Calvin Klein Obsession for Men: fragrance review

Back in the old days, when Calvin Klein was a bona fide designer house and the fragrances weren't made by Coty, the churning of smells was set on the decidedly loud end of the spectrum, and on the rather creative side as well. This was the decade of Dallas and Dynasty, of shoulder pads that pushed you over on the ladder to the corporate top, when women started to bring back home the bacon in earnest ("and fry it on a pan") and when the tip-toeing of perfume wearing in public spaces was only considered far-fetched dystopian sci-fi.

Obsession (for women, 1985) and Obsession for men (1986) were the natural products of such a period. Loud, brash, gold jewelry statement, knock-your-socks-off scents, full of the inherited warmth of their French counterparts (the success of the Opium perfume by Yves Saint Laurent fresh on the collective memory), but very American in their stylized presentation. And who could forget those infamous advertisements with the naked bodies standing atop a hammock in black and white, shot by Bruce Weber? Ann Gottlieb, creative director for Klein fragrances and responsible for countless commercial hits for countless brands, had demanded "sexy with a touch of raunchiness" and possibly, as it has been argued, got the balance reversed. But that's not a bad thing.

The person credited with the creation of Obsession for Men, a certain Robert Slattery, unaccredited for anything else, got the raunchy and sexy in spades by relying on the tension between trustworthy materials: mandarin on top contrasting with warm amber on the bottom, nutmeg and cinnamon spicing it up, giving a certain piquancy which recalls a man-made space somewhere in the late 80s, early 90s; gregarious, evening-time, where people smoke and drink freely, and where confident men in lots of aftershave prowl for the casual encounters of the evening, their own clean sweat mingled with the adrenaline of the flirting. It was a happier time, a less controlled time, and a time when anything seemed possible. Or, perhaps, it was a time when we felt ready for anything.

Obsession for Men in its current format feels watered down and lacking that density which sealed its unmistakable presence, but it still is a great trip down memory lane.

Hermes Eau d'Hermes: Thoughts on Revisiting a Classic

Choosing an Hermès fragrance is, to me, an embarrasement of riches. The brand is among my very favorites for several reasons; most important of all is that their axiom of effortless luxury is very simpatico to my own aesthetic values. I love so many of their fragrant canon...In the end if put into the position to choose, I have to distill the exercise into a search for clarity. In that field, two clear contestants came head and shoulders above: Terre d'Hermès and the original Eau d'Hermès. After all the latter is advertised as being "l'eau de la terre d'Hermès depuis 1951" (i.e. Hermes's essence since 1951)

They're both unexacting on the wearer, feeling like lucid impressionistic creations that manage to be abstract without coming across as maudlin, nor conspicuous. In the ensuing bras de fer the progenitor rose triumphant in those stakes, even though the child, Terre, is stellar on its own merits. Eau d'Hermès for the ride then!

This old creation from 1951 was a composition by the legendary perfumer Edmond Roudnitska, and since such a huge part of the Hermès modern legacy has been composed by Roudnitska's magnificent pupil, master perfumer Jean Claude Ellena, it was long due to pay respects to the fountain that brought forth such scented marvels. Additionally, Ellena has overseen the perfectly decent modern reformulation of the vintage composition with his customary attention to detail; a feat in today's world of watered-down reformulations that leave new perfumephiliacs in a query as to what we, rather more seasoned aficionados, see in the monuments of the past.

Eau d'Hermès is predominantly a fresh and the same time sensuous scent for both sexes, with emphasis on both qualities. Nowadays these might seem mutually exclusive, but they definitely are not by default; it's culturally imposed to view them so. The inspiration couldn't have been more Hermès if it tried: the soft insides of a luxurious leather handbag where a spicy citrus mingles with the odor of fine leather. The important addition of cardamom, a "cold" spice which pairs exceptionally well with both leather and citruses, and which gives a cool feeling of freshness alongside the spiciness, is pre-empting several of Ellena's spicy arpeggios, inclusive or exclusive of Hermès fragrances.

At the time of writing, Eau d'Hermes has ONLY 4 PEOPLE naming it as a signature scent on a popular database of millions of viewers, which I think must be a record for a scent from a major fragrance house. It's high time more people talked about Eau d'Hermès and tried it on for good measure. I hope my update accomplishes that and ensures a continued production of this silent strong type of a scent.

Related reading on PerfumeShrine:

Edmond Roudnitska, the creator of perfume masterpieces, a tribute
Interviews and tributes to fragrance industry creators

Paco Rabanne Pour Homme: fragrance review

Paco Rabanne has been the green giant looming on the bath sill of many a bathroom in my country of origin in the 1970s and 1980s. This classic fougère has marked a generation, alongside best-sellers Drakkar Noir and Aramis, not to forget Azzaro pour Home; with a scent that has come to characterize maleness. In the case of Paco Rabanne pour Homme the underlying brutishness is there, but the sophisticated veneer and the hint of sweetness makes it friendlier than any of the others.

Like any classic fougère the abstractness of Paco Rabanne pour Homme tries to replicate a feeling, an impression, rather than an actual smell. The fern from which the fragrance family takes the name (in homage to the 19th century Fougère Royale fragrance by Houbigant discussed above) is more like the green tentacles of soapy leatheriness of the barbershop than anything anyone would actually meet in a forest. Ferns don't smell much after all. The fougère is a man-made smell rather than an approximation of the natural.

The soapy overlay of Paco Rabanne pour Homme makes it exceptionally attuned to that prerequisite of any masculine fragrance that aims for wide appeal: a sense of cleanliness, though not entirely ersatz thanks to the familiar recollection of lavender essence; but at the same time a man-made product for sure. It's an entirely inedible smell, alternatively cool and warm, gaining warmth in the drydown thanks to an ambery note, always forceful despite the hint of honeyed softness, the hallmark of any good representative in the fougère genre. Some things are not to be trifled with.

The newer version alas does not live up to the old one, but it's still something that needs to be visited in order to appreciate how steadfast a classic fougère can be. It's how fathers should smell like, a scent of dependency and safety.

A Taste for Rhubarb: Modern Incarnations of an Older Idea

Although rhubarb may sound totally contemporary, classical stuff like Ma Griffe by Carven has hinted at the tart juiciness in the context of a "green scent" in order to give a little mouthwatering taste alongside the pluck your lips bitterness. In fact rhubarb shares olfactory facets with rose and berries (another trendy note) therefore its inclusion in fragrant compositions comes easily enough. It also pairs beautifully with jasmine and tuberose which is a distinct plus.

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Several years ago the Renaissance of rhubarb note started, however and today it is quite popular - in the niche segment at least most certainly. In the mainstream previous attempts at incorporating a rhubarb note were not met with great success: Burberry Brit Red, Alexander McQueen Kingdom, and Hugo Red by Hugo Boss were all commercial flops; some quite undeservedly indeed.

A slew of brands issued rhubarb notes in the interim with varying intensity and dare: Comme des Garcons Series 5 Rhubarb (which is very fruity and candied), Ricci Ricci, 4711 Aqua di Colonia Rhubarb & Clary Sage, Guerlain Homme Intense, and the Aedes de Venustas eponymous eau de parfum with its bold spicy basil and smoky incense context.

But the highlight into the public consciousness probably came with Hermès’s Eau de Rhubarbe Écarlate (review coming up); a fragrance that took the unusual note into central focus cutting it with a laser beam and flanking it with soft musks that would please the consumer into a false sense of familiarity. The trick worked. Suddenly everyone was crazy for rhubarb!

Of course Hermès had dabbled their hand in rhubarb before; the footnote in Rose Ikebana in the boutique exclusive line Hermessences was notable and created by Jean Claude Ellena who loves tart and saline effects in perfumery.

If Hermès was quirky and defiant enough to showcase the vegetable in the advertising images though, Cartier's La Panthère was the major feminine perfume which featured rhubarb notes unashamedly in a posh and chic context. It seemed to go down well so creators were becoming bolder.

The "Rhubarb leaf" in the recently launched Mugler Aura is a chord based on the long familiar and widely used material called styralyl acetate, or gardenol; its tartness is a good aesthetic match for rendering a shimmery effect in a gourmand composition. Kokorico by Night (Gaultier) is a lighter interpretation with cooler hesperidia as a counterpoint.

The new Champ des Fleurs (L'Artisan Parfumeur) is another testament to the power of vegetal notes lending freshness to contemporary compositions. The crunchy texture of rhubarb is something that should pair well in that context.

On the other hand the evocation of gardens is going well in the advertorials of Lovely Garden (Oriflame) and White Lilac & Rhubarb (Jo Malone). Nevertheless the former is more of a creamy and delicious compote of fresh rhubarb dressed in milk rather than anything green as implied by its design and naming. It's really something which anyone who is hesitant of rhubarb should try out; they'd be faced with a very surprised nose! Malone's rendering is more traditionally English garden with the tart interplay of rhubarb providing an anchor to the watery and heliotrope-like softness of the lilacs. It's a vignette out of an afternoon in the countryside.

Rhubarb only sounds weird in a fragrance till you try it. Like with many other things in life.