our choosing to go to them FREE of charge, so they can experience for themselves the new Nasomatto line. Just post a comment that you want to enter the lucky draw and you're in.
I will notify you about the lucky winner very soon.

Pic of bottle comes from First in Fragrance. Absinth glass pic courtesy of Wikipedia.

Perfume: gimmick or innovation? And at what price?

A closeted skeleton in the cupboard of perfume business world is price. Actual retail price. And the relevance that it has to the spectrum of factors that determine it.

Of course perfume creation entails many things to consider: costly and not so costly raw materials, perfumer outsourcing (the houses that produce scents use perfumers who invariably work for one of the Big Companies: IFF, Givaudan Roure, Quest, Haarmar & Reimer , Dragoco, Takasago), laboratory experimentation and all that entails (discarded batches, work hours paid to technicians, etc), creative, marketing and PR team budget, packaging and advertising costs, copyright legal clauses. It is difficult, I can tell you!
Even niche companies that work outside the umbrella process just described often have to account for some of the above factors.

However how much of this reflects on the actual quality of the jus? Is price a real indication of quality? Or is it irrelevant of that?
Let’s ponder on this for a while.

Too often among people who occupy themselves with perfume as a hobby there is the prevalent notion that products that cost a lot must be in some form superior to those that are considered inexpensive. The old dictum “I’m not rich enough to buy cheap” is still considered good advice in buying. I remember it was the domineering attitude among women of a previous generation here when they went out shopping for clothes, leather goods and other comparable items: they opted for something seemingly expensive which they assumed would last longer, perform better and give them a sense of decency and class. I certainly agree on those merits if we’re talking about the above goods.
Nevertheless the latest trend is “luxury for all” in the whole industrialized western world translating in good quality objects for relatively affordable prices and this is something that is dear to my heart. I think it is one step ahead of the new money penchant for exhibiting vulgar displays of wealth.
But is it relevant when talking about fragrance?

The issue of raw materials is pivotal to my mind if we are to seriously discuss this. Much as with cosmetics and skincare products, what is contained in the jar or pot is what ultimately makes the crucial difference. If you find yourself reading the ingredients list of Crème de la Mer with its up till some years ago exorbitant price ~ over 130$ for 1oz ~ (and I’m saying “up till some years ago”, because in the last 6-7 years most of the skincare market has gone after its way) you find yourself face to face with mineral oil, thickeners and some algae. Which can be easily had at the drugstore for a mere 99 cents (that is the price of the Nivea cream which is comparable in texture, moisturizing properties and overall feel, per consumers on MUA)!
L’oréal was ahead of the trends when they invested their vast experience and technical expertise on mass-market lines such as Garnier and Plénitude, sold at the shelves of drugstores and supermarkets, using comparable innovations as those used in their upmarket lines such as Rubinstein and Lancôme. The result? The products fly off the shelves in record time and they also win prizes for both ends of the price spectrum for the same amount of research (enter the recent Prix d’Excellence awards bestowed by European journalists regarding their innovative dermo-adaptive molecule used in both Vichy and Lancôme skincare). They’re clearly on to something!
Now I ask again: does this same practice pertain to perfume?

Apparently too often in our modern era perfume ingredients come astoundingly cheap and astoundingly uniform across lines: since it’s usually the same exact Big Companies who produce perfumes for high and low end houses, it is too often the case that a perfume by –say- X prestige brand is also using the majority of ingredients of Y celebrity frag (I’m using the latter reference as celebrity-endorsed scents are too often regarded with disdain among perfume lovers as being “cheap” and not desirable products capitalizing on a passing infatuation with said celebrity ~ which mind you, I’m not 100% disagreeing with!).
All too often they’re manufactured by the same noses/perfumers too! A comparative search is very telling!

So what is so different that validates the difference in retail price, the distribution channel and the consequent expression of elation on the average recipient’s face of such a perfumed gift? (Because surely you have seen some marked difference when you present someone with something from Dior vs. something from Stetson, right?).

For some reason there is an addendum to perfume.
Maybe exactly because it is still something of a mystery: its practices, its ingredients, its way of being composed is not completely revealed to the public. There is a list of some ingredients on the box of perfumes as of lately, but those are simply some of those that are purported to be in danger of skin sensitizing or triggering allergies, hence their inclusion under the newest laws. It is by no means a conclusive list of contents.
And here is where advertising, packaging and marketing enter the equation.

The collective subconscious is coaxed to buy into a myth, especially if we’re talking about big brands and houses with history and pedigree behind them. And indeed many aspects of that myth are beautifully incorporated into the presentation of perfume. Consider the immortal quote of Coco Chanel “A woman without perfume has no future”, or Patou’s campaign for Joy “the costliest perfume in the world”. Or the rich history of Guerlain with the anecdotal stories behind many of their creations, such as the Jicky tale about the young English girl that the son fell hopelessly in love with, the Shalimar tale of the Indian love-affair in the gardens, the 1001 Nights tale behind the creation of Nahéma or the tragic love-story inspired by a novel for the grand Mitsouko.
The fawning over perfume advertising –of which I am no less guilty than most- is also testament to this.
The beautiful flacons are contributing in turn to impulse purchases or calculated decisions from people who are very bent on the visual. Many times the outer cast of something has lied to us about the contents, so we buy the exquisite bottle for it to be displayed for our artistic delectation rather than used for its contents. This is where the limited editions and Baccarat collectibles work so well and will continue to be produced for this exact reason: man (and woman) is a highly visual-oriented animal.

There is also something called concept and conceptual artistic merit (you can click here and here for some insight on what I think). This comes more into play with niche brands, as the big houses are in their vast majority producing press releases that invariably view perfume as a means of seduction or at the very least presentable “package” of the wearer to his/her intended audience.
Niche houses on the contrary have taken steps into bypassing this somehow contained notion by expanding the reasons one might opt for wearing a particular perfume: asserting one’s true personality, invoking olfactory landscapes, sourcing long-forgotten memories, intellectualizing olfaction or even creating a distance and introspective mood that is meant only for the wearer to enjoy ~the olfactory equivalent of an I-pod and headphones on the subway: a modern urban shield from the outer world.
The practice has been explored in various degrees by several niche houses: Lutens with his Arabic tradition concept, F.Malle with his collection of auteurs who produce only what they deem worthy themselves, the pleiad of Natural Perfumers who insist on using their natural essences in a way that is ecologically sound and artistically in tune with the universe, Comme des Garcons with their completely iconoclastic anti-perfumes meant to shock and make you think, Gaubin Daude, Tauer, L’artisan parfumeur, Ormonde Jayne, you name it…They all have tried to give a voice to a vision in their minds and remain consistent with that instead of trying to be all things to all people the way big houses and designer fragrances usually are.
Yet do they all succeed? And are their prices justified by those two tokens mentioned: innovation of vision and raw materials? It seems to me that the answer cannot be a simple blanket one. There are as many nuances in the niche world as there are in products of conglomerates and big Luxury Groups. Some do have better quality than others, some do have a more concrete vision than others and I can see how that might influence a preference and predisposition of looking forward to their latest releases.

This is what ultimately makes decision so difficult and testing of such paramount importance. Because deep down, you know that no matter how much something is praised by perfume connoisseurs or how beautiful the adverts looks or how prestige the brand and name sound, you have to really like it yourself to be able to wear it and enjoy it to the last dregs of a real retailed-price purchased whole bottle (no steals and bargains missy, we’re watching you!).
And if you repurchase, then it is really something to celebrate about: you have found a winner! Bravo!



Top pic originally uploaded on MUA but have since had trouble locating her username. If you do know it, let me know, I think it is brilliant!
Pic of Baldini and Grenouille characters from film "Perfume: story of a murderer" courtesy of Ohnotheydidnt/Livejournal.com.

Ipanema and A la figue by Satellite: fragrance reviews

Sometimes one comes across some special people who are kind, generous, lovely. And on some rare occassions it so happens that those special people are also "perfume people", aromaphiles. I have known a few of those and they have sent me wonderful, rare things to try out, of which I am going to continue reporting in the future for your delectation.
One especially lovely lady known for her tremendous generosity gifted me with an assorted bag of goodies that included two of the new Satellites, I had talked about before: Ipanema and A la figue. She is deeply thanked for the sniffa experience.
So without further ado, my impressions of the two.

Ipanema named after the infamous brazilian beach between Leblon and Arpoador in Rio de Janeiro is imbued in Curacao shades of an endless turqouise, clear like a jewel made of blue topaz. The colour alone is making this enchanting to look at and enticing to put on. The official notes list ylang ylang, orange, grapefruit, freesia, sandalwood, coconut, white flowers, tonka bean, vanilla, sea accord and patchouli.
Now coconut has never been a very favourite perfume note of mine, because of the association I get with those dreaded pine-cardboard things dangling from the mirrors of derelict taxis, swaying their way across the national routes on your way from a rural airport to the point of your vacation destination on a white rock island. For some uncanny reason, most of my similar itineraries have been branded by this same memory, taxi driver always kind and offering tips and quips about the vacation spot to be visited, often also chain-smoking. Yet the permeating coconut scent of the pine decoration diverting my attention. Luckily, this all happened during the summer, when windows are rolled way down, when the nature is simmering under the hot brazing sun and the herbs of the field sing their own Pan-flute tune. The greek paysage smells nothing like coconut, to be sure. This pertains to far more tropical destinations, such as the one invoked by the mention of Brazil and Ipanema, of course. So I can see why the inclusion.
The coconut is quite pronounced which will satisfy people with a craving for the exotic and coupled with copious amounts of ylang ylang it takes the whole into a place of abandon to the sensuality of physical pleasures. You have to make sure that your wax is perfect and your bikini is brazilian-worthy-tiny, or at least cultivate that fantasy in your mind like the best of Heffner wannabes want you to do.
Regardless, the fragrance alone can get you to a place that looks like a technicolour movie of the 50s starring Elvis but underneath the dark mantle of earthy patchouli, as the scent progresses on skin, reminds you that this is the country of the favelas.(for a quick definition click here) A place of a wide divide: between the rich and the poor, the superficial and the meaningful, the facade and the core. Ipanema the fragrance, although not aiming for such meaningful elucidations, is adequatelly bringing the two into the fore.

A la figue, another Satellite new scent, also uses coconut as a fragrance note, although it is not officially mentioned. The playfull name that etches itself on both the figue(french for fig) and the fugue (depart, as in travel or daydreaming I like to imagine)caught my attention and the association of figs is very greek-like to me, as it is often the case that large fig trees are scattered across the fields and yards of properties imbuing the air with their dusty, creamy aroma that promises langorous days of summer, figs consumed after a dip in the big blue sea, washed and peeled under the tree and consumed with wild hunger after the swim, the dark red sticky juice marring hands, lips, caftans over bikins and assorted paraphernalia necessary for a day spent in the great ourdoors. It is no coincidence that L'artisan's Premier Figuier is one of my summer staples, as it evokes all those endearing associations in my mind of which I often partook as a child and even as a grown-up.

Figs have an interesting story behind them. As fig of the genus ficus is translated as "sūkon/syco" in greek, it was the proud export of the land of Attica, the broader land around the city state of Athens. In light of the trade significance of figs, which were prized all around the ancient world for their nourishing and medicinal properties, it was forbidden to pluck them out without licence or to trade them. However, human nature being what it is throughtout the millenia, there were still people who broke the law and took figs, especially from the holy fig trees beside temples, which bore a copious crop. Pretty soon there were people who took it as their task to report those violators, the informers or "sycophantes", deriving from sūkon phainein, to show a fig (sūkon, fig + phainein, to show). Of course, noble as the reporting was at the start, it soon transpired that it might bear a wonderful chance to carry out personal vendettas between enemies: if one hated someone else and had a grudge against them, what easier way to instill harm than to report them as stealing the figs from the trees? And this is where the whole "dicanic" tradition of ancient greece is based on, but this is perhaps the subject of another post.
In Latin times, the word lost its initial meaning, gaining the mantle of "a servile self-seeker who attempts to win favor by flattering influential people" according to Webster's. And thus it entered the english language. Ah, but the fig had its revenge here at last. And what an influential fruit it has been, being also mentioned in the Gospels (mentioned here in reference to Holy Monday) and the proverbial garb of the modest in Paradise.

The creaminess of the initial opening in A la Figue is redolent of the milky sap of actual fig fruit, the way they are a little unripe at first, sqeezed to produce a whitish milk juice that is a skin irritant (you have been warned!). Very soon, the greeness of notes that give an air of leaves and the bark enter, underscored all the while by the slightly vanillic coconut hint of the fruit peel and compliment the whole with their earthy aroma of wood and earth that reminds one of the might fig trees swaying in the wind. In this aspect it is quite close to Premier Figuier, perhaps a little more coconuty. It lasts on the skin sensually with an earthy quality that is classy and succulent and I can see it as great supplement to a summer wardrobe for people who love woody and creamy smells. A wonderful new addition!


Pic of coconut courtesy of oriflame.com, figs by DWSPL/T.Scott from dwpicture.com/au

Bianco by Trussardi: fragrance review

Trussardi launched Bianco, a limited edition fragrance for women by well-known nose Alberto Morillas, last summer in Europe but I only got to try it recently.

"Bianco": italian for white... And oh, how greek the colour white seems to me, nevertheless.
In a land of hot rock and azure sea like no other, white is the emblem of the Aegean houses scattered on the slopes of bare islands, asbestos on the outside, human "fire" burning in the inside.
One island in particular will always remain in my memory as the quintessential white place: Santorini or Thera, as it is also called; the island of legend of Atlantis and reality, intermingled in volcanic eruptions producing black sand, little wineries and archaological digs like no other place on earth.
If you want to feast your eye on white, on the pure kind that reflects the light scorching your retinas, burning your skin and filling your soul with the longing of an ancient whisper flying in the wind, look no further. As the sun dips down in breathtaking beauty tourists from all over the world clap their hands in awe, sitting on cool verandas etched on the edge of the deepest existing caldera on the planet, sipping long drinks in a langorous mood fit for such a slow-paced existence, white linen clothes breezing in the wind.


If you do want to see it immortalised in film, go rent Lara Croft Tomb Raider 2: Cradle of Life or for those more romantically inclined The Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants or Summer Lovers, all shot in part on the white island. Which might give you ideas...
And if you ever, just once in your lifetime, find yourself to be blessed to be able to set foot on this mystical place, invest in this small boutique hotel for VIPs that will remain indelible in your heart of hearts forever. (seriously, just click on the photos...then you tell me)

The new Trussardi perfume does not evoke such gloriousness however, despite its suitability to the sensibilities of a greek lazy summer spent on a small island. Bianco is said to evoke the feeling of Trussardi Skin, a claim that I am not inclined to dispute although the two do not share more than a passing similarity that can be attributed to their skin-like scent and the way they meld on the individual upon application. However Skin is more distinctive, while in Bianco the white musk of the base lingers to the exclusion of all else in the later dry down. The opening is lightly fruity and has a watery floral element that smoothes its way on the skin, to leave behind a hint of a peppery interlay of warmth and cool that soon exits.
The initial grapefruit note is nothing like the tart opening of cheeky upstarts like In love again or Baby Doll, nor the watery ambience of cool egyptian royal attendants of Un Jardin sur le Nil.Here it is temptered and smoothed out to the point that it loses its characteristic tang and bittery rind quality, a fact that could be lamentable. The lasting power of the mid notes is average and while the drydown does present a lingering impression, it is more evident on a blotter than on actual human skin. It is suited to summer in warm climates, but it would wither not blooming its full potential in winter, I'm afraid.
Notes: pink grapefruit, water lily, gooseberry, magnolia, white pepper, woods, amber and musk.

Trussardi Bianco comes in 30 and 75 ml Eau de Toilette, available at european Sephoras.

Pics of Imerovigli in Santorini courtesy of George Meis/eu.art.com

Fahrenheit 32 by Dior: fragrance review

Why was this new men's scent baptised with this weird name? Well, for starters, there was the classic fragrance Fahrenheit by Dior that erupted into the scene in 1988 with all the gusto of an iconoclast along with its female counterpart Dune.
And then, it is exactly 32 degress Fahrenheit that water freezes: equivalent of 0 degrees in the Celsius scale.

This scaling system is quite fascinating if one takes into account another classic of sorts, of a more profound level perhaps: that of the printed word. The dystopian science fiction by Ray Bradbury called "Fahrenheit 451", in which the author describes a future american society that wrapped up in sybaritic living and anti-intellectual tendencies abhors books and goes on to burn them.

The protagonist, Ray Montag, is the very witty antithesis of His Girl Friday of the famous classic era movie, especially since in true german spirit (physicist Daniel Gabriel Fahrenheit was German) "Mondag" means "Monday". And yes, this novel has also been filmed.
Fahrenheit 451 on the other hand is the point of auto-ignition of paper...Semantics, semantics.
For some dark, pessimistic reason I am quite convinced that the state of affairs in the world currently do not distance us too much from this nightmarish Orwellian vision. But perhaps I am digressing.

To revert to the "frozen" aspect of this quite cooler Fahrenheit, mes amis, as you might have surmissed by now, this new offering is what is affectionately called a "flanker": a perfume that follows up the successful anion bearing a variation of the name; yet usually either having nothing whatsoever in common with the genetic pool of the former or alternatively featuring a very slight variation of it, questioning the purpose of its existence apart from the boost that it would bring to the sales of both.
Fahrenheit 32 places itself in the first category. It bears little similarity to the classic fragrance and is intended as a tribute to the synthesized orange blossom that has been explored in men's scent recently also by the wonderful Fleur dy Mâle by Gaultier, reviewed just a little while ago. (click here for full review)
Designed by now former artistic director Heidi Slimane with the collaboration François Demachy it has been concocted by nose Louise Turner of Quest.

The general direction is one of a fresh oriental-woody that intermingles piquant aldehydic touches with orange blossom, light smooth vanilla, and what smells to my nose as delicate synthetic musks. The earthiness and slighty dirty appeal of vetiver does not come to the fore, despite its graceful way of making fragrances cool in every sense of the word.
The description goes like this: fresh top notes, orange blossom and vetiver for the hear nnotes, vanilla and solar notes for the base.
Indeed the freshness is akin to a cooling spray, which is implied by the white bottle that takes the classic one of original Fahrenheit to a new techno trip under strobo lights. It's opalescence and smooth milky texture reminded me a lot of the woman's Pure Poison, which I think is not coincidental, as that too is also based on the same synthesized orange blossom note and delivers itself with a freshness that pierces the nostrils for a while.

Compared to Fleur du Mâle it is not much further apart, yet in a way that one captured me more and retained my interest more avidly. Fahrenheit 32 is very likeable and on the scent strip lingers nicely making one to sniff and resniff to consolidate the memory, but a classical masculine fragrance it can never pose to be. It's again a little too feminine for its own good, which makes it fodder for either adventurous guys or the girlfriends who I am sure will fall under its charms.


Top pic In search of the unicorn by bigbird3/flickr
Pic of fahrenheit 451 by Wikipedia