Chanel Allure Homme

Both versions of Chanel Allure, the masculine and the feminine, were launched in 1990s and have been around for a while. If I were forced to choose one for my personal use I wouldn't hesitate for a second and reach for the men's version any time. It's not that I'm that big of a fan, but the women's Allure hates my skin and turns into a screechy synthetic fruity mess upon contact. A mediocre oriental men's cologne is a huge improvement.

The zesty sharp citrus opening wasn't new and unique in 1999 and it certainly isn't now. Chanel simply went with the safest, easiest top note composition a department store shopper would never find objectionable while still detecting it clearly above the general smell of the place. This stage is so generic I'd have the hardest time picking Allure Homme in a blind lineup unless I spent a lot more time wearing it exclusively. But things get considerably better if not more special. The peppery wood, patchouli and a light ambery dry-down make it pleasant to wear and warm enough to enjoy. A man wearing this Chanel cologne to the office would get a reputation of smelling nice and it would probably work just as well on a date. It's a friendly scent with no jagged edges- it remains clean and crisp for a full day.

It's also boring, safe and lacks any individuality. Just look at the original 1999 ad campaign. Chanel took successful and accomplished men and posed them in a series of black and white shots without their names or anything to actually make them stand out. They sort of blend in with the brand and the others participants. From the New York Times:

The print ads are black and white, except for the enlarged Allure bottle, which is in color. The ads for both the men's and women's lines feature attractive people who are identified only by their professions, pursuits and residences, not by name, in an effort to add an element of mystery.

The Allure Homme ads, which carry the headline, ''Real men. Real Allure,'' feature a writer in New York City, a professional golfer in New York, a plastic surgeon in Beverly Hills, Calif., an architect in New York and an around-the-world solo sailor from France.

By Courtney Kane, Published: December 21, 2000

Bottom Line: The last time a bought a Chanel men's cologne for my father, I chose Antaeus. Make your own conclusion.

Chanel Allure Homme ($72, 3.4oz EDT) is available from most department stores and chanel.com.

All images from Chanel 1999 Allure Homme ad campaign: couleurparfum.com

Jean Paul Gaultier- Le Mâle

Earlier tonight my husband caught a whiff of Le Mâle- I was wearing it once again just before typing this review (I always do this. Somehow I can't write about Dreck du Jour while marinating in MKK or Shalimar. The adjective don't flow right). All he said was: "What's that? It's very familiar". Of course it is. Just about everyone and their brother-in-law have had a bottle of Jean Paul Gaultier's first masculine perfume, Le Mâle, at some point in the last 15 years, and most of them still do. You smell it everywhere- stores, subway cars, clubs. And why not? Le Male is such a friendly and easy to wear scent.

One of the secrets to the popularity of this Jean Paul Gaultier and Francis Kurkdjian creation is that it smells so clean while being one of those loud high voltage masculines you just can't ignore. It has a strong lavender-herbal-neroli opening that takes you right back to traditional barbershops and to well-groomed men of yore who had Yardley products and Brilliantine in their bathroom cabinets. On his Le Male review for NST, Kevin suggest the origin and true nature of Gaultier's fantasy sailors. He's probably right, considering the designer's aesthetics and other work. But my personal association with the image has always been the singing and dancing sailors from the 1949 Gene Kelly and Frank Sinatra movie On The Town.

But Le Male is not just a clean herbal cologne. It dries down to a sweet wood and amber snuggly base. That's probably the part that prompts men and women to get closer, sniff and linger there, right at neck level. It's sexy, but despite the tattooed sailors, it's more of an All-American wholesome kind of sexy. Or maybe I just got confused by the dancing sailors.

Jean Paul Gaultier Le Mâle ($42, 1.3oz EDT) is available from many department stores as well as from Sephora.

1996 Le Male ad featuring model David Fumero- couleurparfum.com
Photos from the On The Town set by Alfred Eisenstaedt, 1949 - life.com

Jean Paul Gaultier- Le Mâle

Earlier tonight my husband caught a whiff of Le Mâle- I was wearing it once again just before typing this review (I always do this. Somehow I can't write about Dreck du Jour while marinating in MKK or Shalimar. The adjective don't flow right). All he said was: "What's that? It's very familiar". Of course it is. Just about everyone and their brother-in-law have had a bottle of Jean Paul Gaultier's first masculine perfume, Le Mâle, at some point in the last 15 years, and most of them still do. You smell it everywhere- stores, subway cars, clubs. And why not? Le Male is such a friendly and easy to wear scent.

One of the secrets to the popularity of this Jean Paul Gaultier and Francis Kurkdjian creation is that it smells so clean while being one of those loud high voltage masculines you just can't ignore. It has a strong lavender-herbal-neroli opening that takes you right back to traditional barbershops and to well-groomed men of yore who had Yardley products and Brilliantine in their bathroom cabinets. On his Le Male review for NST, Kevin suggest the origin and true nature of Gaultier's fantasy sailors. He's probably right, considering the designer's aesthetics and other work. But my personal association with the image has always been the singing and dancing sailors from the 1949 Gene Kelly and Frank Sinatra movie On The Town.

But Le Male is not just a clean herbal cologne. It dries down to a sweet wood and amber snuggly base. That's probably the part that prompts men and women to get closer, sniff and linger there, right at neck level. It's sexy, but despite the tattooed sailors, it's more of an All-American wholesome kind of sexy. Or maybe I just got confused by the dancing sailors.

Jean Paul Gaultier Le Mâle ($42, 1.3oz EDT) is available from many department stores as well as from Sephora.

1996 Le Male ad featuring model David Fumero- couleurparfum.com
Photos from the On The Town set by Alfred Eisenstaedt, 1949 - life.com

Jean Paul Gaultier- Le Mâle

Earlier tonight my husband caught a whiff of Le Mâle- I was wearing it once again just before typing this review (I always do this. Somehow I can't write about Dreck du Jour while marinating in MKK or Shalimar. The adjective don't flow right). All he said was: "What's that? It's very familiar". Of course it is. Just about everyone and their brother-in-law have had a bottle of Jean Paul Gaultier's first masculine perfume, Le Mâle, at some point in the last 15 years, and most of them still do. You smell it everywhere- stores, subway cars, clubs. And why not? Le Male is such a friendly and easy to wear scent.

One of the secrets to the popularity of this Jean Paul Gaultier and Francis Kurkdjian creation is that it smells so clean while being one of those loud high voltage masculines you just can't ignore. It has a strong lavender-herbal-neroli opening that takes you right back to traditional barbershops and to well-groomed men of yore who had Yardley products and Brilliantine in their bathroom cabinets. On his Le Male review for NST, Kevin suggest the origin and true nature of Gaultier's fantasy sailors. He's probably right, considering the designer's aesthetics and other work. But my personal association with the image has always been the singing and dancing sailors from the 1949 Gene Kelly and Frank Sinatra movie On The Town.

But Le Male is not just a clean herbal cologne. It dries down to a sweet wood and amber snuggly base. That's probably the part that prompts men and women to get closer, sniff and linger there, right at neck level. It's sexy, but despite the tattooed sailors, it's more of an All-American wholesome kind of sexy. Or maybe I just got confused by the dancing sailors.

Jean Paul Gaultier Le Mâle ($42, 1.3oz EDT) is available from many department stores as well as from Sephora.

1996 Le Male ad featuring model David Fumero- couleurparfum.com
Photos from the On The Town set by Alfred Eisenstaedt, 1949 - life.com

Chanel Allure Homme

Both versions of Chanel Allure, the masculine and the feminine, were launched in 1990s and have been around for a while. If I were forced to choose one for my personal use I wouldn't hesitate for a second and reach for the men's version any time. It's not that I'm that big of a fan, but the women's Allure hates my skin and turns into a screechy synthetic fruity mess upon contact. A mediocre oriental men's cologne is a huge improvement.

The zesty sharp citrus opening wasn't new and unique in 1999 and it certainly isn't now. Chanel simply went with the safest, easiest top note composition a department store shopper would never find objectionable while still detecting it clearly above the general smell of the place. This stage is so generic I'd have the hardest time picking Allure Homme in a blind lineup unless I spent a lot more time wearing it exclusively. But things get considerably better if not more special. The peppery wood, patchouli and a light ambery dry-down make it pleasant to wear and warm enough to enjoy. A man wearing this Chanel cologne to the office would get a reputation of smelling nice and it would probably work just as well on a date. It's a friendly scent with no jagged edges- it remains clean and crisp for a full day.

It's also boring, safe and lacks any individuality. Just look at the original 1999 ad campaign. Chanel took successful and accomplished men and posed them in a series of black and white shots without their names or anything to actually make them stand out. They sort of blend in with the brand and the others participants. From the New York Times:

The print ads are black and white, except for the enlarged Allure bottle, which is in color. The ads for both the men's and women's lines feature attractive people who are identified only by their professions, pursuits and residences, not by name, in an effort to add an element of mystery.

The Allure Homme ads, which carry the headline, ''Real men. Real Allure,'' feature a writer in New York City, a professional golfer in New York, a plastic surgeon in Beverly Hills, Calif., an architect in New York and an around-the-world solo sailor from France.

By Courtney Kane, Published: December 21, 2000

Bottom Line: The last time a bought a Chanel men's cologne for my father, I chose Antaeus. Make your own conclusion.

Chanel Allure Homme ($72, 3.4oz EDT) is available from most department stores and chanel.com.

All images from Chanel 1999 Allure Homme ad campaign: couleurparfum.com

Chanel Allure Homme

Both versions of Chanel Allure, the masculine and the feminine, were launched in 1990s and have been around for a while. If I were forced to choose one for my personal use I wouldn't hesitate for a second and reach for the men's version any time. It's not that I'm that big of a fan, but the women's Allure hates my skin and turns into a screechy synthetic fruity mess upon contact. A mediocre oriental men's cologne is a huge improvement.

The zesty sharp citrus opening wasn't new and unique in 1999 and it certainly isn't now. Chanel simply went with the safest, easiest top note composition a department store shopper would never find objectionable while still detecting it clearly above the general smell of the place. This stage is so generic I'd have the hardest time picking Allure Homme in a blind lineup unless I spent a lot more time wearing it exclusively. But things get considerably better if not more special. The peppery wood, patchouli and a light ambery dry-down make it pleasant to wear and warm enough to enjoy. A man wearing this Chanel cologne to the office would get a reputation of smelling nice and it would probably work just as well on a date. It's a friendly scent with no jagged edges- it remains clean and crisp for a full day.

It's also boring, safe and lacks any individuality. Just look at the original 1999 ad campaign. Chanel took successful and accomplished men and posed them in a series of black and white shots without their names or anything to actually make them stand out. They sort of blend in with the brand and the others participants. From the New York Times:

The print ads are black and white, except for the enlarged Allure bottle, which is in color. The ads for both the men's and women's lines feature attractive people who are identified only by their professions, pursuits and residences, not by name, in an effort to add an element of mystery.

The Allure Homme ads, which carry the headline, ''Real men. Real Allure,'' feature a writer in New York City, a professional golfer in New York, a plastic surgeon in Beverly Hills, Calif., an architect in New York and an around-the-world solo sailor from France.

By Courtney Kane, Published: December 21, 2000

Bottom Line: The last time a bought a Chanel men's cologne for my father, I chose Antaeus. Make your own conclusion.

Chanel Allure Homme ($72, 3.4oz EDT) is available from most department stores and chanel.com.

All images from Chanel 1999 Allure Homme ad campaign: couleurparfum.com

Thierry Mugler- A*Men

I don't have the slightest idea why and how a woody gourmand men's cologne centered around chocolate and coffee has become one of the most controversial scents of modern times (just search the database of basenotes.net if you're unfamiliar with the issue). Then again, the decision to label this sweet and warm concoction a masculine is a bit questionable, though not more than Guerlain's Habit Rouge.

Mugler launched A*Men in 1996 as the male version of Angel, which might explain a thing or two. Personally, I can't deal with Angel. The rotting fruit note turns my stomach and makes me want to tell whoever is wearing it that she doesn't smell nearly as good as she thinks. I've heard Angel can actually be quite nice if applied very (very!) sparingly. Unfortunately, I have yet to meet an Angel fan that can restrict herself from bathing in its alleged yumminess.

A*Men is free of fruit, so it's all chocolate, caramel and coffee. To my nose it's closer to Innocent (which I love) than to the monstrosity of the original Angel. There's smokiness here, as a concession to masculine notes, and a cheerful herbal thread of bergamot-lavender-mint, though it took me ages of exploring to recognize the latter. It wears beautifully by itself and can be layered with orange scents. It's thicker than Hermes Elixir de Marveilles and lacks its luxurious feel, so this is more of a guilty pleasure. Then again, chocolate is always like that.  A*Men is easy and fun to wear as long as one likes velvety gourmands and has a sense of humor about some of the more colorful expressions on Basenotes.

In our home, I'm the one who wears this Thierry Mugler creation. The husband is not a fan of sweet or foody scents on his skin but enjoys them on me. Now that I think of it, I'm not sure I ever told him specifically that this is supposed to be a masculine fragrance. I doubt he'd believe me, anyway.

A*Men by Thierry Mugler ($57, 1.7 oz) is available from Sephora and most department stores.

Image: perfectcoffeeatwork.com

Thierry Mugler- A*Men

I don't have the slightest idea why and how a woody gourmand men's cologne centered around chocolate and coffee has become one of the most controversial scents of modern times (just search the database of basenotes.net if you're unfamiliar with the issue). Then again, the decision to label this sweet and warm concoction a masculine is a bit questionable, though not more than Guerlain's Habit Rouge.

Mugler launched A*Men in 1996 as the male version of Angel, which might explain a thing or two. Personally, I can't deal with Angel. The rotting fruit note turns my stomach and makes me want to tell whoever is wearing it that she doesn't smell nearly as good as she thinks. I've heard Angel can actually be quite nice if applied very (very!) sparingly. Unfortunately, I have yet to meet an Angel fan that can restrict herself from bathing in its alleged yumminess.

A*Men is free of fruit, so it's all chocolate, caramel and coffee. To my nose it's closer to Innocent (which I love) than to the monstrosity of the original Angel. There's smokiness here, as a concession to masculine notes, and a cheerful herbal thread of bergamot-lavender-mint, though it took me ages of exploring to recognize the latter. It wears beautifully by itself and can be layered with orange scents. It's thicker than Hermes Elixir de Marveilles and lacks its luxurious feel, so this is more of a guilty pleasure. Then again, chocolate is always like that.  A*Men is easy and fun to wear as long as one likes velvety gourmands and has a sense of humor about some of the more colorful expressions on Basenotes.

In our home, I'm the one who wears this Thierry Mugler creation. The husband is not a fan of sweet or foody scents on his skin but enjoys them on me. Now that I think of it, I'm not sure I ever told him specifically that this is supposed to be a masculine fragrance. I doubt he'd believe me, anyway.

A*Men by Thierry Mugler ($57, 1.7 oz) is available from Sephora and most department stores.

Image: perfectcoffeeatwork.com

Thierry Mugler- A*Men

I don't have the slightest idea why and how a woody gourmand men's cologne centered around chocolate and coffee has become one of the most controversial scents of modern times (just search the database of basenotes.net if you're unfamiliar with the issue). Then again, the decision to label this sweet and warm concoction a masculine is a bit questionable, though not more than Guerlain's Habit Rouge.

Mugler launched A*Men in 1996 as the male version of Angel, which might explain a thing or two. Personally, I can't deal with Angel. The rotting fruit note turns my stomach and makes me want to tell whoever is wearing it that she doesn't smell nearly as good as she thinks. I've heard Angel can actually be quite nice if applied very (very!) sparingly. Unfortunately, I have yet to meet an Angel fan that can restrict herself from bathing in its alleged yumminess.

A*Men is free of fruit, so it's all chocolate, caramel and coffee. To my nose it's closer to Innocent (which I love) than to the monstrosity of the original Angel. There's smokiness here, as a concession to masculine notes, and a cheerful herbal thread of bergamot-lavender-mint, though it took me ages of exploring to recognize the latter. It wears beautifully by itself and can be layered with orange scents. It's thicker than Hermes Elixir de Marveilles and lacks its luxurious feel, so this is more of a guilty pleasure. Then again, chocolate is always like that.  A*Men is easy and fun to wear as long as one likes velvety gourmands and has a sense of humor about some of the more colorful expressions on Basenotes.

In our home, I'm the one who wears this Thierry Mugler creation. The husband is not a fan of sweet or foody scents on his skin but enjoys them on me. Now that I think of it, I'm not sure I ever told him specifically that this is supposed to be a masculine fragrance. I doubt he'd believe me, anyway.

A*Men by Thierry Mugler ($57, 1.7 oz) is available from Sephora and most department stores.

Image: perfectcoffeeatwork.com

Bleu de Chanel

The business-oriented part of my brain understand why someone at Chanel decided they needed Bleu. Their main competitors in the big name market, Dior and YSL, have some super popular men's colognes. While Chanel has both classic and modern masculine perfumes, none have a distinct name and bottle (Allure Homme Edition Blanche doesn't sound very snappy). So why not claim the shelf space and place on the best selling list?

Bleu de Chanel smells exactly like a business decision. I have tons of respect for Jacques Polge, Chanel's in-house master perfumer, whose job is to practice his art while keeping the suits happy. But his latest creations, from Cristalle Eau Verte, Chance Whatever and Bleu only make me hope that whatever they pay him is worth it.

The top and heart notes of Bleu de Chanel are nothing but the generic fresh citrus wood thing you can get from far inferior labels. I guess I should be thankful they didn't overload it with stomach-turning calone or other aquatic aromachemicals, but it still smells flat and cheap. I didn't enjoy wearing it and didn't like it on the husband, either. Gym Locker fragrances are not my thing for either gender. Longevity isn't very impressive, but that's a good thing in this case. What's left in the late drydown (an hour later, that is), smells somewhat better- a pleasant soft woody nothing. It's sad that this is what sells-- faceless, shallow and bland clones of the same idea that wasn't all that exciting to begin with.

Bottom Line: Obviously, all the money went to paying Martin Scorsese for the commercial, not into making the juice.

Blaheu de Chanel ($59, 1.7oz) is available everywhere under the sun, online and in store.

Art: High Society by Rene Magritte, 1962

Bleu de Chanel

The business-oriented part of my brain understand why someone at Chanel decided they needed Bleu. Their main competitors in the big name market, Dior and YSL, have some super popular men's colognes. While Chanel has both classic and modern masculine perfumes, none have a distinct name and bottle (Allure Homme Edition Blanche doesn't sound very snappy). So why not claim the shelf space and place on the best selling list?

Bleu de Chanel smells exactly like a business decision. I have tons of respect for Jacques Polge, Chanel's in-house master perfumer, whose job is to practice his art while keeping the suits happy. But his latest creations, from Cristalle Eau Verte, Chance Whatever and Bleu only make me hope that whatever they pay him is worth it.

The top and heart notes of Bleu de Chanel are nothing but the generic fresh citrus wood thing you can get from far inferior labels. I guess I should be thankful they didn't overload it with stomach-turning calone or other aquatic aromachemicals, but it still smells flat and cheap. I didn't enjoy wearing it and didn't like it on the husband, either. Gym Locker fragrances are not my thing for either gender. Longevity isn't very impressive, but that's a good thing in this case. What's left in the late drydown (an hour later, that is), smells somewhat better- a pleasant soft woody nothing. It's sad that this is what sells-- faceless, shallow and bland clones of the same idea that wasn't all that exciting to begin with.

Bottom Line: Obviously, all the money went to paying Martin Scorsese for the commercial, not into making the juice.

Blaheu de Chanel ($59, 1.7oz) is available everywhere under the sun, online and in store.

Art: High Society by Rene Magritte, 1962

Bleu de Chanel

The business-oriented part of my brain understand why someone at Chanel decided they needed Bleu. Their main competitors in the big name market, Dior and YSL, have some super popular men's colognes. While Chanel has both classic and modern masculine perfumes, none have a distinct name and bottle (Allure Homme Edition Blanche doesn't sound very snappy). So why not claim the shelf space and place on the best selling list?

Bleu de Chanel smells exactly like a business decision. I have tons of respect for Jacques Polge, Chanel's in-house master perfumer, whose job is to practice his art while keeping the suits happy. But his latest creations, from Cristalle Eau Verte, Chance Whatever and Bleu only make me hope that whatever they pay him is worth it.

The top and heart notes of Bleu de Chanel are nothing but the generic fresh citrus wood thing you can get from far inferior labels. I guess I should be thankful they didn't overload it with stomach-turning calone or other aquatic aromachemicals, but it still smells flat and cheap. I didn't enjoy wearing it and didn't like it on the husband, either. Gym Locker fragrances are not my thing for either gender. Longevity isn't very impressive, but that's a good thing in this case. What's left in the late drydown (an hour later, that is), smells somewhat better- a pleasant soft woody nothing. It's sad that this is what sells-- faceless, shallow and bland clones of the same idea that wasn't all that exciting to begin with.

Bottom Line: Obviously, all the money went to paying Martin Scorsese for the commercial, not into making the juice.

Blaheu de Chanel ($59, 1.7oz) is available everywhere under the sun, online and in store.

Art: High Society by Rene Magritte, 1962

Givenchy Insensé

When Insensé was launched by Givenchy in 1993 the typical perfume shopper (be it the man or the woman who buys his grooming products) was not ready for it. Of course, that was before the niche perfume scene exploded- Serge Lutens has only opened his Salon a year earlier and Frederic Malle was still seven years away from launching his Editions de Parfums. A decade later, a men's fragrance in the style of Insensé might have been easy to accept from a smaller house, but in 1993 when designer scents started to be all about air and water, a big aldehydic fougere with a side of oakmoss had absolutely no chance.

Insensé is too complex for its own good. The aldehydes, lavender, bergamot and assorted greens make the top notes sharp and assertive. Insensé and its wearer are here to be noticed, and those sensitive to aldehydes are likely to recoil right away, especially if they associate this fizzy note with traditional and very French feminine fragrances. To keep things masculine there's quite a bit of greenery and balsamic resin. They are probably the reason Insensé was never fully embraced and adopted by women, unlike Givenchy Pi. Insensé, marketed as a masculine, has probably been perceived as neither here nor there and just too weird to have a mass appeal.

The thing is, Insensé might be one of the best scents of the early 90s. It's beautifully done, multifaceted and interesting. It has a quiet, confident elegance that comes from the fougere (lavender and green) accord, the dark gravitas of oakmoss and a very smooth, suave base. I wear it, masculine or not, because I like it and think it smells good on me. I recently decided it was time to share with the husband, who without knowing anything about it said the opening was borderline feminine. He thinks it's nice but is not (yet) a convert. More for me.

Givenchy Insensé was repackaged, most likely (though unconfirmed) reformulated and its current production status is unclear. The EDT in the original blue and yellow packaging can still be found here and there. Don't confuse it with the many flankers that came out under the name Insense Ultramarine.

Image: Givenchy Insensé 1994 ad- couleurparfum.com

Givenchy Insensé

When Insensé was launched by Givenchy in 1993 the typical perfume shopper (be it the man or the woman who buys his grooming products) was not ready for it. Of course, that was before the niche perfume scene exploded- Serge Lutens has only opened his Salon a year earlier and Frederic Malle was still seven years away from launching his Editions de Parfums. A decade later, a men's fragrance in the style of Insensé might have been easy to accept from a smaller house, but in 1993 when designer scents started to be all about air and water, a big aldehydic fougere with a side of oakmoss had absolutely no chance.

Insensé is too complex for its own good. The aldehydes, lavender, bergamot and assorted greens make the top notes sharp and assertive. Insensé and its wearer are here to be noticed, and those sensitive to aldehydes are likely to recoil right away, especially if they associate this fizzy note with traditional and very French feminine fragrances. To keep things masculine there's quite a bit of greenery and balsamic resin. They are probably the reason Insensé was never fully embraced and adopted by women, unlike Givenchy Pi. Insensé, marketed as a masculine, has probably been perceived as neither here nor there and just too weird to have a mass appeal.

The thing is, Insensé might be one of the best scents of the early 90s. It's beautifully done, multifaceted and interesting. It has a quiet, confident elegance that comes from the fougere (lavender and green) accord, the dark gravitas of oakmoss and a very smooth, suave base. I wear it, masculine or not, because I like it and think it smells good on me. I recently decided it was time to share with the husband, who without knowing anything about it said the opening was borderline feminine. He thinks it's nice but is not (yet) a convert. More for me.

Givenchy Insensé was repackaged, most likely (though unconfirmed) reformulated and its current production status is unclear. The EDT in the original blue and yellow packaging can still be found here and there. Don't confuse it with the many flankers that came out under the name Insense Ultramarine.

Image: Givenchy Insensé 1994 ad- couleurparfum.com

Givenchy Insensé

When Insensé was launched by Givenchy in 1993 the typical perfume shopper (be it the man or the woman who buys his grooming products) was not ready for it. Of course, that was before the niche perfume scene exploded- Serge Lutens has only opened his Salon a year earlier and Frederic Malle was still seven years away from launching his Editions de Parfums. A decade later, a men's fragrance in the style of Insensé might have been easy to accept from a smaller house, but in 1993 when designer scents started to be all about air and water, a big aldehydic fougere with a side of oakmoss had absolutely no chance.

Insensé is too complex for its own good. The aldehydes, lavender, bergamot and assorted greens make the top notes sharp and assertive. Insensé and its wearer are here to be noticed, and those sensitive to aldehydes are likely to recoil right away, especially if they associate this fizzy note with traditional and very French feminine fragrances. To keep things masculine there's quite a bit of greenery and balsamic resin. They are probably the reason Insensé was never fully embraced and adopted by women, unlike Givenchy Pi. Insensé, marketed as a masculine, has probably been perceived as neither here nor there and just too weird to have a mass appeal.

The thing is, Insensé might be one of the best scents of the early 90s. It's beautifully done, multifaceted and interesting. It has a quiet, confident elegance that comes from the fougere (lavender and green) accord, the dark gravitas of oakmoss and a very smooth, suave base. I wear it, masculine or not, because I like it and think it smells good on me. I recently decided it was time to share with the husband, who without knowing anything about it said the opening was borderline feminine. He thinks it's nice but is not (yet) a convert. More for me.

Givenchy Insensé was repackaged, most likely (though unconfirmed) reformulated and its current production status is unclear. The EDT in the original blue and yellow packaging can still be found here and there. Don't confuse it with the many flankers that came out under the name Insense Ultramarine.

Image: Givenchy Insensé 1994 ad- couleurparfum.com

Iseey Miyake L'Eau d'Issey Pour Homme

In recent years since I've started blogging, I'm occasionally approached by some well-meaning but somewhat misguided people who try to show how well-versed they are in perfume. They tend to ask me what I think of their favorite fragrance, L'Eau d'Issey Pour Homme. My reply is usually "Oh, it's a classic. Very popular". And then I try to talk about something else. Because while there is currently a bottle of this masculine Issey Miyake juice in my possession, I use it as an air freshener in the basement.

The thing is I find L'Eau d'Issey Pour Homme smells a lot nicer in the air than on a man's skin (or on mine). The aquatic-ozonic note is certainly fresh and clean and I like the brightness it brings. I just don't think a person's body should smell like air and water. It has a screechy chemical aura that I detect from afar and find unpleasant mixed with skin chemistry. All the sunshiny citrus note in the world (this Issey Miyake is supposed to have yuzu, mandarin and verbena) can't compensate for the aquatic accord, and the combination of that with a water lily is probably the part that doesn't sit well with me.

It's not that I'm opposed to citrus perfumes. I loved the original (pre-reformulation) Eau d'Hadrien, and if pressed to pick a more modern one I'd go with Parfumerie Generale Yuzu Ab Irato. However, generally speaking, a traditional but well made eau de cologne (such as the one from Chanel Les Exclusif) smells infinitely better.

L'Eau d'Issey Pour Homme is available everywhere under the sun for under $60.

Iseey Miyake L'Eau d'Issey Pour Homme

In recent years since I've started blogging, I'm occasionally approached by some well-meaning but somewhat misguided people who try to show how well-versed they are in perfume. They tend to ask me what I think of their favorite fragrance, L'Eau d'Issey Pour Homme. My reply is usually "Oh, it's a classic. Very popular". And then I try to talk about something else. Because while there is currently a bottle of this masculine Issey Miyake juice in my possession, I use it as an air freshener in the basement.

The thing is I find L'Eau d'Issey Pour Homme smells a lot nicer in the air than on a man's skin (or on mine). The aquatic-ozonic note is certainly fresh and clean and I like the brightness it brings. I just don't think a person's body should smell like air and water. It has a screechy chemical aura that I detect from afar and find unpleasant mixed with skin chemistry. All the sunshiny citrus note in the world (this Issey Miyake is supposed to have yuzu, mandarin and verbena) can't compensate for the aquatic accord, and the combination of that with a water lily is probably the part that doesn't sit well with me.

It's not that I'm opposed to citrus perfumes. I loved the original (pre-reformulation) Eau d'Hadrien, and if pressed to pick a more modern one I'd go with Parfumerie Generale Yuzu Ab Irato. However, generally speaking, a traditional but well made eau de cologne (such as the one from Chanel Les Exclusif) smells infinitely better.

L'Eau d'Issey Pour Homme is available everywhere under the sun for under $60.

Iseey Miyake L'Eau d'Issey Pour Homme

In recent years since I've started blogging, I'm occasionally approached by some well-meaning but somewhat misguided people who try to show how well-versed they are in perfume. They tend to ask me what I think of their favorite fragrance, L'Eau d'Issey Pour Homme. My reply is usually "Oh, it's a classic. Very popular". And then I try to talk about something else. Because while there is currently a bottle of this masculine Issey Miyake juice in my possession, I use it as an air freshener in the basement.

The thing is I find L'Eau d'Issey Pour Homme smells a lot nicer in the air than on a man's skin (or on mine). The aquatic-ozonic note is certainly fresh and clean and I like the brightness it brings. I just don't think a person's body should smell like air and water. It has a screechy chemical aura that I detect from afar and find unpleasant mixed with skin chemistry. All the sunshiny citrus note in the world (this Issey Miyake is supposed to have yuzu, mandarin and verbena) can't compensate for the aquatic accord, and the combination of that with a water lily is probably the part that doesn't sit well with me.

It's not that I'm opposed to citrus perfumes. I loved the original (pre-reformulation) Eau d'Hadrien, and if pressed to pick a more modern one I'd go with Parfumerie Generale Yuzu Ab Irato. However, generally speaking, a traditional but well made eau de cologne (such as the one from Chanel Les Exclusif) smells infinitely better.

L'Eau d'Issey Pour Homme is available everywhere under the sun for under $60.

Guerlain Habit Rouge

Several years before Ralph Lauren used horsey-set images and branding for his colognes and perfumes, Guerlain did the same thing with Habit Rouge. So what does a masculine perfume named something like "red riding hood" smell like? Surprisingly, pretty much like a butched up Shalimar.

It makes sense, really. Shalimar, at least in its former incarnations, is gorgeous and very complex. Many men like Shalimar and would have loved to wear it, but not everyone finds it easy to get over the branding, marketing and that powdery facet. So Guerlain kept the structure, the citrus top (made even crisper with spicy greens), the smooth sandalwood and rich amber base, took away some of the powder, added leather and poured into a pour homme bottle. The result is a smooth and sophisticated scent, lighter than Shalimar but still instantly recognizable as an oriental Guerlain.

Habit Rouge is sweet and creamy, thus making it stand out from the crowd of commercial masculines of the last couple of decades. Of course, it is a 1960s creation, a time when a good perfume was not a thin airy little nothing. I would have liked to conduct a blind testing of the Guerlain classic masculines in a college dorm and see the young men's (and women's) reaction. After all, this is the generation born into a world of CKWhatever.

In any case, those of us who like to dig deeper when searching for a good perfume can easily appreciate Habit Rouge. It's one of those masculines women like to adopt for themselves just as much as to smell on a man's neck (it promotes some serious nuzzling). I originally bought the (vintage EDC) bottle for the Blond, but have found myself wearing it often during this sizzling summer, often as a morning scent before switching to vintage Shalimar EDC. It's a splash bottle, but I find that dabbing isn't very satisfying (it is an eau de cologne, after all, so I shouldn't be surprised). Spraying gives a better impression of this sweet but tasteful concoction, and while the modern version seems a bit flat and less leathery, it's still light years better than any of the modern Guerlain releases for men.

Vintage Habit Rouge perfume ads: vintageadbrowser.com

Guerlain Habit Rouge

Several years before Ralph Lauren used horsey-set images and branding for his colognes and perfumes, Guerlain did the same thing with Habit Rouge. So what does a masculine perfume named something like "red riding hood" smell like? Surprisingly, pretty much like a butched up Shalimar.

It makes sense, really. Shalimar, at least in its former incarnations, is gorgeous and very complex. Many men like Shalimar and would have loved to wear it, but not everyone finds it easy to get over the branding, marketing and that powdery facet. So Guerlain kept the structure, the citrus top (made even crisper with spicy greens), the smooth sandalwood and rich amber base, took away some of the powder, added leather and poured into a pour homme bottle. The result is a smooth and sophisticated scent, lighter than Shalimar but still instantly recognizable as an oriental Guerlain.

Habit Rouge is sweet and creamy, thus making it stand out from the crowd of commercial masculines of the last couple of decades. Of course, it is a 1960s creation, a time when a good perfume was not a thin airy little nothing. I would have liked to conduct a blind testing of the Guerlain classic masculines in a college dorm and see the young men's (and women's) reaction. After all, this is the generation born into a world of CKWhatever.

In any case, those of us who like to dig deeper when searching for a good perfume can easily appreciate Habit Rouge. It's one of those masculines women like to adopt for themselves just as much as to smell on a man's neck (it promotes some serious nuzzling). I originally bought the (vintage EDC) bottle for the Blond, but have found myself wearing it often during this sizzling summer, often as a morning scent before switching to vintage Shalimar EDC. It's a splash bottle, but I find that dabbing isn't very satisfying (it is an eau de cologne, after all, so I shouldn't be surprised). Spraying gives a better impression of this sweet but tasteful concoction, and while the modern version seems a bit flat and less leathery, it's still light years better than any of the modern Guerlain releases for men.

Vintage Habit Rouge perfume ads: vintageadbrowser.com