Tabac Original by Mäurer & Wirtz (1959) was ignored by me for many years after I took one whiff of it in my early days, and dismissed it. I can't even remember what was it that turned me off it - but I vaguely recalled feeling it was too overbearing and just let it remain on the shelf at London Drugs while I explored and rather enjoyed other cheap thrills there.

Years have gone by, and on a long-in-the-making hunt for men's drugstore fragrances, spearheaded by the absence of Old Spice, I decided to get a bottle of this one before it might disappear. Except for that vague recollection of the scent from many years past, you could consider it a blind buy. There was no justification for this purchase except that it had the word "Tabac" in it, and I just invested over a week of my life researching and teaching the topic of tobacco fragrances to my students. I figured - if I own English Leather, I might as well get this one too.

So last week, when the above mentioned acquisition took place, I arrived home carrying as many as four masculine drugstore classics, including an 800 mL of 4711 Echt Kölnisch Wasser, and being $90 poorer (for all four scents combined - the latter was the most costly of the bunch, at $54; Tabac Original was another high-end purchase at $24.99; the others were Old Spice and Brut, each at just over or just below $10). But I will tell you more about those later this week, as I go through the very limited and neglected bunch of masculine scents in my fragrance collection.

Because the other scents were already familiar to me (and some, like Brut, I could even just open and smell without any trouble returning them if I change my mind) - I decided to take my chances and that very same afternoon, sprayed myself (first hesitantly, and then rather lavishly) with Tabac Original. In essence, I was simply wowed by its originality, that I was able to quickly forgive the complete absence of any representation of "Tabac". There is no tobacco to be sniffed out in this fragrance, not even after a week of wearing it pretty much daily.

The opening notes are a delicious concoction of spices that exhale confidence, polished masculinity, and are pleasant and remind yet also bold and unusual. The spices all have a woodsy-dry character, which are most befitting for a masculine fragrance: Allspice, black pepper and nutmeg are at the fore, chased after by dry ginger, and this trio comes across as warm-dry yet invigorating (no pastry association, surprisingly). There is also some lavender, hints of pine, petitgrain and other citrus notes which gives Tabac Original its freshly showered skin, soapy accent, which  provides a beautiful contrast and balance to the spices.



The lavender also adds an herbaceous, masculine floral nuance. The floral aspects are subtle, but can be also felt in the heart, where you might notice the clove-like presence of carnation, more soapy neroli, hints of geranium. But mostly what's present at the heart is an overdose of vetiver - or more likely, vetiverol - the vetiver alcohol that gives it the fresh and clean, tart-yet-sweet personality that is prevalent in Haitian vetivers more than any other variety. It's woody yet also gives off an almost juicy-citrusy feel, but also is very dry and elegant. This beautiful note is slightly balanced by hints of geranium, which also contributes to its masculine, dry-fresh and never overtly sweet character (even though if you'll notice - there is a lot going on here that could have made this sweet, if the perfumer only wanted it to go that direction). There is also a fair amount of alpha isomethyl ionone - which although does not occur in nature - it echoes the naturally occurring ionones in tobacco (though I am not sure I ever actually smell tobacco in there), and gives it some dry-violet, woody-floral nuances.

As we progress towards that base notes, the woodsy notes take over. And there isn't just vetiver - there is also cedar, and minute amounts of coumarin, which hint at the underlying flavour of a fine cured tobacco leaf, there is salty element too that is only vaguely reminiscent of oakmoss (there is non on the packaging, so perhaps they are now using evernyl, which is a very light and dry-smelling synthetic which vaguely resembles atranol-free oakmoss with non of its ambers-musky-mossy richness). But what really dominates the composition at the dry down is musk. And plenty of it. What we'd call "white musk", or the same musk combination you'd smell in musk oils that are sold in various shops offering fragrance oils (and often mistaking them for essential oils). Tabac Original thankfully develops this scent only many hours in, and until then it's mostly vetiver and spice and lavender goodness. It is one of the rare occasions when I care about the top and middle notes far more than the base notes - which I feel cheapen the otherwise superb composition.

If it weren't for Tabac Original humble origins on the Pharmacy's shelf, one would think it's the latest niche release from any of your favourite houses. Which just goes to show you how far do image and marketing go. It could have easily come from another respected historical Italian pharmacy-fragrance niche line, bottled in a simple apothecary bottle with the titled etched in the glass; Or carry a British heritage about the barber great-grandfather inventing it for some royalty or another; On the other hand - if Tom Ford were to market it, there would be some closeup of his unshaven cheeks with erotic  suggestions of thick white lather, perhaps licked off by a couple of famished-looking naked models (their gender is yet to be determined). Instead we have a very humble packaging that might have seemed cutting edge and compteporary in the early 1960s, but now looks arcane yet honest:
"TABAC ORIGINAL Eau de Toilette is a modern fragrance with intensive lasting strength. Masculine, expressive, individual. A fragrance that underlines your personality" (quote taken from the back of the box for this fragrance). 

Tabac Original also comes in a variety of shaving and grooming products such as a shaving soap and an after shave (on which I can not comment meaningfully, because try as I may, my beard never develops to more than a stubble, and the moustache I sport is limited to Movember's paper touché). But a glimpse into one of those vlogs makes shaving look like a rather sensual ritual that I will look forward to in my next incarnation, in which I hope to spend my entire days lathering soap and playing with the foam for hours on end.

Top Notes: Black Pepper, Allspice, Nutmet, Ginger, Citrus, Pine
Heart Notes: Lavender, Petitgrain, Neroli, Geranium, Vetiver
Base Notes: Vetiver, Sandalwood, Cedarwood, Musk 

Happy Father’s day to you all – fathers and grandfathers and everyone that celebrates with you. Check my newsletter for some fatherly thoughts for the day. For today on SmellyBlog, I decided to make a list of my favourite manly fragrances.

I haven’t tried nearly enough masculine fragrances, especially when comparing them to all the “feminine” scents I have tried. However I do have a few favourites and Father’s Day seems to be a good time to mention them – as well as a few significant males in my life.

1. Eau Sauvage
Always at the top of my masculine scents, Eau Sauvage is THE classic men’s fragrance there is. It was perfectly made by Edmond Roudniska and the combination of spacious hedionic jasmine with mossy base and herbaceous-citrus top notes is unbelievably gorgeous. I can’t think of any man in particular that I’ve known that worn it, but it always brings a sense of familiarity and recognition when I smell it.

2. Old Spice
An old-time classic and my grandfather used it regularly, but if you think it’s “too old” think twice; - my 21 year old brother adores it and wears it with passion in every form available – eau de toilette, after shave, body spray, deodorant, soap, you name it. It makes the whole house smell like Old Spice and when he goes through the whole ritual so to speak we are both sedated by clove and allspice.

3. Yerbamate
Rich, bold and green - this fougere has something quirky about it even though one of my customers claims it smells exactly like Canoe by Dana (that can be had for a fraction of the price). I have nothing to compare it to (Canoe pops up in drugstore only once in a Christmas-y blue moon) but I’m all the same curious.

4. Egoiste
With its soft, creamy sandalwood, Egoiste is the masculine answer to Bois des Iles and you really need not be selfish to enjoy it – I’m sure those around it will appreciate it too. Beware: Egoiste Platinum has nothing to do with it besides the name. Unfortuantley, it is not available in Canada – at least not on the West Coast.

5. Bel Ami
Bel Ami is dressed up entirely in leather like a hardcore fetishist, yet manages to conceal all that with its well-mannered attitude and elegance that has become the signature element in all the perfumes that come from the house of Hermes. I don’t smell it often on people around me, and I wish I did.

6. M7
Without being either particularly masculine or feminine, M7 is just different from what is out there among the thousands of department store fragrances. And that says something. It’s woody and sweet and although not exactly as oud-y as I would have liked it to be, it is a good way to get initiated into the secret society of oud admirers. If you’ll stay there long enough you may get to smell the real musty animalic wood. I think this would be my youngest brother’s next fragrance gift from me, since he’s always been fond of woods (Tam Dao and Dior Homme have become staples in his collection).

7. Cool Water
I’m just as surprised as you are to find this in my list of favourites or at all mentioned on SmellyBlog. . Just for reference: I used to compare Cool Water to a jacuzzi spray cleaner back in the day. Sometimes it’s all about the context, and even the most common, overly used and most synthetic cologne of them all can smell like a special perfume on the right person. I am fortunate to have had that experience and now I am quite fond of it – even though you won’t find me calling it a masterpiece anytime soon.

8. Bvlgari Black
Smoke, rubber and tea are hardly anything that one would imagine would go well together, let alone in a perfume. Bvlgari Black proves that darkness can be warm and cozy even with the strangest elements, and it has that addictive lapsang suchong tea note that echos the tea notes present in most (if not all) Bvlgari’s fragrances. It would make a perfect scent for my oldest brother, Yotam, who is particularly fond of the scents of gas stations and

9. Poivre Samarkand
Another favourite of my peppery brother Noam, it just smells incredible on him and in fact on all the people that I have come across smelling. It turns up more frequently that I would expect on the Latin dance floors which can be a relief in more ways than I can explain (compensation for lack of sense of rhythm is one instance).

10. Guerlain’s Vetiver
A very non-perfumey fragrance – Guerlain’s Vetiver is clean, fresh, citrusy and classy. It can be embraced by nature lovers and fragrance lovers alike, and can please both the country mouse and the city mouse – not to mention both sexes. If my second brother Yohai were to wear a fragrance again, I imagine it to be something like that.

11. Terre d’Hermes
A new discovery for me, and since vetiver is taking a very fond spot in my heart, I don’t feel ashamed of having two of this category here today. It is balanced, elegant, edgy, universal and still masculine enough to want to smell on a man.

12. L’Herbe Rouge
This is my quite personal interpretation of the scent of a man. Of course I have a history with it by now, and it’s too long to be told now. Ironically, it does make me travel in time just like the book that inspired it is all about. Now it belongs to a man of my past and a great love. And when I smell it that bittersweet longing for someone I lost creeps in and makes me wonder if I should ever let a man close to me wear my own fragrances. It is particularly dangerous to seal chapters of my life with my own perfumes.

Kouros is one of those powerhouse perfumes of the 80’s that seem to divide people and rarely gets a lukewarm reaction. The only exception is my brother: all he’s got to say about it was “it’s nice”. Perhaps the fact that he likes dosing in limitless amounts of Old Spice on a daily basis might explain a thing or two.

Kouros is unmistakably sexual and it’s impossible for me to see it in any other way. Without smelling literally of sex (as in “Magnificent Secretions”), it is dead-on rough, raw, dirty outdoor sex smell.

I first tried Kouros over a year ago and found it too potent for the time so I stayed away from it for a while. Today, coming back to it to continue my tribute week to YSL I immediately remembered what Katie of Scentzilla said about Poison and the word “humping” kept popping into my mind uncontrollably. Another thing that I couldn’t help thinking about was the orgy scene of Pan in Jitterbug Perfume. Kouros doesn’t just dry-hump your leg, it goes all the way even if uninvited, half animal and half human, it gets all messy and is not in the least apologetic about it either.

The notes are not easy to isolate in my mind and there is not much literature about it on the internet either. The most comprehensive list of notes can be found on Bois de Jasmin (and I don’t know what’s the source for it, neither can I pin point all of these notes either). So I’ll offer you as usual my attempt at describing the evolution of the fragrance as objectively as possible (if it ever is).

Kouros opens with an expansive array of notes that are at once herbaceous, spicy and sharp (and might be perceived as “fresh” by some). There is a sense of familiarity at first, resemblence to perhaps another masculine perfume (it could be either English Leather or Tabac Original – I could not find my references as some of my perfumes had to be temporarily stored away, so will have to check later) but at the same time it is nearly unbearably potent as well as awkward. Something about it makes me think of the original Chypre compositions, those made in the island of Cyprus from a mix of dried herbs and a paste of oakmoss and labdanum and resins. The notes are all very well blended as they have coupled with each other and have lost their distinct identities. I can sense the presence of familiar Mediterranean mountain herbs such as sage and perhaps bay leaf or rosemary, lavender and wormwood. The spices I cannot make out but one note is distinctively present – the intensely animalic fragrance of honey combs of dark, rich honey from wild thorny flowers with the scent of propolis still lingering in. It is almost sickeningly sweet and medicinal at the same time. Another note that stands out is that of labdanum, a resinous, ambery oleoresin from the rockrose bushes (also grown on the Mediterranean mountains and hillsides) and a pulsating undercurrent of costus, with its musky goat-like horns that is perhaps the reason why Pan jumps into the picture. As the perfume settles on the skin, the honey and labdanum get rounder and warmer, and the spices and herbs calm down and let go of their sharpness. Indolic notes take the stage with jasmine and civet being the most prominent and only hingts or rose-geranium that give it a more complex, perfumey bouquet. There is also a hint of dryness at the base, though still animalic, from what I believe to be a tobacco note. The drydown is mostly honeyed-ambery yet with the animalic aspect still in place and some dryness of oakmoss and tobacco. Overall, Kouros is sunny, heavy, spicy Chypre reminiscent of blood and sweat.

Top notes: Sage, Bay Leaf, Wormwood, Lavender
Heart notes: Honey, Jasmine, Rose Geranium
Base notes: Labdanum, Costus, Musk, Civet, Tobacco, Patchouli