Acteur
Azzaro (1989)

This could be a gateway rose scent for me. I have never been a great fan of the smell of roses--in the garden, in perfume--and I hate the taste of rosewater in cooking. That said, this winey, fruity, herbal leather scent is so well blended that I do not focus solely on the rose but more on the sum of the parts of this fragrance. Yes, there is a nod to the Gothic, but this is at heart the scent of a well groomed bon vivant. A glass of vintage wine by his side, bench-made leather shoes on his feet, sitting in an old, wood-paneled room with just a trace of musky humanity coming through the expensive soap. Yes, he may be waiting for the sun to set before he heads out for the night, but what of it? And, yes, there may be the thud of velvet-petalled roses thrown into an open grave, and why not? One has to lean into all of that to wear this scent. You may never lean back.

Acteur was launched two years after Chanel released (and then quickly withdrew) Bois Noir, the predecessor to Egoiste. This warrants a mention because they bear a distinct similarity in the plummy rose accord that is a prominent note in both. The difference between them is that BN and Egoiste rest on a lavender base where Acteur's foundation is oakmoss. But where the Chanel offerings blast out of the nozzle with a raspy dose of lavender which dominates the rose, Acteur is softer and smoother and lets the rose note share the stage. Acteur is more proof of why the late 80's and early 90's are the apex years of men's fragrance. I have a lot of back-up for Acteur and wear it often, especially in the fall and winter. To my nose, it is every bit a masterpiece as BN and Egoiste and can still garner inquiries and compliments.

And at this writing, Acteur can still be found at semi-reasonable prices, considering it's been out of production for years.

A seductive, boozy rose, wrapped in brushed leather and dried fruits. Come to Papa.

This must have been bizarre upon its release in 1989, when the world of masculine fragrances was just coming off the heels of powerhouse chypres and often brassy fougeres. Don't be mistaken though, this does have its own panache, but it was so left field for its time (much like Paco Rabanne Ténéré) that it wasn't commercially successful. These days, a scent similar to this is de rigeur (see Etro ManRose).

I wear this when I want to be reminded that there is a sophisticated side to me. I am not quite as simple as the world would like me to think.

One of the best Rose masculines in existence.

Centered, not too green, not too jammy, not too dark; juuuust riiiight.

A must try while vintage specimens are available at reasonable prices.

He walking slowly through a room. A bat changes into him, approaches a sleeping woman and bites her neck. Acteur makes me think about Dracula. Gardens, romance, sex, and red roses. A sort of european erotic dream, from france to romania. Leather, rose, oakmoss, patchouli, such a powerful combination with the rose most precious of all notes. Soapy but in a way that conveys a kind of powerful maturity. It's a scent to enjoy quality, not for the messes.

It's super loud and almost headache inducing at the top. After the opening the herbs come in and the scent into soapiness. But pushing subtly under that cloud of soapineness is something sharp, dark; rose give this scent something sharper in the sense of woodiness and push away the soapiness, giving way to spice, floral and citrus. The dry down is incredibly smooth leathery scent. It is best for occasions of formality, important meetings or socializing perhaps with cigars and fine whiskey with other convivial gentlemen.

Loris Azzaro's Acteur takes the stage with a plum swagger, waving to the cheap seats with a spicy sweet flag, and shaking a heavy rose rump with peppery zeal and a bergamot bite; followed dutifully by a cast of jasmine dancers, carnation strippers, patchouli tamers and cedar mimes; giving way to a mercurial leathery oakmoss finish that is outfitted with shoulder pads of amber and musk. Take a bow, dear Acteur for celebrating the rose carny... The dark rose leather of Acteur remains cultish, out of step then and now, dandy-esque, and simply to be embraced. A Jacques Brel meets Marc Almond kind of number...