Ménage a Trois: Doblis and Juozas

Happy Valentine’s Day! Welcome to Menage a Trois, what we hope will be a regular feature every other Wednesday, where we three take on at least two scents for review, according to our usual High Standards of Perfume Professionalism.

Hermes Doblis — woods, musk, moss, leather, jasmine, rose, $$$$$$$

• Patty — When I first sniffed this from a wee sample a most generous perfume enabling friend sent, I thought… what’s the big whoop here? I don’t get it, $500 plus for a bottle of this stuff? It’s really nice, but …. I ignored it for a few days, but had to try again. This isn’t a scent that is going to hit you over the head with “Hey, Look how great I am!” but it does sneak up on you. Perfectly balanced between floral notes and leather, this perfume whispers money, elegance, and taste. So why do I wear it, you ask? Because it fits me too –it is down to earth and not pretentious, it slides on without effort and is like my favorite velvet bathrobe, it takes no work to love it. Worth that much money? Not for everyone, no. For me? Yup. And I’ll weep inconsolably when the bottles run out.
• March — Hey, Patty — Does the $$$$$$$ sign up there mean they stuffed a lot of dollars down into the bottle? It smells like they did. I smelled this among 47 other things in Chicago. At the time, it didn’t make much of an impression. I am now sitting here with my nose affixed to my left wrist, a position I have been in long enough to develop a cramp. Doblis demands the question: does this thing smell so unbelievably beautiful only because I know how impossible it is to get? When I smelled it in Chicago it seemed more masculine to me, with more leather. This time I am getting mostly rose on an oakmoss/leather base — the drydown smells almost Guerlinade-ish to me. Do I see the word bathrobe up there? Man, the word I’d use is cloak. Or possibly crown. An impossibly sumptuous fragrance that says, you cannot afford me. I am racking my brain, and I can’t think of another leather this luxurious.
• Leopoldo — Erm, I’m not that great at reviewing scents like this, so I’m glad those luscious ladies went first. I read a little about it in order to get my head round the smell. Redesigned by Jean Claude Ellena it seems, though this isn’t much like what you expect from his usual schtick – it’s not transparent, minimalist, gauzy, sheer and that usual adjectival ticklist of stuff we associate with Patty’s lover-to-be. I’m guessing he’s been remarkably faithful to the original. What is marking it as different for me is the moss and the musk – there’s a thick (though not heavy) richness to this scent that reverberates with echoes of time past. It smells vintage. It’s also soapy and powdery in that exceptionally high class, ‘Yes I do have a waiting room, dressing room and ladies’ chamber thank you very much’ kind of way. I can see why some people would fall in love with it – nostalgia, sophistication and its rarity all make it desirable. It’s quite quite lovely without ever shouting about it.

Juozas Statkevicius — incense, jasmine, patchouli, coriander, vanilla, benzoin, musk, amber, cashmere wood, all languishing in Lithuania and unable to reach our far shores.

• March — well, I dropped my vial on the floor and it broke, so I’m even a sadder sack than Patty or Lee. But I got a good, hard sniff over several days, and I’m going to cite Marina’s Cheesesteak Syndrome — i.e., you hear about how wonderful something is, build up your expectations, and are invariably disappointed in the reality. I got the Cheesesteak Syndrome with Juozas. I love incense — love, love, love. I can’t think of a single incense-dominated fragrance I can’t wrap myself around, even the dank Messe de Minuit. (Myrrh is another story.) So, sure — I liked Juozas. It’s not as dense as, say, CdG Avignon, nor as cold as the Armani Prive. I’m not sure there’s another fragrance I’d come up with a direct comparison to. But … but … there’s a note in there at the beginning, a sweetness (maybe a combination of the jasmine and vanilla?) that drifts in and out, and I don’t like it. It seems out of place in the fragrance, and its random emergence bugs me more than I’d think it would.
• Leopoldo — Erm, March… Sad sack? Whachoo talkin’ ’bout, Willis? Just try to prove it… Anyway, I always imagine I love incense scents, and I own a few. But I hardly ever wear them. There’s also one I detest (and sandwiched between these two hottie perfumistas, I think I’m alone on this one) – the Messe that is a foul Minuit. The very thought of it brings on nausea. This of course meant that when I heard Etro’s baleful fumes mentioned alongside this new and rare exotic beast, I thought I’d have to steer well clear. I was wrong really – I get none of that damp menace from You-Owes-Us (see how phonologically helpful I am? Lord alone knows whether I’m right though), but it doesn’t excite me either. Some very clever person (I’m looking at you, Solander, you wonder!) in a blog I can’t read (language issues, rather than shock) made a pictorial link between the advertising imagery from this scent – glam blonde in 30s androgynous gear – and Weimar era Marlene Dietrich. And there is perhaps a thread of decadent sophistication running through this one. But there’s something sour in the first hour or so that’s a little offputting for me at least (like someone has melted a Haribo accord into it), and then it is a somewhat straightforward mix of incense, amber and musk. I’m a long way from king of amber and musk, so its appeal is a little wasted on me. I can imagine on the right person (my head says woman, but that’s marketing for you) it’d smell damn sexy. However, I am now craving some Haribo sours, even if I claimed not to like the accord. Make of that what you will. Oh, and Patty: March and I have just about left enough room for you. Try to say something snappy, would you?
• Patty — I sorta get the hype on this, but it’s probably not so much me. I really don’t like the initial blast, it is way too barber shoppy and medicinal, but as it dries down and the incense takes over that rough beginning, I wind up liking this very much. Worth the time tracking it down and getting it here? Not for me, but if it ever gets more accessible, I’d certainly like having a bottle of it around. Lord, you two sure can rattle on.