12/12/2015
ColinM
516 Reviews
ColinM
2
The deadly gust of British countryside!
As a longtime fan of classic British horror movies produced by Hammer, Amicus or Tigon, I’ve always lived with a sort of “mythical” imaginary of the British countryside - permanently foggy, rainy, unwelcoming, with small shabby cottages and ghastly antique boutiques where everyone looks like Peter Cushing or the Shadmock from “The Monster Club”. Well, this little gem by James Bronnley I acquired by a complete casual chance, is the closest, most vibrant thing to all that world I’ve ever smelled. It has them all: while being apparently a very traditional citrus-herbal “barbershop” cologne, it has an impressive feel of dusty-camphorous decadence, impeccably blended with a distinguished smell of powdery moss, grass, aromatic herbs, vetiver and a nondescript, quite bold sort of “damp wood” feel (I think due to moss again, infused with something resembling to chamomile or sunflower), and a top accord of greenish citrus and neroli – which isn’t really “zesty” or particularly fresh, rather more bitter, dry, slightly floral and creamy.
Besides being exceedingly compelling and elegant, the overall feel is just quite more bizarre and puzzling for me, and surely I wouldn’t really associate this fragrance to summer. It may be just me, but I get a very dense feel of grayness, of dusty “countryside” mossiness, definitely something more autumnal for me. Think of entering a shabby cottage and catch a whiff of the inside – the smells of musty dust, cracked damp furniture, dry soaps, old books, cider dripping out of a cracked glass, the dapper landlord lying murdered on the stairs. Basically what many would refer to as an “old man” fragrance – and by “old” I would mean here two, three thousands years old. It’s a spooky and amazingly fascinating foggy mist halfway archaic and funereal, it smells sophisticated and very natural, breezy yet almost oppressive, very distinguished and neat yet almost off-putting. Associations aside, as I said (and as others already said better than me) it’s basically an impeccable “barbershop” citrus-mossy classic eau de cologne with a powerful sense of dusty melancholy, projecting just fine and lasting for long with an utterly enjoyable herbal-powdery drydown, still bearing a decided neroli note. Shortly a British decadent take on 4711 and the likes. Surely quite mature and fairly austere, but truly classy and pleasant. A true little gem far more unique and distinctive than it may seem by the composition, definitely worth it if you’re into classic “gentleman’s” stuff.
8/10
Besides being exceedingly compelling and elegant, the overall feel is just quite more bizarre and puzzling for me, and surely I wouldn’t really associate this fragrance to summer. It may be just me, but I get a very dense feel of grayness, of dusty “countryside” mossiness, definitely something more autumnal for me. Think of entering a shabby cottage and catch a whiff of the inside – the smells of musty dust, cracked damp furniture, dry soaps, old books, cider dripping out of a cracked glass, the dapper landlord lying murdered on the stairs. Basically what many would refer to as an “old man” fragrance – and by “old” I would mean here two, three thousands years old. It’s a spooky and amazingly fascinating foggy mist halfway archaic and funereal, it smells sophisticated and very natural, breezy yet almost oppressive, very distinguished and neat yet almost off-putting. Associations aside, as I said (and as others already said better than me) it’s basically an impeccable “barbershop” citrus-mossy classic eau de cologne with a powerful sense of dusty melancholy, projecting just fine and lasting for long with an utterly enjoyable herbal-powdery drydown, still bearing a decided neroli note. Shortly a British decadent take on 4711 and the likes. Surely quite mature and fairly austere, but truly classy and pleasant. A true little gem far more unique and distinctive than it may seem by the composition, definitely worth it if you’re into classic “gentleman’s” stuff.
8/10
WiseOwl
