Silverfire

It all begins with a whiff of amber, then salt (nice), but then suntan lotion (eww). I am initially disappointed. You mean I'm sampling an Italian fragrance and all I'm getting are the same generic beach notes used in everyday fragrances? What a rip off! After an hour, though, it has become this oatmeal/beach/chlorine scent that I have smelled before, and it is lovely on my wife. I believe it is the scent left by one of her Aussie shampoos. It's an intriguing and unique scent, but not on me. It's her scent and I like it on her. It weirds me out to smell this smell radiating upwards from my skin.

As time goes on, an occasional salty note pops up, but it never goes into the decaying vegetable direction that some have noted. There's a very faint undertow that I wasn't sure if I had smelled or if I was imagining, my perspective colored by other reviews. The scent stays constant from the first hour onwards and it lasts at least twelve hours. Kudos for the tenacity.

I don't find this to be the most challenging or difficult fragrance I have ever worn, though, not by a long shot. This is a unisex scent, more evocative of places and times rather than playing into male or female stereotypes, so kudos for that as well. If you like the smell of sand/beach/fresh with a little undertow -- maybe moss -- maybe chlorine -- then try this. Projection is personal, not more than six inches, but you can smell it around you.

Blues begins well, like so many other things in life, this time with a deep aqueous note. After a few minutes, stryax tries to pop out, but is denied. Instead something else is gurling in the bowels of the deep aqueous note. No, NO, NO! It's that note -- the Renuzit/toilet deoderizer note. At 10-15 minutes, the smell of cheap white bowl fragrance has risen to the surface. It's that aggro, wet, cypress nastiness that makes me nauseous. If it's this bad in an hour or two, it's off.

Strangely, Blues gets better. By four hours in, it has settled as an herbal aromatic scent with just the faintest edge. I don't mind it now, but what it took to get here is another matter. The projection has died down to half a foot or so, receding from obnoxious to present to gently detectable.

It slowly and thankfully dies away after this point, I think. Honestly, I don't remember anything after that, and it wasn't because I blacked out. Maybe I had olfactory PTSD. That's what my therapist says, anyhow. I could test it again, but my therapist recommends against it.

Stones begins coldly, deeply, and vegetable-ly (vetiver) -- usually. Sometimes some kind of stryax combination (galbanum, I think) appears first. The scent then whirls through a profusion of notes, but settles into an aromatic peppery-vegetable vibe with hints of sawdust, which is more enjoyable than it sounds. It grows more aromatic as time goes by.

It doesn't seem to be very stone-like, though; on the other hand, I'm glad it's not the cold, passionless embrace of Graphite Blue. By eight hours in, it is still present, still detectable, but it is growing airy, which means the end is near. Longevity is sufficient.

Overall, it's not bad if you're in need of a vetiver scent, but it didn't blow me away either. I prefer Autoportrait, myself, but if you have a thing for the subtle differences between vetivers, or if you really love the sawdust note, this scent's for you.

I've always wanted to enjoy a scent by Imaginary Authors but I have been denied, because they just didn't work on my skin. Their approach of crafting story-telling scents captured my heart, but this scent will be the first to capture my wallet.

Every Storm... begins with aqueous cedar and a smattering of something sweet and stays that way for quite a while. The effect is light, warm, masculine-leaning. By hour six, it takes a beachy direction, the arid/lonely scent of Dune (for men). It fits with the story and it's not all-encompassing as it was with Dune, which struck me as bleak and a bit depressing. By hour eight, it fades out with the tide, as a warm welcoming skin musk.

I like this. It's wistful, even a little melancholy without being isolating or hopeless. Its notes combine in novel ways to tell a story.

Full bottle worthy.

Reading some other reviews on this scent, I have detected that I don't get the notes delayed in stages -- the notes hit me all at once. That's strange, but especially strange for this fragrance, because they show up in force and then flee. In four to six hours, I have been ghosted. Where did Mr. Burberry go? I'm left pondering the question like someone after a crush moved without saying a word. However, this all began better than it ended. Let me explain.

Mr. Burberry shows up suave. This is a scent with presence -- not a powerhouse scent, so nearby windows are safe -- but a wrap-around you kind of silage. To my nose, it is subtly orange, with baby oil and a hint of pepper -- masculine and refined without exuding machismo. The orange is mostly aromatic and warm, not strongly individualistic. As time goes on, the scent alternates between soapy/clean and heavy, creamy, cozy/spicy. The baby oil is there, but I'm holding my fire, because the overall effect works.

By hour four it has amped down to vanilla. Not much later, Mr. Burberry has split apart -- one wrist has a creamy/vanilla scent, while the other wrist radiates orange. This is an unsettling ending, much like the confusing end to a relationship. There's no closure here, and even those into weird scents like I am, will probably find this unsatisfying. Mr. Burberry started off strong but lost his way, like he had wandered off into the woods to repeat phrases at greater and greater distances away. What went into the woods is not what eventually emerged.

If you're into the spicy/clean/soapy style scents, try Endymion (Penhaligon's) instead.