Silverfire

Once it settles on the skin, the first note is that of mint leaves. If you’ve ever bought mint from the grocery, or you happen to have it growing wild where you live, it's that exact scent. It fades quickly in projection to a skin scent in an hour, where it smells like milkweed – earthy, and kind of rancid, with the mint mingling with it. It’s unusual. Very realistic, but it’s not something I care to smell like. At three hours, it smells like something trying to be grassy, but on second and third sniff, it’s the mothball note again. Ugh! How could you do this to me, Imaginary Authors? And so it goes, tacking back and forth from something minty to something mothbally for the next four hours, turning fertilizer-esque at the end, until it mercifully dissipates.

Goes on smoky, but the smoke has a little bit of the choking quality to it that I recognize as benzoin. A creamy underside shows up soon afterwards. At about an hour and half the smokiness has dissipated and the creaminess has tamed the benzoin, leading to a warm, but weighty, comforting scent with very faint citrus, like you were smelling a giant fluffy cushion. It waxes elegant, and by three hours in, the feel is one of relaxed opulence – benzoin and maybe a little musk with some sort of citrus. It’s blended quite well. The projection is now down to a skin scent, though. Hour five the scent reveals the usual vanilla base, followed by a weird interlude of Scotchguard/cream/aridity. By eight hours, it’s a slightly creamy vanilla, and it stays there for the remainder (11 hours at least), surviving even light workouts.

The Cobra and the Canary is a curious fragrance, one that tells a story of another life lived in stages, like Memoirs of a Trespasser. We begin as a youthful racecar driver who stumbles into some kind of fortune, and then adds the allure of high culture to his brash charisma. It's Fahrenheit-esque, but a Fahrenheit of an earlier time.

Overall, I found the scent interesting and well-blended, but it didn't connect; that feeling -- of a near miss -- is what I get from other fragrances of this house as well. It's like I was almost kissed.

Memoirs… goes on as a lit cigar plunged into vanilla ice cream, which works better than it sounds. The vanilla ice cream hangs around in the background as the cigar qualities fade into to a sweet tobacco. It's heavier, sweeter, and smokier than your usual tobacco / vanilla scent. And the projection is generous but not floor-invading. Ok, you've got my attention!

In the first hour, the smokiness of the tobacco makes out with the benzoin, which then borrows the clothes of vanilla. The scent is no longer as smoky nor as sweet as it once was; the benzoin takes it in a different direction. Benzoin imparts a feeling of high class, like you're in a high-class fridge or a fridge in a high-class house. Wait. No, you're definitely in a ballroom with a chandelier refracting light in many different ways. There's definitely an impression of elegance, riches, and formality at this point. (As an aside, this is the best benzoin that I've experienced. It's sweet and has a little bit of a citrus tang to it. Usually benzoin makes me nauseous, but not here.)

In the later stages, the benzoin turns sweeter from the vanilla, but the acridness of the smoke or tobacco keeps it from being foody, and the projection slowly decreases until it reaches the foot range. After that, a tinge of musky spice infects the vanilla. What remains is a foody vanilla with occasional whiffs of the past, be it smoke, tobacco, spice, or musk.

Now that I've reached the end of this olfactory journey, I'm not sure that the scent exactly fits the name. I don't feel that I was a trespasser. I feel like a rough-around-the-edges gentleman who somehow gets invited to upscale parties. Now both are out of place, but trespassing suggests more secrecy, danger, and criminal intent. The Memoirs part of the name works better; the scent imparts a sense of progression through time, as though you were living another life in stages. The beginning captures a man in his 20's, and the middle part, his 40's-50's, and the end, an elderly man recollecting prior times.

Memoirs.. wields benzoin and vanilla (both notes I dislike) so that even I can enjoy them, especially around the 2-4 hour mark. Whether that's quality components, or skillful perfumery, or both, quality results. The 13+ hour longevity is nothing to sneeze at, either. If you enjoy vanilla, or if you're looking for something gentlemanly but a little off the beaten path, try this.

Bull's Blood goes on smelling like a low-class air freshener, the kind that you might find in a ghetto sled. (No, you can’t ask how I know that.) Within a few seconds, the unforgettable combination of mothballs and mint arrives. Actually, it’s mostly mothballs. The mint exists only as a mothball propellant, giving the scent a visceral punch. That’s the first ten-fifteen minutes.

Then the mint becomes menthol and amps up the mothball vibe, generating a sour smell like cleaning agent gone wrong. I’ve smelled something like it while shopping in a bargain grocery store once. By this time, I can imagine what Bull's Blood was supposed to be, which is a creamy, animalic, sweaty-fresh kind of deal, but it got lost along the way.

By two point five hours, it smells fresh and animalic, and it reminds me of urinal mints, rather distantly. This is a smell I could handle, but it’s not really gripping as an animalic nor really interesting or involving as something fresh. Three hours in, benzoin and a sweaty aroma join the party.

By hour six, it finally smells good – an animalic, spicy aroma, faintly urinal, sweet and musky. In this stage, it’s reminiscent of Cuir de’ Ottoman, however the silage is skin only, so it doesn’t have the lounge lizard vibe that cologne can give off. It’s more like you’re a lounge lizard on line, or only at home. By hour eight, Bull's Blood has begun its long kiss goodnight of a citrusy, urinal musk. Strangely enough, this is the best-smelling stage.

This is one for only thrill-seeking olfactionists. I can't imagine where or when you'd wear this, unless you have a little lounge lizard in you.

Curve goes on with a bergamot, faint citrus aroma and dries down to a lightly aromatic cologne smell, like CK Euphoria, but longer lived. It does survive the eight-hour test, so kudos on that. I can see it as an office scent or as something you'd wear out -- it is versatile. However, what it has in general appeal it lacks in oomph. No-one will hate this on you, but you won't be enthralled by it. A better fragrance in terms of impact, personality, and duration in the same style is Ed Hardy's Love and Luck.