The Russian path we took first led us into the dead end of a meat and sausage department. It is therefore to be left for the time being. For the time being we turn to more southern and leather-free areas.
Brummel (product) by Brummel (brand) from the Puig Group, a cologne which I became aware of a long time ago, but which I only acquired and tested on the occasion of this commentary series, is something like the prototype of what I had in mind when I heard the term "brown colognes" - and in this respect a real Cologne milestone for me!
On the one hand, we have here a really light, bright, fresh, not headache-inducingly mysterious, but nevertheless beautifully finely complexly woven, unconditionally heat-resistant summer water with rich hesperidik (I would most likely guess bergamot and lemon in that order) and perhaps also lavender. Also the durability is colognypical reserved.
On the other hand, the whole thing is contrasted by a nice grounding counterpoint of spicy (I mean carnation here), woody and also soapy notes. This complex never dominates (and that's how Brummel differs from the likewise very nice Tabac Original), but always gives way to the cheerful citric, but still plays a well audible second violin.
By the way, Brummel reminds me, distantly but clearly, of Grey Flannel, which was created by chance or not in the same year. Others seem to see this relationship in the same way, because Geoffrey Beene's classic is listed here in the right-hand column under "... likes often also..."!
Our Brummel Bear is not only a real seventies, but also a proud Spaniard. Without me being able to prove this scientifically, he seems to me, not unlike Floid, for example, to have a thoroughly Iberian DNA (somewhere else I had once expressed the thesis of a specific Habsburg woodiness, which is particularly evident in Spanish and Austrian scents). It fits in with this that Brummel was created by Rosendo Mateu, a perfumer who I have already noticed positively on several occasions and who has created many well-known and famous fragrances in his long and productive professional life, with very, very few Italian exceptions always only for Spanish perfume houses.
Against the excellent commentary of Parfumo Bernard (side note: he fell silent after his mumbling comment here on Parfumo, I hope this is not an omen for me), which I recommend as a supplement to the reading, I would like to raise very gentle objections in two places.
Of course, at first glance there is an almost comic, screaming disproportion between this rock-solid, everyday scent and the highly eccentric and also somewhat sad historical figure of "Beau Brummel" (who was also a failed nutcase, to put it bluntly). However, Brummel's fashion style was never flamboyant in all its craziness. So the name might fit better than you think.
And as for the (somehow also boring) question about the age of the wearer: Yes, I can imagine the scent excellently on a greyish senor from Malaga or Burgos. But Dios mio, a solid, well-made classic always works. Since Brummel is also hardly known in this country (unlike in Spain, where it is probably still a big seller today, also as aftershave) and therefore does not trigger a gerontological head cinema, why shouldn't a young turtle, which the scent profile appeals to, test it and if you like it, wear it as well?
Brummel is also available through the "Spain Specialists" prafumsclub. This online provider seems to use the same translation machine with a guarantee of witticism as the Czech manufacturer Alpa, because they export to Brummel: "Brummel is a colony inspired by 18th century aristocrat George Brummel, who set the trend in England for his style, elegance, refinement and seductive character. The bottle reflects a very classic and elegant image. Its aroma is lemony, floral, spicy with wood, leather and musk. Perfect for the classic and elegant man."
From this colony there are also the spanish typical giant plasma burrows, I ordered the 100 ml spray bottle for 11,90 Euro. In honour of this, I would like to add the following: It may have a somewhat cheap plastic cap, but it sprays a nicely swirled mist. And above all, it looks like a bottle, is pleasantly functional and fits into the fragrance cabinet in a space-saving way. I prefer such bores a thousand times over hyper-intense original bottle designs like the landscape-format bottles from Vilhelm Parfümerie. My very pragmatic father would say to them: "Great toilet bowl, even made of gold, you only have the hole to get in... ...the hole to get in."
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