Profumo

With the scent of tuberose, that's one thing: either you love it or you don't. Hardly a second flower scent polarizes in such a way and there is no lukewarm 'so lala'. Heated adoration or cold contempt, that's for sure.

I belong to those who love the scent of tuberose, but at the same time find it incredibly exhausting and cannot actually wear it. That's when I tried. I wore the fantastic 'Carnal Flower' in small homeopathic doses, but still. Alone, it didn't work out with us. The scent captured me, buried me and I felt very uncomfortable. I also gave 'Cédre' a chance, with a similar result, even with 'Tubereuse Criminelle' I didn't feel better, let alone 'Fracas'. I always thought: for heaven's sake, I'm not the Bombshell à la Jean Harlow or Mae West that these tuberose-centered fragrances want to make me. No, I'm not, not in drag either!
Still: how wonderful they smell!!

When the small fragrance manufacturer 'Jardins d'Écrivains', which I hold in high esteem, announced its new fragrance 'Marlowe' a few years ago, I was very pleased that a fragrance concept had apparently been realised here after I had been looking for a long time: a tuberose fragrance that a halfway masculine man can safely wear without drag-queen tendencies
Strangely enough, I had somehow lost interest, my affinity for fragrance just slackened at times...

Anyway, he's here now, with some delay, but he smells wonderful on the back of my hand.
Nevertheless I must confess that I was a little disappointed at first, because when I sprayed 'Marlowe' on for the first time, it was not quite the smell I expected.
Strangely enough, he was too quiet for me right away.
This is certainly due to the fact that 'Carnal Flower', 'Tubereuse Criminelle' or 'Fracas' are real full-tone players who do not care about restraint. Immediately after spraying, they fill the room and even hours later, scattered clouds of blossoms are still moving through the air.
Not like Marlowe. The tuberose, as omnipresent as it is here, doesn't hit the drum at all and actually leaves room for its comrades-in-arms to develop.
First and foremost, these are the fruity aroma of the osmanthus blossom, reminiscent of apricots, next to some dried flowers with a strawy, sour scent, but also the resins of elemi, myrrh and labdanum. An initially somewhat soapy impression is increasingly transformed towards the base into a beautiful chypre finish with slight leather nuances, so that one could almost speak of a leather chypre, a tuberose leather chypre to be more precise, because tuberose is actually present in every phase of the development of fragrance, without the fragrance thus becoming a kind of tuberose soliflore in the sense of the three fragrances mentioned above.
Especially the interaction of the Osmanthus blossom with the tuberose elicits a certain hairspray note from the fragrance, which soon tends to soap thanks to the resins, finally comes to rest in the chypre base and also develops a little sweetness. However, not much sweetness, just something, 'Marlowe' is a rather dry fragrance.

But what does all this have to do with Christopher Marlowe?
Well, some things, but that's just a feeling, of course. What fragrance would fit a personality as complex as Marlowe: the playwright and contemporary of Shakespeare, the spy and homosexual, the translator of Ovid and Vergil, who was murdered at the age of 29?
I think tuberose actually fits quite well - the fanfare and surprise of the mighty chord of flowers stands, so to speak, for this turbulent life that ended so abruptly at the height of its success. Osmanthus, the dried flowers and the resins give the scent an antique touch, immerse it in the yellow-red to brown colour spectrum of an old painting.

I think Anaïs Beguine has once again created a wonderful fragrance with 'Marlowe', whose inspiration is quite harmonious.
Away from all the inflated and stilted luxurious get-toys à la Roja Dove & Co., a fantastic series of very, very good fragrances has been created here, which are extremely valuable - and affordable!
Chapeau and thank you, Madame Beguine!

A few more facts: 'Marlowe' has quite good endurance, with moderate projection. As I said, the fragrance doesn't 'scream', like tuberose fragrances like to do (which I really appreciate now!).
It is also equally suitable for both sexes - an 'Eau Mixte' as Anaïs Beguine subtitles her fragrance.

Due to an ingredient I have made a big bow around this fragrance for years: Cashmeran.
With this light-woody, sweetly and musky smelling fragrance, which is said to have one thing in particular: But as much as I don't like the color beige, I associate cashmere with this color, as little as I like it cuddly - at least in olfactory terms.

But now I read somewhere that Fréderic Malle (like so many others!) thinks Cashmeran is great, and that he found a perfumer in Maurice Roucel who created a genuine Cashmeran scent for him.
Roucel, a master of sensual fragrances, just think of 'Musc Ravageur' or the EdC/EdP duo by Helmut Lang, was probably just the right choice to showcase this fragrance, which is very popular in modern men's perfumery.
Just as a sculptor carves a sculpture out of a block of marble, Maurice Roucel develops this wonderfully poetic scent 'Dans tes bras' out of a block of cashmere. But Cashmeran is obviously a material with which one can work very well because of its complexity and its richness of facets - at least that's how the master himself explains it.
And since Roucel himself composed the in-house 'Musc Ravageur', it was obvious to place the new fragrance in a closer relationship to this most successful Malle fragrance.

Sensuality paired with clear erotic vibes - keyword musk - should be the common basis, only the dosage form should be a completely opposite one: extroversion here (Musc Ravageur), introversion there (Dans tes bras).
Interestingly, 'Musc Ravageur' contains almost no musk, 'Dans tes bras' even more so. And this is how Roucel logically calls 'Dans tes bras' his actual musk masterpiece and not 'Musc Ravageur', which he describes as animalistic orientals with strong amber accents. Nevertheless 'Musc Ravageur' conveys in a very direct and erotic way the sensual-animalic side of the musk, while 'Dans tes bras', as the name wonderfully illustrates, rather emphasizes the quiet, intimate side.

The Cashmeran-Moschus duo now forms the centre and basis of the fragrance. It's cuddly and erotic, that it's a real pleasure! But luckily other guests are invited to the party and cross the cosy coziness wherever possible: smoky nuances waft through the light-woody facets of the cashmeran and some floral elements happily sprout out of its skin tone, especially violets or violet leaf and heliotrope. The former brings a floral freshness, while the latter exudes an almond-like aroma that harmonizes wonderfully with the vanilla skin notes of cashmeran, as well as the musk accents.
Here 'Dans tes bras' reminds me very strongly of Guerlain's 'Après l'ondée', but of an 'Après l'ondée' on Speed, because the heliotropin appears much more clearly and offensively in Malles scent than in the wonderful, in pastel tones kept quiet scent of Guerlain.
No, the colours of Maurice Roucel are really not pastel, as the whole fragrance is not really quiet at all, on the contrary. He turns up quite a bit at first, then becomes increasingly quieter, but has a good stamina and presence. Nor does it have the silky, veil-like texture of the Guerlain scent, but rather an almost strong, dense consistency. After all, those who lie in someone else's arms are not holding a finely woven silk scarf in their hands, but a warm, pulsating and firm body.
Here again 'Dans tes bras' differs from Roucel's earlier work for Helmut Lang. Its EdC, or EdP are considered rather as skin scents. Roucel reports about Helmut Lang's intentions: 'He wanted the scent of his lover's sweat ...erotic, musk, skin.'
As beautiful as he succeeded with the almost legendary Helmut Lang fragrances, with 'Dans tes bras' he has gone a decisive step further - here it doesn't smell quite as fresh, neat and clean anymore, here the animal power slumbers in secret, subcutaneously so to speak. And that, I think, is what makes this fragrance so special: the subliminal erotic vibrations that interweave this fragrance with a soft excitement.

So far, so beautiful. A successful skin scent, which wants to be more than the remains of a flown perfume on the skin, namely the scent of the skin itself, pulsating skin, excitement of sweaty skin, from skin to skin.
Of course, 'Dans tes bras' is only the abstract idea of a fragrant skin, the ideal case of fragrant skin, so to speak.

But what about the damned Cashmeran?

Well, I must confess, I don't think it's so bad here. Maurice Roucel has succeeded in giving the pale beige a darker complexion, taming the vanilla sweetness with floral contrasts, almost neutralizing it with salty leg notes, and giving the light-woody notes some character with fine incense streaks.
I still don't think it's great, but probably 'Dans tes bras' is the best thing that could happen to this synthetic and hybrid fabric.

When asked which of his fragrances Fréderic Malle would like a little more attention, he says in an interview once: this here.
Why is 'Dans tes bras' lacking in attention on the part of the inclined consumer public? I don't know.
But I feel 'Dans tes bras' as an intellectual, but not intellectual, extremely sensual scent, which however does not open up immediately and can even be perceived as bulky.

If you want to give it a chance: please test it several times, it's worth it.
The scent grows on the skin!

Yeah, the scent's great.
Déclartion' has always been a great fragrance (at least in my opinion) and Mathilde Laurent, the head perfumer of Cartier, obviously doesn't see it any differently, otherwise she wouldn't pay so much attention to the DNA of the original fragrance in all the flanks she created.
The creator of the fragrance, which was launched more than 20 years ago, also considers it to be one of his best, according to his own statements.

A homage to 'Eau d'Hermès', the early masterpiece of Edmond Roudnitskas, which his pupil reinterpreted almost half a century later.
Unlike his teacher, Jean-Claude Ellena placed the basic character of his new fragrance more in the direction of a semi-oriental chypre fragrance and let the clear leather nuances of the Roudnitska fragrance take a back seat.
Mathilde Laurent now makes sure that exactly these leather notes appear more strongly again, which does not lead, however, to the fact that the new smell would change back a piece in the direction of 'Eau d'Hermès', no, she develops it further in the direction of her own fragrance fingerprint, and this is characterized above all by the frequent one of a fragrance, by Cashmeran.
Mathilde Laurent loves Cashmeran. In many of her creations it can be experienced in a rare quantity and unfolds beside all its wonderfully fragrant aspects unfortunately also its - at least for me - unpleasant sides.
But Mme Laurent is not the only one who enriches her formulas with an excess of cashmeran: François Demachy, for example, has also delighted his all-sided applauded 'Eau Sauvage Parfum' (also originally a Roudnitska fragrance) with it, as has Maurice Roucel his 'Dans tes bras'.
Mathilde Laurent herself has overloaded her own 'Roadster' with it, as well as the wonderful patchouli scent 'L'Heure Mysterieuse'.

Cashmeran can now be found quite wonderful, especially if you appreciate sweetish light woodsy nuances in combination with a distant musk-like skin note, but you can also quickly get annoyed by it - annoyed by all the synthetic caramel woodsy baby skin fluffiness.
Strangely enough, the cashmeran in 'Déclaration Parfum' doesn't bother me as much as in the Dior fragrance or in 'Roadster', because the base notes keep its light beige sweetness quite well in check. Nevertheless it is there, and unfortunately clearly recognizable. Especially the comparison with Ellena's 'Déclaration' makes it stand out.
At the moment I have his scent on the back of one hand and Mme Laurent's version on the other.

In itself, the perfume version is not bad: it is full-sounding, unfolds volume and a richly orchestrated depth, all pervaded by the familiar 'Déclaration' sound, but tuned darker, richer. The brighter sounding brilliance, the steel power and refinement of the original, however, she does not achieve.
That's no big deal, since 'Déclaration' perfume is in quite respectable company here: because similar to this supposed 'perfume' (probably an EdP) it's the same with other heavyweights like the already mentioned 'Eau Sauvage Parfum', but also 'Hèritage Eau de Parfum', 'Dior Homme Parfum', 'Fahrenheit Parfum', or 'PuH de Caron Impact' - all of them don't reach the class of their EdT-representatives.

Of course, it's all a matter of taste. Some prefer rather scent bolides in modernistic bloated style (Cashmeran, Ambroxan & Co...), but it's too loud for me, too SUV-like, too much sound generator pose.....
The original 'Déclaration' on the back of my other hand simply smells better: fresher, brighter, more refined. The for many so precarious spices, cardamom and a hint of cumin, come to better effect and the orange ripened to full beauty later in the 'Cologne Bigarade' can already be experienced here. Everything in a wonderful balance and not yet following Ellena's later minimalism command, evaporated beyond measure.
But also not disguised and glued by Mathilde Laurent's beloved Cashmeran. I must be glad that Mr Demachy didn't get his hands on the scent - probably he would have added more cashmeran and ambroxan to the formula and pumped it up to a farce of his own.
No, luckily 'Déclaration Parfum' is not a farce, but can be really seen.

So far, so la la...
A good fragrance, but not a superior one.
Outstanding is and remains the old 'Déclaration'.

Durability and projection are good, but no better than the original.
And the bottle is just as ugly...

Who appreciates the on the one hand herb-floral, on the other hand green-grassy violet leaf, will be best served with 'Portrayal Man'. It is absolutely in the center of the fragrance. Vetiver reinforces the fresh and green aspects, while juniper contributes dry spice and woody, as well as leathery nuances determine the base of 'Portrayal Man'.

The fragrance is reminiscent of violet leaf-centered scents such as Geoffrey Beene's 'Grey Flannel' (minus the radiant freshness), Dior's 'Fahrenheit' (minus the petroleum note) and Guerlain's unfortunately discontinued 'Arsène Lupin' (minus the guerlinade), but without achieving their strength of character and sophistication.
Portrayal Man' is a rather linear fragrance that doesn't develop much during the course of the process

Christopher Chong reports that the fragrance can be read as an olfactory portrait of the 1920s, inspired by a time of dramatic social change and people who rebelled against the cultural restrictions of their time. The fragrance is a study about the birth of a new age and the freedoms that came with it.
Well, I'd say: typical marketing swirl that doesn't find any equivalent in the fragrance at all.
Because 'Portrayal Man' really doesn't convey something rebellious, revolutionary, but rather something static, stiff - no 'roaring twenties', rather English Tea-Time-Biedermeier.

Mr. Chong's words also suggest fragrances like Piguets 'Bandit', Molinard's 'Habanita', or Chanel's 'Bois des Îles' or 'Cuir de Russie' - fragrances that reflect hedonism and rebellion against a traditional gender image rather than this new fragrance from Amouage. Even though there is no denying a certain dandyiness: the scent of the violet or violet leaf is also well suited to it: floral-elegant, fresh and green, not at all sweet or even indolent. Oscar Wilde or Marcel Proust might have been the appropriate carriers for a violet soliflor, but they were typical turn-of-the-century plants and not representatives of the twenties.

But sei´s drum.

Despite the cross linking, 'Portrayal Man' is not bad at all. But hardly any more. It is neither modern nor innovative, and on top of that it has hardly any refinement. He doesn't surprise with daring contrasts and manages completely without inner tension - in short, somehow a bore, but not a bad smelling one. It's something...
Only I could have imagined such a fragrance in the catalogue of Penhaligon´s rather than in that of Amouage. I still think of the old Amouage fragrances of oriental opulence: 'Gold', 'Dia' and 'Jubilation'. But already the last creations of the house, 'Imitation', 'Figment' or 'Bracken' had no connection at all with the original scent DNA.
No matter, the house Amouage is just broader, wants to be carried worldwide equally and is just as worldwide a synonym for fragrant luxury. And luxury doesn't always have to be glamorous or even shrill. No, it's also more restrained, with British understatement, so to speak, with 'Portrayal Man' for example.

Durability and radiation (I avoid the word 'Sillage' at all costs, because it always reminds me of silage: stinking silage in agriculture) are typical of Amouage and absolutely flawless.

Conclusion: 'Portrayal Man' should have been a bit more exciting, more courageous, more glamorous, corresponding to the 'dance on the volcano' of the twenties. Here, however, stiff, somewhat old-fashioned elegance prevails.

Quite nice, but not anymore.

There is a video about this fragrance that wants to tell us a story about the creation of 'Music for a while': two older men tell us here how they worked together to create the fragrance. In contrast to the text with which the fragrance is ultimately advertised on the website or cardboard box, this video is actually informative.
The starting point was therefore: we designed a lavender fragrance.
And indeed, the Editions de Parfums portfolio lacks a lavender fragrance. In general, lavender is quite popular again - Tom Ford is kicking out one lavender scent after the other, Chanel has launched the wonderful 'Boy', Bogue the heavily applauded 'Mem' and when you look at it, lavender scents pop up.
Don't mind, I love lavender!
This one is really a special one - a kind of 'Lavender-Fruitychouli'.

But back to Carlos and Frédéric: Lavender should be the center of the fragrance, carried by a base of patchouli, vanilla and labdanum, and introduced by a Hesperid cocktail of mandarin, bergamot and lemon - the roadmap was written
So far, so good, so unfashionable.
So how to breathe modernity into the rather classic scent frame?
Et voilà: the pineapple!
Creed's Aventus sends his regards. And the unbelievable success of this fragrance has probably also amazed the gentlemen of the Editions de Parfums.

Said, done, and the attached pineapple note now stands quite cheekily in the center of 'Music for a while' and competes with the no less cheeky lavender for supremacy.
When I looked at the pyramid of notes of this fragrance more than a year ago, on the occasion of its introduction, it was exactly this pineapple note that kept me from even taking a test. I was so sure that I wouldn't like this new mall.
Far from it.

More out of boredom I tested it now and I have to say: Wow, what an exciting, contrasting and exciting fragrance!
I probably would have liked it even without the pineapple note, but I have to admit that it is she who gives this fragrance that certain something, that special kick. I really didn't think so!
The herbaceous-spicy lavender does not really harmonize with the fruity-sweet pineapple. But somehow it is. Just like you eat strawberries with pepper, or pineapple with fresh mint - supposed disharmonies enliven the whole thing tremendously
So it is here. Through the Anitpodes Pineapple/Lavender, the fragrance indeed gets an inner tension that is fantastic, but also one or the other, or the one or the other might overstrain.
This is also how I explain the fierce defense, which partly opposes this scent, while many find it again quite great. A fragrance that polarizes. Interestingly, however, not because of its supposed animalistic parts, which otherwise let the spirits separate in some scents, no, simply because this inner tension is exhausting, perhaps also too exhausting. The sweetness of the pineapple soothes the herbaceous pungency of the lavender, while this very herbaceous one prevents the fragrance from tipping over into the all-too-sweet, syrup-like one.
So 'Music for a while' is not really a nosefeller, not a gourmand-like lavender dessert to all fogging cashmere dunk and - God sei´s praised - also not a lavender ambroxan booster for Muckibuden-goers.
No, this scent does not flatter and it does not cuddle - it demands.
He demands right at the beginning when his two main notes blossom so incredibly intense. Strangely enough, at first I only smelled pineapple, while the lady in the perfumery thought she was only taking lavender. When she mentioned the lavender, it was - zack - also with me there. What a Janus-faced scent!!

Now I actually smell lavender at first - lavender 'brut' so to speak, really fat and untamed, with all its spicy nuances. Far from the polished elegance and softness of Caron´schen Lavender. But shortly thereafter, the tangy fruity aromas of pineapple penetrate the lavender, which had previously trumped up almost arrogantly.
The already mentioned Hesperides trio plays at best a supporting role, but not an unimportant one, as it forms a kind of clamp between the fiercely antagonistic protagonists in the beginning phase.

Strangely enough, 'Music for a while' reminded me of a completely different scent right after the first spraying on: 'Mitsouko'. Here, too, the contrast between ripe, yellow-fleshed peach on the one hand and bitter-moosy chypre background on the other. In 'Music for a while' it is now the pineapple that challenges the two Fougère actors Lavender and Coumarin (also part of the fragrance!), but also a dominant fruit chord that contrasts a bitter-herb or herbaceous one.
Maybe therefore the classification as Lavender-Fruitychouli is also not quite correct and I should call the fragrance rather a fruity-oriental Fougère. But no matter how man´s turns and turns, the scent remains hard to grasp - just a Janus-faced scent, which you can never look into both pairs of eyes at the same time, no matter how hard you try...

As for the name of the fragrance: yes, it really has music in it. But not the music of Erik Satie, which accompanies the video. Much too harmonious and lulling she splashes along. No, rather music from the sound cosmos of Arnold Schönberg: exciting, atonal and exciting.

The description of the fragrance on the website and on the cardboard: plain chocolates.
With the best will in the world, I don't associate this fragrance with a woman's back whose slipping fur reveals a view of bare shoulders. The two older gentlemen would like that!
No, much more I see here a freshly barbershoped hipster enjoying a pineapple munching - the scent is quite masculine, not to say: very masculine.
Durability and radiation are - and this is really worth mentioning - simply sensational! I once made the mistake of spraying two sprays of 'Music for a while' on top of each other, just as I often do with scents that aren't very persistent. But in this case the effect is devastating. The fragrance has an incredible potency and should therefore be used sparingly. A glance at the bottle also reveals why: it is indeed a 'perfume'. No 'eau de parfum' like 'Musc Ravageur' and no 'eau de toilette' like 'Bigarade Concentrée' - no. It says 'perfume' unmistakably, and I don't think Frédéric Malle is fibbing.
The fact that 'Music for a while' has a very dense texture also goes well with this concentration of scent - the scent is strong and heavy, like a thick carpet. Fortunately, the proportion of fragrance components is manageable, so that the fragrance does not appear overloaded despite all its heaviness and density.

One last word: great!