Greysolon

Rose d’Homme is one of three masculine rose fragrances I tried a few months back and I’m now giving a second testing. The first two were Voleur de Roses and Paestum Rose. I’ve already posted reviews of them. Voleur was definitely a non-starter on any level. Paestum Rose may not have been what I was looking for as a rose scent per se but it is an excellent and interesting fragrance in so many other ways.

Of my three candidates, Rose d’Homme has the most upfront rose scent. After applying some men might find the first half hour a little scary. During that time it has a fairly powerful, sweet, powdery rose opening but, not to worry, it will calm down. The powdery aspect of Rose d’Homme eventually dries down to link the sweet rose to a very soft suede-like leather. However, to be honest, even after the leather accord comes through some men may still find Rose d'Homme too sweet to feel comfortable wearing.

So does this meet my requirements for a rose scent? Not quite, although I really do like this fragrance. I could see wearing it for a variety of occasions in any season.

One final thought. I agree with AromiErotici when he wrote in his review that he’s baffled by the name Rose d’Homme, although our reasons are different. While he didn’t feel rose was dominant enough for the name -I think there’s plenty of rose throughout- I wonder about the gender tag, “d’Homme”. This is a beautiful rose/leather scent that would be phenomenal for women, too. I’d imagine Rose D’HOMME would appeal to women looking for a leather fragrance without birch tar or smokiness. I would love to smell Rose on my wife when we’re out for a casual evening and she’s wearing a leather jacket. It seems like a perfect pairing.

Recently I’ve been re-auditioning three masculine rose fragrances that I had originally chosen by gleaning recommendations from blogs and forums. It’s been a few months since I tried them the first time so it’s interesting to give them another go. The first was Voleur de Roses which turned out to be an unhappy combination of patchouli and rose. Weird.

This second go around with Paestum Rose confirms that it doesn’t have what I was hoping for in a rose fragrance. But that’s not necessarily a bad thing. Setting aside my quest for a particular rose note, I have a new appreciation for Paestum Rose based on its own merits. Rose does figure prominently in the composition but so does a good balance of incense, tea, sweet amber and...

...a mystery note. At least it was a mystery to me.

The mystery note smells slightly of cherry but I didn't see anything listed in the notes to account for that scent. So I consulted Basenotes' "Note Pad" forum and found references to benzoin essences that have an almond-cherry note. This is from a Note Pad post by Asha about two different samples of Benzoin essence:

“Siam Benzoin, Southeast Asia – Fascinating note. Sweet, nutty, vanillic, with almond-cherry undertones.

Siam Benzoin - This is an exceptionally buttery sample of this material. It is butterscotchy with its vanillic notes creating a burnt sugar aroma. Mine had a more pronounced almond-cherry note. This one is gourmand.”

I don’t claim that benzoin accounts for my perception of cherry but I do smell something reminiscent of it. Take it as you will. Oh, and don't worry, there's no "burnt sugar aroma" in Paestum Rose.

Finally, Paestum Rose is another fragrance that raises my admiration for the work Bertrand Douchufour. This is one of his incense fragrances. What I really like about Douchufour’s incense accords is that he creates them without smoke or smut. It’s an airy effect that surrounds you in a sheer incense-like cloud. The sillage is as airy as the fragrance itself yet it carries much better than I expected. The downside of Paestum Rose is that it doesn’t have great legs longevity wise. It’s about two hours before it’s run its course and I have to stick my nose right into my wrist to smell it.

I love the smell of roses and I've been on the hunt for a masculine, rose dominant perfume since day one of my fragrance addiction. Initially I wasn't having much luck so I consulted several blogs and forums to get recommendations. One of the most highly recommended fragrances was Voleur de Roses. So imagine my disappointment when I received my sample, sprayed it on and all I could think was, "Everybody likes this? What am I missing?"

Well, for one thing, roses.

OK, to be honest, there is rose in Voleur de Roses. But L'Artisan should have marketed this as a patchouli based fragrance and called it "L'Assassin de Roses". Those poor roses are having the fight of their life as they're strangled by the patchouli. It isn't long before we are left with "Mort de Roses" and the patchouli stands alone.

Full disclosure: Even though I love the smell of patchouli in small doses I'm not a fan of it as a dominant note. If it's too present it quickly overwhelms me. With that in mind, I must admit my nose is not attuned to patchouli's subtleties and variations. But as Sherapop noted in her review, the patchouli in Voleur de Roses is dry and dirty and I find it a weird pairing with the rose. The two really do fight. Imagine being served cantaloupe with a dollop of mustard. The sweet, slightly floral melon struggling against the assertive, grainy mustard. I'm not saying that this example represents an analogy in terms of smell. But it seems to capture my sensory experience with the odd juxtaposition of notes found in Voleur de Roses.

I don't have any issues with the longevity of Voleur de Roses except that the rose disappears while the patchouli lives on and on.

By the way, please DO NOT send me your favorite cantaloupe and mustard recipes.

A common criticism of Allure Homme is that it's just another generic oriental fragrance. To me, that's a bit like saying a Shakespeare sonnet is generic because it's just another sonnet. Same form, same rhyme scheme he simply exchanged a few flowery words. Ho hum.

Perhaps where Allure falls short for some is that it's not cast in the fragrance language of our time. Extending the sonnet analogy, it's like a living poet who writes in the language of Shakespeare. However, in the case of Allure, I imagine it as a perfume created in the language of early 20th century European Orientalism. Of course, I can't claim that as fact. However, Coco Chanel was very fond of Orientalist trends. A well known example of this is her collection of coromandel screens. Given that the House of Chanel does what it can to maintain Mademoiselle Chanel's vision and legacy then the idea that Allure is meant to evoke an earlier era doesn't seem too far fetched.

When I was thinking about how to describe Allure, the influence of Eastern art on Claude Debussy and Gustav Klimt also came to mind. Allure exudes the richness and opulence you find in their work. The swirling Arabesques of Debussy and Klimt's use of gold in his exotic/erotic paintings (I equate Allure with the color gold). I really do imagine Allure as an idealization of the artistic language of that era.

Even if I were to be convinced that Allure is a generic smelling fragrance I would insist that it is a worthy reproduction of a beautiful age. It's crafted with a depth and quality that few designer orientals can match.

Missk has already described many facets of Cipresso di Toscana very well (see her review below). Her description of how the citruses mind their manners is perfect. Although when she wrote "it has a beauty that is difficult to describe", I wonder if she was pondering the same indefinable quality that gave me pause?

CdT brings to mind the atmospheric qualities of Umbrian hill towns I visited during a hot, dry summer many years ago. The quality of the air and sunlight in Tuscany and Umbria really is different than anywhere else. There's a light, dusty patina of age that surrounds you as you walk over centuries old cobblestone streets or sit in a piazza decorated by terra cotta statuary and planters. I know, that's a very picturesque yet generic description. Not terribly helpful when trying to choose a fragrance here in the real world. But during the first few wearings of CdT I was taken with its indefinable quality; a kind of atmospheric magic that I couldn't pin down. I could sense the notes CdT has in common with other Mediterranean garden fragrances -lavender, rosemary, conifers, florals, herbs- but it is a very blended fragrance so no one note or accord predominates. So how did Bertrand Duchaufour idealize the aura of Tuscany without highlighting the stereotypical notes that would otherwise indentify it as a specific place?

After a few wearings I remembered that Maestro Duchaufour is known for creating incense accords. With that recollection CdT suddenly clicked for me. I believe Duchaufour has idealized the essence of the Tuscan atmosphere in a kind of warm, dry incense accord. It's not at all a hot, joss stick smoldering, smoky incense. Rather, CdT has an aura that radiates out in a dry, ethereal incense-like way. An incense would be an ideal way to capture the light, dusty patina of age I mentioned earlier. I would love to know if this is what Duchaufour had in mind...