Reviews by Bartlebooth

Delight in the iconic Armani bottle(rendered super cool by the inky glass), but don't expect much after the atomiser has been deployed.

It is in essence a more expensive and muscular version of Cavalli Black. They share the same monochromatic early and middle phases, and it's as bleak and featureless an olfactory landscape as you will find anywhere. It is dry, peppery, and slightly spicy, but it lacks nuance, creativity and is rather predictable.

The light at the end of a seemingly interminable tunnel is the endearing dry down. It may be familiar, but the sweet tonka and amber finish is surprisingly robust, and plays well against the pinched dryness of the cedar.

The final couple of hours almost compensate for the preceding dreariness, but not quite.

Aside from the sublime first twenty minutes of Paul Smith Story, this is a brand that has failed to inspire me with any of its offerings. There is often a high level of creativity and invention in their releases, but as yet I have detected little evidence of a fragrance which maintains a consistently high quality throughout.

The opening twenty minutes of Portrait for Men does little to dispel my pessimism. There is an interesting piquancy in the top notes, brisk and warming, but it is underscored by a powdery yet strangely cloying presence. This is akin to inhaling the contents of a very old make-up bag with the souls of redundant cosmetic items spiralling up into my brain.

The slightly peppery and oriental feel is maintained through the first few hours, but it is enhanced by a geranium note that is easy to detect and adds depth to a rather simple idea. Sadly, the continued presence of the greasepaint that I detected in the opening is continued well into the heart notes, and it mars what could have been an interesting idea.

It is a very simple finish, dry wood and musk, lightly spiced and this final phase has the advantage of considerable longevity. It is no surprise that once Portrait has dispensed with the antiquated cosmetics vibe, that it does blossom and display some real quality.

Many have alluded to its similarity to Gucci II, and this may very well be true, but when my nose needs to do battle with such a gloopy backdrop, it all seems rather academic. This is another swing and miss from Paul Smith. It is not without merit, and it is quite unusual, but the first few hours are wretched.

Antaeus is a slick Chanel vehicle that glides beyond me with little opportunity for examination or osmosis. It is undoubtedly a fragrance to be worn when you want the world to know just how hard you are trying.

The majority of the constituent parts are fine renditions – notably from patchouli, sandalwood and oakmoss. Sadly, the same cannot be said of the presence of beeswax, which pervades much of the lifespan. It is excessive, intrusive and induces the same olfactory fatigue as it does in the equally flawed Sartorial by Penhaligon's. The interminable sheen that it produces masks any of the subtleties that are contained within. Antaeus seemingly encourages admiration but not examination. You can drool on the glass case, but don't lift the lid up.

I am loath to assail the Antaeus reputation too vigorously, as it does succeed in projecting a potent formal efficacy. However, these days, it is usually an unthinking moment when my hand reaches for the bottle, and it has become a response to my most basic of fragrance needs. It was once better, and it remains competent, but it is some distance away from greatness.

As many others have already alluded to, the bottle is a delightfully bizarre creation, but very much in the spirit of Gaultier. In terms of the juice stored within, I am less enamored. To me it is begins in a fairly shrill manner, and has the spikiness normally found in a heap of civet. There is a note early on that I can only describes as sweet cardboard, and I have encountered a few times in modern fragrances,and never with a happy nose. It does soften and smooth into a dry woody/vetiver presence, but it is hardly a delight to spend one's time with. On the plus side, for those that love it, it lasts an eternity.

Surely there must be a limit to the number of combinations you can make from the titles of Vanille, Coco and Ambre? Vanille Coco makes decent use of CSP's frequently used coconut note, but the milky vanilla slightly overshadows it. In its favour it does project well and lasts an eternity.

There is certainly very little to choose between the Coco titled fragrances, but I probably prefer the slightly kooky Coco Figue.

On the day that I sampled Coco Extreme, I had Vanille Extreme on my other hand. It was an interesting contest between these two "Extremes", and I have to say that Vanille was the more entertaining and wearable. Coco certainly shares that ability to slake that thirst for freshness, but it just becomes a little too much after only a couple of hours. It is by no means cloying, but I clearly possess insufficient insulin to counteract the prodigious sweetness. Better fragrance options exist elsewhere in the considerable CSP hit parade.

If Eau Sauvage Parfum had been released without the original having existed, I probably would have welcomed it as being an item of retro chic. It is not an enhancement of the original in anyway, but it does share the same DNA. The opening is much more citrus-centric, and it is pleasing, evoking a certain antique vibe. There are no nuanced subtleties to enjoy, this is more a fragrance of three distinct phases. Citrus, woods, and then a decent vetiver finish. For me it doesn't quite work as a whole. It feels contrived and a little ordinary.

Not only should you stick to the original issue of Eau Sauvage, go vintage too

This is Sud Pacifique's least creative and effective use of vanilla so far. The low risk middle of the road approach is not something I am used to, and it all feels very low key and predictable. It is however, quite relentless in its ability to project and survive. It's a soft palatable fusion of sweet elements, but it becomes tedious all too quickly. This company offers far more entertaining options elsewhere in its catalogue.

This is a floral with significant presence. The tiare flower has such a bold personality, that it was probably wise to underscore it with softer players such as vanilla and coconut. However, given its wholly assertive personality and density, it will repel as many as it attracts. I have some admiration for Aloha Tiare, but I had a feeling that it would eventually overpower me

L'Eau Boisée is an improvement on the original Homme, with the cheap mojito vibe having had the alcohol removed. The result is a simple,light and usable fragrance that opens with a pleasing lime note and concludes with a balanced wood and vetiver drydown. None of the Guerlain Homme variants are world beaters, but L'Eau Boisée is top of its own little pile.

This is an ideal fragrance for those that want to experience the intoxicating ruggedness of patchouli without it projecting far beyond their own skin. Subsequent stages are mellower,and even feel a little sweeter, but it also diminishes to the point of invisibility inside about 3 hours. It's a valiant attempt from Monotheme, but it is handicapped by its impotence. Should I succumb to one of my infrequent cravings, I will take my patchouli from Etro .