DerDefcon

It's late and I'm still writing this comment - despite tiredness, despite nerve-wracking work from home and despite various other things that actually need to be done on the side. Why am I doing this? Because I'm in a good mood. Quite simply!

This good mood is the result of a fragrance, which alone due to its invigorating character must provide for a good mood and actually can not otherwise, he would not ... indeed, had it not been discontinued. This wonderful combination of orange blossom and the classic Le Male DNA may well have caused some consumers to be in too much of a "good mood". Strong floral fragrances still seem to be a big problem for many gentlemen. I can't understand that, because oversweetened vanilla and sticky tonka bean broths sell like hotcakes. But floral notes are a problem? Well, it does seem to be if this fragrance hasn't sold often enough. And what do bad sales numbers mean for a product?

You know.

Why I fell in love with "Fleur du Male" right away can be explained in that I am an "APOM Homme" lover, which by the way is also a recently discontinued fragrance. Come to think of it, I'm not sure my good mood isn't about to change. But let's move on.

The not-too-smooth orange blossom makes its grand entrance in this grotesquely pure white bottle, and with just as brute durability and no less subtle sillage as in Kurkdjan's niche orange blossom version in the square bottle, which appeared two years later. Careful dosage is the motto here, if you don't want to scare away your fellow human beings in spring, summer, autumn and winter, i.e. across the seasons. The cross-seasonal wearing, by the way, is the great strength of "Fleur du Male", because while I let "APOM Homme" wet my skin only in spring and summer, because the fragrance only knows how to unfold beautifully in warmth, "Fleur du Male" can also be worn in the deepest winter, so tested two days ago, without having to accept losses in terms of fragrance progression.

Now it read until just as if "APOM Homme" and "Fleur du Male" are pure fragrance twins. That is not so. Truly, they are very similar, but the orange blossom in the former is carried by powdery amber and dry cedar and is thus a bit dustier, while in "Fleur du Male" we smell a combination of a similar, but not quite as dusty orange blossom and the Le Male DNA. This DNA, to my nose, has a great lavender-mint compound at its heart. This may not be listed in the fragrance pyramid, but I recognize it at first smell, my father wears the classic Le Male already since 1995. I grew up with this fragrance, appreciate its DNA even today - especially since my father fortunately belonged and still belongs to those who dose carefully and thus are not to be attributed to the faction who manage to let great fragrances drift into the unbearable for the general public by fighting and much spraying.

Well ... before this is again an all-round scolding and slides into the Schwafelei, I put times a point. So here's the bottom line:

The Mr Kurkdjian has succeeded here a really wonderful fragrance. That he was discontinued, is a shame - probably also for the perfumer himself. More remains not to say.

I was very curious about the much praised "Alexandria II", one reads here on parfumo.de but so much of him and he also has notes, which I also like in various other fragrances. Above all, however, I was curious about the oud-lavender compound, which already inspired me in "Fars" sustainable. This dry woodiness with subtle hints of fougère had olfactory its very special charm and gives the fragrance an incredible everyday suitability. I was all the more excited to see how the combination of those two fragrance notes comes to light in "Alexandria II" - a Xerjoff candidate, which seems to get here again significantly more attention.

The prelude impresses with a clearly perceptible lavender note, which is settled on a creamy-amber foundation. The oud appears at the same time, without coming across medicinal, fecal or animalic. It is simply wood - nothing more.
Parallels to "Fars" can be guessed by the lavender-oud combination, of course. However, the creamy amber plays a weighty role in this composition, he lets those not so dry-woody as the "Fars" smell. The additional creaminess is quite interesting and makes "Alexandria II" seem more solemn in a certain way, similar to the amber in "Grand Soir" from Kurkdjian. However, the note I actually like, I suspect, brings a somewhat strange sweetness to this Xerjoff bestseller that I don't do so well with. To some it smells, I could read it, like shoe polish, to others like medicine. I can't quite put my finger on what it smells like, or what the reason for my sniffling is. I'm probably not made for creamy sweet lavender wood (oud-lavender combination) and prefer the much more straightforward "Fars". "Alexandria II" is too sultry for me and just not quite my cup of tea. I don't smell rose here at all, by the way. The durability and sillage are typical for Xerjoff of course phenomenal

I was particularly curious about Xerjoff's "40 Knots", since according to many it is a fragrance twin to Dior's bestseller, the "Ambre Nuit" - a masterful fragrance, by the way. And indeed, the parallels are clearly smellable. However, the differences are just as noticeable, both in the opening and in the further course of the fragrance. 40 Knots" is by far the more edgy fragrance, as it lacks the rose that provides softness and cuddliness in "Ambre Nuit". The ambergris in "40 Knots" is much more tingling, salty and tart. I therefore understand the naming "40 Knots", but can say that the fragrance, according to my nose, is not remotely an aquatic fragrance. Wouldn't that actually make me question the naming? Well ... also no matter.
In the further course of the fragrance, a decent portion of cinnamon joins later, which rounds off the animalic ambergris and thereby significantly increases the wearability of this Xerjoff. In the end, it's still the case that I prefer and wear Dior's bestseller. It may be quieter and perhaps it may not stick to the skin the way "40 Knots" manages to do. However, it is never too loud for that or takes hours to ring in the end of the scent. Yes, with "40 Knots," it takes. That doesn't make it unpleasant - not at all. But it is definitely a bit exhausting, because being permanently served the full olfactory drone of salty-harsh Walko** - pardon me - without any contrast program is not quite what I was hoping for. Remedy is, as already described, the cinnamon and then I really like this edgy fragrance, but that spice just comes too late. So I stay with "Ambre Nuit" by Dior. This stay, by the way, is automatically also a declaration of love to the rose masterfully integrated here - willy-nilly the fragrance without which I can no longer.

"Naxos" was not love at first spray. But I was not averse to him either. For me, this Xerjoff was good, pleasant, wearable, but nothing more. The reasons for this could be different. Was it the high expectations? Maybe. Was it related to the honey, which hasn't really blown me away as a scent anywhere yet? Probably.
But I can tell you - and you're probably already reading this from my score - that I've really come to like this Xerjoff. This can be explained with a honey note, which is completely different from other honey interpretations, found in compositions of various perfume houses. The citrusy opening in "Naxos" prevents a viscous, turgid and over-sweetened honey, as I once found it in "Back to Black" by Kilian, for example. The honey in "Back to Black" smelled authentic and interesting, but honestly, it's not wearable in everyday life - well, for me at least.
Xerjoff takes a different approach here, by loosening up the usually sweet and sticky gold with the help of a citrus that dominates the opening. The combination of bergamot and lemon also lasts a long time in the course of the fragrance and gives the honey a wonderfully airy-transparent character. I also think I detect a pinch of cinnamon, which adds a little bit of spice. There could also be a little lavender in here. But I'm not sure about that.
What I particularly like is the further course of the fragrance, in which the initially quite dominant citrus increasingly withdraws. Well solved is in my nose, however, that the honey never loses its airiness despite the departing lemon-mountain moth compound. At no time it becomes musty or diabetic - very good!
With retreat of the citrusy, fresh notes is simultaneously paved the way for the tobacco. He also smells soft, thereby a little tart and nestles in a wonderful way with our airy-sweet gold. And even though it now dominates the olfactory game together with the honey, I think I can still smell something fresh in the background. Lemon? Bergamot? Or is it actually the lavender I had suspected? I honestly don't know exactly. In any case, it's a slightly lighter scent, which gives the tobacco-honey combination a pleasant twist that's so different and sets it apart from other gourmand sweets that play with tobacco.

And finally, another important aspect for me, namely the portability:

By "Naxos" is sweet, but not at all oppressive or sticky comes along, he can be worn in my nose even in everyday life, provided that care is taken with the dosage. If you own the bottle, one spray should be enough, because the sillage is treacherous, "Naxos" seems due to its transparent nature at first smell not so space-consuming, which it is in the end - typical Xerjoff. If you take this into account, you have a great feel-good fragrance for the colder days, which others should also appreciate.

"Gris Dior" is spectacularly unspectacular, unapproachable, cold, distant and unremarkable at first sight, perhaps even a little dreary.
But that is exactly why "Gris Dior" is so timeless, so mature, adult, round and uncomplicated - no matter for which sex.
"Gris Dior" is the olfactory white blouse, the white shirt, worn during the spring, neat, without any corner, without any edge. First the rose, then green notes, shortly after cedar wood - that is "Gris Dior". The rose is unsweet, adult, fresh, actually already undercooled, frosted for some noses, the green notes slightly tart, never too bitter and in no way setting the tone. The cedar wood comes across dry, a little bit of bleached pencil character resonates. Sounds boring at first and it is, if you let your nose slide over the wetted skin. But in the air the magic unfolds, which I cannot describe in detail. Maybe "elitist" would be the appropriate attribute - but only maybe. You must have smelled it yourself.