As a child I spent a few summer holidays in a small town in the south of France in the mid 70s. There I probably received some scent experiences that I stored in my subconscious, because a few years later, when I started to be interested in scents and wanted to choose one myself, some of them seemed surprisingly familiar.
It was clear to me that I did not want to wear these scents in any case, as they reminded me of the older men from Avignon, Montpellier and that small city Millau.
I, on the other hand, wanted to smell young, fashionable, not like these French men, who are 'ancient' from a child's point of view (in Germany at that time, people did not yet wear a fragrance as a matter of course, at most an aftershave lotion...).
So it finally became 'Antaeus', which I could smell on every corner in Paris shortly afterwards.
Much later, I also learned to appreciate the fragrances of my childhood: as I finally discovered, they were 'Eau Sauvage', 'Equipage', Guerlain's 'Vetiver' and Yves-Saint Laurent's 'Pour Homme'.
My relationship with them relaxed in exactly this order, although I must admit that the latter, Yves-Saint Laurent's 'Pour Homme', is still a difficult fragrance for me.
Sometimes I think it's great: the sunny freshness, the juicy, tart lemon, the aromatic mint, the strong, earthy-moossy base - like the rough, coarse brother of the much smoother, more civilized 'Pour Monsieur' by Chanel.
But then, when during the middle course of the fragrance, this strange animal note that so clearly characterizes this fragrance blossoms, I think: what's the point? Who needs it?
The scent would be so beautiful, so classically beautiful without an animal!
But well, the animal is there, and I'm afraid it should be exactly where it is: in the middle of the scent. Because Pour Homme is Pour Homme, not Pour Monsieur. And this 'Homme' isn't like that either - look at the now iconic advertising photo with the completely naked Yves himself! - dressed in fine thread, freshly shaved and parted, no, this 'Homme' wears stubbly beard, long hair, horn-rimmed glasses and nothing else - except of course this scent!
And yes, even when freshly showered or washed (they didn't shower all the time back then) it smells a little bit - like man.
Fragrances like 'Jules', 'Yatagan' and even more so 'Kouros' have taken up exactly this again and emphasized it even more clearly - the man who sometimes more, sometimes less quietly animalistic in his scent and, at least for noses of the time, also smells rather erotic.
But wait, what do you mean 'animalistic'?
Cibet? No. Castoreum? No. Ambregris? No. Musk? No.
Animalistic? Actually, no
But where does this dirty note come from?
In any event, the notes citron, petit grain, menthe, patchouli, mousse de chene indicated on the bottle are not responsible.
If one searches for other pyramids mentioned for this fragrance, quite different notes are sometimes mentioned: in addition to those already mentioned, lavender, sage, marjoram, thyme, rosemary, rosewood, cedar and vetiver.
I find marjoram and thyme particularly interesting here. Who often cooks with fresh herbs and removes the small leaves from the stalks, knows these earthy-dark, somehow dirty undertones which accompany the typical aroma. When cooking they disappear again, but freshly grated between the hands they are overly obvious.
Aha, not animalistic after all, at least not animalistic, rather a kind of vegetable animalistic - which is a contradiction in terms. But even vegetable aromas do not always smell pleasant, but sometimes piss (sage) or sweaty (cumin). Marjoram and thyme also belong to these herbs with dubious scent facets - here, however, they tend to faecalize.
Sounds awful, doesn't it? But it's not.
At least not for me. Whereby - as I said - it took me a long time until I could bear this rough aroma breeze.
I'm not talking about 'wear' yet, just 'bear'!
I used to think he was really horrible. Even when I discovered my love for the 70s fragrances a few years later, Pour Homme was still a no-go. Yatagan' and 'Azzaro pour Homme' went, although they both had a rather obscene and anal leg note, but not the scent of YSL.
And to this day, I still find this mixture of fresh chypre with a tart and aromatic heart, to say the least, needs getting used to.
I have a similar experience with 'Para Hombre/Pour Homme' from Loewe. A fragrance that follows a very, very similar concept, whereby the herbaceous aromas are not so dirty here.
Neither of them is really portable. I'd rather have the Leo scent than YSL's. On the other hand, they smell great, but somehow time-bound, like stapled in the early 70s. Eau Sauvage' on the other hand is completely timeless - at least for me.
Pour Homme', however, beams me back to the south of France every time I was just 11/12 years old, no longer a child or adolescent, and the men I met often wore these heavy herbaceous scents - but no deodorant, which melted into a confusing amalgam.
Perhaps the day will come when I will be able to wear 'Pour Homme' as a matter of course. Who knows. I have learned to wear 'Kouros' - in homeopathic doses...
I'll pass for now.
If my memory doesn't deceive me, the latest version is quite close to the original version.
Shelf life and projection are enormous for a citric chypre, which is probably due to the aromas mentioned.
Top Notes 
Heart Notes 
Base Notes 
Katzevogel
