Derivative and Costly
Before I even inhaled the scent, I wondered about the company name. Is naming your company puredistance such a great idea when perfume exists to facilitate interpersonal communication? That aside, Black goes on nicely, as a papery, peppery, wine-like creation, reminiscent of Herrera for Men. There's a little bit more of the wine note here, at first, and some distant floral scent that occurs often in gentlemanly frags - it reminds me of Boucheron, for some reason, but it's nowhere near as arrogant. This is a relaxed, upscale, in-control, sort of scent. What comes to mind is an executive relaxing in a private club after work, smooth jazz bleeding through the speakers from some distance away. He is reclining at his usual location in a private booth, leisurely smoking. Although there is no smoke in this scent, this is the scent that sort of man would wear.
Out of curiosity, I visited the puredistance site, and it's clear that they are aiming at the higher end of the fragrance market. To such men as I imagined, $485 for a leather-wrapped perfume flacon is no financial burden. While us middle-class folks can afford this, it is probably not intended for us, or for the avid fragrance tester or collector.
By 30 minutes in, the silage has expanded to between a foot and two; it wreathes around me, and smells slightly different, with the overlay of an old chemist's shop - or is that the floral and the wine-like note merging? As it further expands, the similarities to Herrera for Men prove inescapable. Is that pear I smell? The scent has arrived and from here on out, it fades into nothingness.
On the whole, Black does work as a "black" scent, and it is luxurious and well-blended, but I am underwhelmed by its derivative nature. It is arguably a better scent than Herrera for Men, but it is not hundreds of dollars better. For the price, I would have expected something as creative and longlasting as Creed's Green Irish Tweed.