Geo F Trumper Eucris

Geo Trumper is one of those seemingly quaint businesses that can only be found in England. There is quite a history to Trumper, gentlemen perfumers  from Jermyn Street in St James, London. I used to work a couple of blocks away from Jermyn Street, on the dividing line between Piccadilly and Mayfair, and I spent many a lunchtime strolling the arcades between Piccadilly and Jermyn Street. St James itself is home to many gentleman clubs and one can still find many venerable institutions on and around Jermyn Street such as Dunhill, Trufitt and Hill, Trumper, Fortnum & Mason and Paxton & Whitfield (cheeses) to name but a few. I have been waiting to try Eucris for some time. We have a local chemist that stocks a surprisingly extensive range of Trumper products and within the last month they've started stocking Eucris. The notes include blackcurrant, cumin, coriander, jasmin, muguet, musk, sandalwood and moss. Now, if that isn't an intriguing list then I don't know what is. Eucris opens with a tart, fruity note, tinged with green, that I presume is the blackcurrant. It smells like both the fruit and the leaf. Although not listed, it smells like there is a bit of citrus in here too. After this initial opening, I detect a powdery oakmoss  emerging, which strengthens considerably. Eucris, like many of the other Trumper fragrances, smells very cologne-like and quite traditional. Despite the list of notes, I don't detect much florals here, nor spiciness. I don't know if it is a skin chemistry thing, but I failed to pick up much more than just a hint of cumin, while the jasmine and muguet completely eluded me; if they are here, they are very well disguised, or my nose is not trained well enough. One thing there is no shortage of is oakmoss. It is apparent from just after the opening right the way through to the far dry down and lends the perfume quite a dry, mossy chypre style. Again, the woods don't make a huge impact on my skin either and in the end Eucris wears on my skin as quite a severe, dry chypre. In a way it felt a bit like Mitsouko to me, not so much in exact smell, but perhaps a little in style, but more overtly masculine.

Do I like Eucris? Well, I'm not sure. It is a strange perfume and I think I need to give it a few more wearings to make a truly fair assessment. It is not quite like anything else I've worn before, which makes it quite intriguing to me, but I can see this as being a bit hit or miss for many. I don't know how many of you ladies are familiar with the Trumper line. Perhaps give some of them a go - there are other oddities in the line too, such as Eau de Quinine for example, while many are unapologetically masculine, but don't let that scare you. After all, if I can wear tuberose to work, you can stray over to the dark side that is Geo F Trumper! 

Jacques Bogart Silver Scent

It's seldom that I completely dismiss a fragrance. I like to think that I give most a fair chance, even those that don't begin promisingly. In fact, probably more so if they don't, because these can often surprise. However, I'm afraid to say that Silver Scent is not one of those. The notes include citrus notes, aromatic notes, orange blossom, spices, geranium, oud wood, teak bark, tonka bean and vetiver. On paper that reads as delicious and intriguing. The reality is very different though. Silver Scent opens with an astringent blast of synthetic citrus, cloying and so strong and vaporous that it made me gag and want to cough. I smell a lot of orange blossom, but it smells like flat orange soda. There is a sourness to this perfume that reminds me of clothes washed with cheap laundry detergent that haven't dried properly. You must have had this happen to you before - it isn't a nice smell. Later on the fragrance does mellow slightly but it is still pungent, penetrating, entirely synthetic in every way and I couldn't carry on with it; I had to wash it off. On paper it smelled even worse, but I still got that same sour clothes/detergent odour. I hate to be so dismissive of a perfume and perhaps one of you has even tried it and perhaps liked it, and if so, my apologies, but still, this is hideous, at least to me. What makes it even worse is that Silver Scent has such a great list of notes, but this does not remotely translate to the actual product. Pass.

Annick Goutal Eau de Sud

I find the Annick Goutal line a strange one. A lot of the feminine perfumes are rich, floral, blowsy perfumes; think Songes for example, while the masculines are mainly citrus-based, and slightly offbeat. Then you get the really odd, like Mandragore or Sables. This is not to say that Annick Goutal is a poor line. Far from it in fact, but I would say that generally speaking it doesn't float my boat. However, Eau de Sud is one that I really like. I think if you are looking for a citrus fragrance with a twist, and more importantly, one that can stand up to a bit of heat and humidity without fading within an hour, Eau de Sud might just be for you. The notes listed include bergamot, mandarin, grapefruit, lemon verbena, peppermint, basil, persian lime and woods. If this sounds very citrusy, it is, and the opening is a brisk, mouth-puckering blast of citrus, yet to me, not like a traditional cologne. The citrus fades to reveal quite a herbal heart, what with the basil, peppermint and the sort of citrusy, yet fragrant lime. In fact, later on Eau de Sud reminds me quite a lot of Eau Savage by Christian Dior; I think it might be the combination of citrus, verbena and basil in particular. For some reason I also find there is a saltiness to Eau De Sud, but not so much a sea saltiness, but the sort of saltiness you find when you lick the cut peel of a lovely, fragrant lemon. Have you ever found that with lemon? In spirit, I am also reminded a little of Sel de Vetiver, again not in actual smell, but that sensation of inhaling a humid, salt-laden breeze at the coast on a summery day.

Eau de Sud to me is a better and more interesting fragrance than the other well-known citrus in the Goutal line, Eau d'Hadrian. As I've already said, it is a citrus fragrance, but it has more going on than the usual suspects. It has enough herbs and woods to give it some longevity and interest, yet it remains fairly light and perfect for a warm summer day. While I suspect it might be favoured by men, I can't see any reason why a lady can't wear this. It is perfectly unisex and actually comes in both the masculine bottle pictured above left, and in the more usual, feminine bottle used by Goutal. I think it is a lovely perfume and highly recommend giving it a try.

Editions De Parfums Frederic Malle French Lover

French Lover (or Bois D'orage as it is known in the US) was one of the first fragrances I sampled from the Frederic Malle line. In many ways I had only recently become addicted to the whole perfume thing and Frederic Malle was about as niche as could be, for me, and in many ways still is. I admire quite a few perfumes from the line, but I would say that in general, they are not easy perfumes to like; they require a bit of perseverance and even then, there are some you might not grow to like. French Lover is one of those for me. For some reason I have never taken to it, although I do acknowledge that it has a certain something about it. The notes include pimento, galbanum, iris, angelica, cedarwood and vetiver. Other sources list incense, patchouli, mosses, musk, clove and bergamot. What I do know is that French Lover opens with a crackerjack shot of pepper/pink pepper, that reminds me almost of gunpowder, which I think might be the initial burst of galbanum. It is dry, dusty and almost cough-inducing, but as the top notes fade a more recognisable galbanum note seeps through, greener and sappier. Alongside this I detect a very definite clove note and some musk and cedar. There is a floral vibe going as well, or I thought it was floral but perhaps it is angelica. After about fifteen minutes or so I detected a vaguely sour note, slightly spicy and citrusy, which I thought is bergamot. That strange gunpowder note lingers. 

French Lover kept on reminding me of another perfume. At first I couldn't put my finger on it and then it struck me: Isfarkand by Ormonde Jayne. Isfarkand is all about pink pepper, musk and cedar, not a huge leap from pimento, musk, spices and cedar, it must be said. Thinking about it a bit more, I also detect a similarity to Cartier Declaration, without the cumin note. Into the heart and early dry down French Lover softens considerably, with a sweeter mossy note that strengthens and takes this into less austere territory. I must say that I don't detect any iris or patchouli, but that's not to say they aren't there. 

Writing this, I still can't quite say why I don't like French Lover more. It is a good perfume and I know it has lots of fans out there. Perhaps it's the association first of all - I don't personally think French Lover is a very apt name for it. I don't find it a particularly sexy fragrance. If anything it is quite austere and severe, particularly in the first third of development, but that's just my personal take on it. I think it is definitely one of the more masculine fragrances in the Malle line, but having said that, it would be interesting to smell this on a woman. I think a lady who enjoys the style embodied by Ormonde Jayne in particular would quite possibly enjoy this.

Image credit: a33.idata.over-blog.com

Diptyque Tam Dao

Tam Dao is a fragrance that I actually own a full bottle of, a rare occurrence   for me, as I don't make a lot of full-bottle purchases. I am relatively familiar with the Diptyque line, having sampled Philosykos, Ofresia, L'eau de l'eau,  Neroli and Lierre. It's one of those fragrance lines that always strikes me as being effortlessly chic, not trying too hard, yet occupying a fairly niche position in the perfume world. I find almost all their fragrances relatively simple and understated, but curiously contemplative, none more so than Tam Dao. Sandalwood is renowned for inducing this almost meditative state in various forms, and it is no exception with Tam Dao, which is probably one of the most linear sandalwood perfumes I know. However, simple is not inferior, and Tam Dao is a marvelous perfume. The notes listed are sandalwood, rosewood, ambergris and cypress. Four notes and they combine effortlessly to produce a calming zen-like journey to the east. Tam Dao opens with sandalwood, which never leaves. It is quite a sweet opening, which might be the combination of the creaminess of sandalwood, the effect of rosewood and the greenness of cypress. Just cutting through is a slight smokiness, almost incense-like, but slightly salty, a bit like an ocean breeze loaded with ozone, in a good way, believe me. I take this to be the ambergris accord. I read somewhere once that Tam Dao has real ambergris in it, but having read a fair bit about ambergris and its scarcity, I would be surprised if this is the case, but it does smell very much as described. 

Once the top fades, the sweetness is gone for good and Tam Dao becomes dry and fairly linear. It is still faintly smoky and salty and as already said, the sandalwood is top notch here. If you want a good reference point for sandalwood, I would recommend trying Tam Dao. I think it is a perfectly unisex fragrance, although for some reason I can't help thinking it might be preferred mostly by men, but ladies, you could do far worse than giving it a go. 

Tam Dao wears quite close to the skin and it is subtle, calming and very much takes me on a personal journey. I love to wear it in the evenings, particularly on a warm, slightly sultry evening, when its smoky, sea-laden mixture of woods takes me away to a place I can't quite reach in everyday life.

Image credit: thebroadroom.net/images/

Alexander McQueen Kingdom

Following on from my previous post, I thought I would do a review of Kingdom today. Kingdom is one of those perfumes that has a reputation for being somewhat, shall we say, skanky. Like a lot of second hand knowledge that proliferates on the internet, I think this reputation is somewhat exaggerated. A common theme that emerges, particularly on Basenotes, I find, is that Kingdom smells a bit like a woman's unwashed genitals. Gasp. The note that is most talked about in this perfume is cumin, one of those ingredients that tends to polarise opinions. You get those that adore cumin and those that are cuminphobes. I personally fall into the former category. Getting back to genitals, I am not by any means a leading expert on lady bits and their odour, but in my limited experience, cumin smells far more like sweat than sex, the sort of sweat that comes from armpits or slightly stale clothes. But, I should stress, to my nose not dirty bodies or clothes, but merely used. In any event, in most cases cumin smells spicy to me rather than sweaty and I like it. 

I'll get back to the boudoir in a minute, but the notes per perfumeguide.co.uk include neroli, ginger, rose, jasmine, lily, cumin, sandalwood and myrrh. I purchased Kingdom as a blind buy about two years ago on sale at a local department store, for the princely sum of £15 - for 75ml of eau de toilette juice. My bottle is the one pictured top left, but the usual bottle seems to be more of a three-dimensional heart shape, which I suspect is the eau de parfum. I wonder how much a bottle costs now that McQueen has sadly passed away? I had heard even before his death that Kingdom was out of production and becoming harder to find anyway. On my skin Kingdom opens very bright and citrusy, with quite a punch of florals too. It is the most feminine phase in my opinion, in what I think is far more of a unisex perfume than is given credit. The citrus dies away very quickly, leaving an emerging rose note that mingles wonderfully with a little jasmine and a well done zing of ginger. As the cumin starts to seep though the character of Kingdom changes from fresh and dewy to something slightly more avaricious. The heart of this perfume is all about the interplay of the rose and cumin and it is wonderful in my opinion. The rose, which starts as quite fresh and innocent, becomes not darker, but almost jammy. If one could take hundreds of rose petals, steep them in sugar syrup infused with lightly roasted cumin, and boil until a jam is formed, I think one would arrive at something approximating what Kingdom is at this stage. I think if anything, it is this jam-like, slightly sweet, yet seductively spicy, even marginally sweaty accord that some think smells a bit like female parts. I think. I may be wrong. For a very short while I can make this association if I think very hard, but ultimately, I just find Kingdom downright sexy, without having to analyse it to death.

The sandalwood makes its presence felt not long after this and I think the myrrh blends in quite well, lending a slightly sour, dusty note that goes very well with the wood and spice, and tempers the jammy rose at the same time. Into the dry down and Kingdom becomes for me a classic spicy rose combo, fairly linear hereon in, but still compelling. I don't know if it is just me, but I don't find Kingdom that feminine. I think if the spicy cumin was missing, the rose might become a bit too sweet and cloying, but it is well balanced. I think Kingdom wears better in warmer weather; I've been wearing it quite a lot this summer and it is working wonderfully on my skin. It is not a heavy fragrance, and if anything, the rose and spices make it seem almost refreshing. In fact, I would say if you are looking to wear something this summer that does not involve the usual citrus cologne, give Kingdom a go, if you can still find it, and before it gets expensive.

Juliette Has a Gun

I noticed that our local Fenwick department store, which already has some decent niche-ish fragrance lines such as Serge Lutens, Van Cleef & Arpels, Creed and Penhaligons is now stocking the Juliette Has a Gun line too. A while back, when I was going through a bit of an oud phase, I had thought of ordering a sample of Midnight Oud, but for some reason never got round to it. Midnight Oud is not included here, but I think I have read that it was only a limited edition anyway, so perhaps that is why. I understand that Juliette is a line of rose-centered perfumes and I must say that this does appear to be the case. I tried the whole range on paper, but only tried Calamity J on skin. My wife, who is not a huge perfume fan, but does like rose, enjoyed all of them, which is a rare occurrence for her! I must say that none of them blew me out the water - they are all solid, decent perfumes, but I think if you are someone who has had some niche exposure, particularly to some of the edgier rose fragrances around, you might be left feeling slightly let down. Having said that, I thought they were all quite nice. 

The reason I wore Calamity J is that I had read that it is the most masculine in the line. I can't believe I just wrote that - I thought I was a male who is not averse to pushing the so-called gender boundary in perfume, but hey ho, that's how I felt today. Calamity J is nice, no two ways about it. It is quite a gentle fragrance though, slightly spicy, slightly ambery, with a rose accord that is neither too dewy and girly, nor grandma powdery. I really liked it and it wore well on my skin. I felt that it was perfectly unisex and I would wear it again without hesitation. Having said that, I possess samples of what I believe are better and more daring rose perfumes, such as Frederic Malle Un Rose, Le Labo Rose 31, Rose Poivre by The Different Company, Voleur de Roses by L'Artisan and I could go on. In fact, one of my more interesting rose perfumes (funnily enough the only one that I own a full bottle of) is Alexander Mcqueen's Kingdom, which I bought for £15 on a sale about two years ago, but that will be the subject of a separate review another day.

But I like the Juliette Has a Gun line. The bottles in particular are quite striking and have a nice heft and feel in the hand. They are solidly built and look lovely. The juice is decent too, if not groundbreaking, but if you are someone who is looking to move on from department store rose staples such as Stella and Paul Smith, you could do worse than giving this line a go.