The bottle of Bottega Veneta‘s Knot is drop dead gorgeous. Unfortunately, that’s the highest praise that I can accord to it, since the juice is, by all accounts, utterly yawn-inducing.
If one were to sum up Fourreau Noir in brief, it would be this: Lutens takes lavender and gives it his signature oriental treatment. It dispels lavender’s common associations with ‘grannies’ (hopefully that’s not what you lot think) and fusty scented drawers, and instead marries its herbal elements with a very edible tonka bean that is delectably creamy, and dare I say… fluffy. Throw some musk into the mix and we get a perfume that is thoroughly warming through and through. This lends it a quality that can best be described as the olfactory equivalent of a mink stole – not that I have worn one, nor ever intend to wear an animal – a furry coat for the coldest of winters.
But then midway through, the edibility gives way to the strangest olfactory flash mob – a turpentine note emerges, which I suspect to be the result of an interaction between the medicinal aspects of tonka bean and the herbal aspects of lavender, and the composition veers towards a woody dry down, which is pleasant enough. Once the surprise of the turpentine wears off, the mild shock on one’s face is replaced by the widest of grins that can only be an indication of the adrenaline stemming from a sensational roller coaster ride. I tend to have a hate-hate relationship with lavender, so it definitely is high praise when I say that this is my favourite lavender fragrance and that I actually love it. Sadly, as with most brands, prices have been inflating year-on-year, so all I can say is try it while you can still afford to.
~ The Smelly Vagabond
I’m not sure how I feel about Liquid Night by A Lab on Fire, a relatively new player on the niche perfume scene. On the one hand, the minty-fresh bergamot, lavender and clary sage opening brings to mind numerous other generic masculine fragrance clones, but on the other hand, there is something different about it, a certain minimalist aesthetic that sets it somewhat apart from its counterparts. It is as though the perfumer took the very same ingredients and ran them through a strainer and then a purifier, thus taking clean and spare to a completely different level. It’s the same, but different. You’re probably thinking that I’m a nut job at this point of time, and so do I, but I’m not sure how else to phrase what I’ve just said!