Aramis 
Aramis (1965)

I have a soft spot for Aramis as it was the first designer fragrance that I bought as a young adult back in the 90s. Even back then Aramis was a classic, older player in the fragrance scene but was still holding its own and considered respectable. Today this 56 year old fragrance is still remaining relevant and very wearable. It is a masculine fragrance that opens with strong sandalwood and vetiver tones and dries down to a nice leather note. I find that after 30 to 40 minutes it stays relatively close to the skin so I would say sillage is very average but longevity is good, I generally get 6 to 8 hours of wear out of it. Aramis is definitely a more mature fragrance but one that a younger man could wear in conservative work and social situations such as at the office or a formal dinner. All round a great fragrance that has stood the test of time.

I'm possibly a bit biased as it's one of those scents that reminds me of my dad back in the 80's but I still like it as a scent while I'm working from home. Would I wear it for a special occasion? Probably not. The opening notes are pretty harsh, almost a urine tinge to them but once they settle after 30 minutes or so, they work into a classic cologne. Happy memories.

Aramis(1965)
I had a small bottle of this in the 1980s but never could figure out or wear Aramis, I would smell it on occasion in the bottle as a youngster and it smelled strong and harsh to my young nose. Almost 30 years later I am now old enough to pull this off. Kind of. At home. I haven't worn Aramis in public and it wouldn't fly at work. Aramis deserves to continue its ongoing production and it is a legend. It is not however as wearable of a 20th century masterpiece in the 21st century as Azzaro Pour Homme(1978) is. I wear that regularly, have a large bottle and will replenish. Aramis is a 15 mil occasional wear around the house reference scent. Still worthy of thumbs up on legacy alone.

Google "Herbal. Leather. Chypre." and you will see a picture of an unassuming bottle, adorned with lower case letters and a gold plastic cap. Aramis IS the definition.

Even re-formulated to soften the edges, there is a reason this stalwart is still in the game 55 years on.

Wear with caution in warmer weather as the cumin note has the potential to blow your hair back. Under normal conditions, Aramis quiets down around 10 minutes after the first spray.

Some may condemn Aramis as outdated, but when you are still swinging a 20 lb sledge after 50+ years are you really concerned about the opinion of others anyway?

4 stars.

Aramis, that woody leather stalwart; doesn't it smell kind of Old Man these days?
Well, maybe...

When I haven't worn it for a while, I remember Aramis as a mix of walnut burr and dark brown leather, the hoary old grandfather of a thousand chypres. And that's just what it is, sort of...

Aramis hails from 1964, which was a pretty dark year in many ways: Vietnam, race riots in the US, the police inciting more riots by breaking up Rolling Stones gigs ... and meanwhile in England, Pete Townsend was smashing up his first guitar on stage. But there was also a lighter side to '64: the effervescent Mary Poppins appeared in cinemas for the first time, the Moog synthesiser was born, and there was Beatlemania on both sides of the pond.

Looking at Aramis from the vantage point of half a century we can see how it reflects the times, both dark and light. It could be said that the dark woody leather of Aramis feels heavy and passé, rather old fashioned these days. But like Sean Connery in the role of James Bond, Aramis has a suave Cool that goes deeper than any trend, it has that timeless quality, Style.
And this is because, like the year, there is another, lighter side to Aramis that bursts out of the opening like the 'driing' at the start of A Hard Day's Night, a thrilling accord of citrus and aromatics that turns a dull leather chypre into something quite wonderful. Spray it on fabric and this blue aromatic overlay continues to leaven the brown woody leather for ages, giving Aramis the kind of finesse you would expect from a most refined fougére. This was inspired stuff from Bernard Chant, one of the best of his chypres, the genre he excelled in.

1964, what a year... Goldfinger, Hard Day's Night, Aramis: you wait ages for a masterpiece and then three come along all at once!

*****

Modern FB

I decided recently to reduce the fragrances in my rotation to a handful of bottles... In the midst of purging, I made one exception and picked up a new bottle of Aramis. Having owned a vintage bottle in the past that I missed, I started reading & researching and came to two conclusions:

1. A surprising amount of reviewers I like & trust (& consider very discerning and informed) seem to respect this fragrance... Because of its popularity during my childhood (70's-80's), I'd kind of taken it for granted as a cliché, and not devoted much thought to its origins or influence.

2. Most of the things I really like are 30-50 years old. I have given up questioning this, and more or less accepted that I gravitate towards classics, especially those that embody an idea very definitively -- Aramis ticks those boxes.

I've been wearing it now off and on for a couple of weeks (and missing it on the days when I skip) and finding myself very enamoured of it... I'm still getting to know the composition but will say right now that I think that reviews that reach for hyperbolic masculine descriptors are misguided. This is a tight, straight-up stoic herbal leather chypre... so much so that you really won't smell anything like it outside of some niche things; it's so "original" it's practically conceptual. It does remind me of Hermès' Bel Ami and Chanel's Antaeus in its use of Mediterranean herbs, patchouli, vetiver, moss and castoreum, but is less self-consciously 'artistic' than either of these excellent fragrances. Like its more expensive cousins, Aramis commutes a tenacious and convincing leatheriness with both humid and dry sensations, moving from a bitter opening to a comforting drydown. I think it's actually less helpful to compare it to something as deliberately beguiling as Kouros than it is to a focused thesis like Chanel Pour Monsieur... If you think of it that way (classically composed yet accessible, self-contained with hidden depths) then its close-grained texture and thoughtful development will match your expectations handsomely.

Aramis opens with a bitter edge of green artemisia/sour galbanum tinged with a fleeting whiff of bergamot; lifted into freshness by waxy aldehydes and sweetened by gardenia, the result feels almost like orange blossom...and lasts about ten seconds. Almost immediately the major players take the stage: a castoreum accord arrives with its animalic, nutty-boozy oiliness, while moss introduces a neutral ashy tonality. Vetiver, thyme and sage fill out a series of woody, angular and savoury flavours that challenge and complement the unguent sweetness of the castoreum, itself enhanced by a dogged smokiness (myrrh?)

For the first hour of projection, the perfume seems to gain in strength... A dusty sweatiness I'd associate with cumin appears (this is very appealing to me) and then gradually recedes, giving way to a soothing drydown defined by patchouli, pepper, a dry woodshop spicyness, and musks...one that is fast becoming one of my favourites. Markedly memorable and habit forming, it accompanies you as a wafting aura for another few hours before fading to traces that merge almost seamlessly with a body's natural scent.

The dominant motif throughout is, as others have said, a very convincing worn-in working leather (broken-in work gloves or equestrian gear), polished by a cool, clove-tinged tannins that might remind you of the phenolic properties of chestnuts, pure chocolate or dark-roast coffee... like these tastes that one comes to appreciate neat, its appeals lies in its starkness; I completely agree with the reviewer below who compares Aramis to a pleasantly bitter cup of coffee. Someone has said that the whole point of a chypre is the balancing of opposites; this is both dark and uplifting, parched but with a polish that conveys seriousness lightened by easygoing allure. As such, it's a steady confidence builder.

A note about performance... I used to own a bottle from 2006, that might have been a touch skankier and more herbal in its opening but was otherwise fairly similar to what I have now (a 2016 batch, with ingredients listing tree moss but not oak moss.) I do not detect a huge amount of difference in terms of performance, as neither struck me as a powerhouse along the lines of, say, Polo ‘Green' or Kouros; longevity is average to long-lasting (about 8 hours), but sillage after the initial couple of hours becomes pretty polite, dense but quite close to the skin as far as I can tell. It is possible that my bottle just needs to oxidize a little, and I also notice that my nose quickly becomes accustomed to it, so olfactory fatigue may be in play...but overall, my impression is that sillage is moderate. I do actually really appreciate the degree to which, as it fades, Aramis is not dominated by an obviously synthetic base... I'll give it some time, but I think in its present form I am happy to spray liberally and allow a little to penetrate clothing as well (on a shirt warmed by body heat it is magic.) Despite its strong start, it reapplies decently later in the day.

Final conclusions:

A classical woody/herbal/leather for purists who are purists about more than just fragrance, Aramis eludes clichés more successfully than I would have guessed: smoothed out by aldehydes and skillfully balanced, it still holds a surprising amount of appeal. I don't find it smells dated for the practical purposes of daily wear, inasmuch as the context of its original popularity (a 1960's-70's, hairy-chested machismo) has largely vanished, with the 'cologne guys' of our present era having moved on to a totally different approach. Reformulation has likely smoothed and lightened its profile, but it is still a thoroughly functional and rewarding composition by contemporary standards that retains its vintage appeal. I think that Aramis deserves a great deal of respect as a survivor, but also as an acquired taste. Bernard Chant might have designed a masterpiece, but the challenge to appreciate something this far removed from the norms of our own moment is a creative pleasure in itself.