l’Artisan Parfumeur Mon Numéro 8, 2009

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(image Brandon Stanciell-themanwholovesflowers)

Perfumer Bertrand Duchaufour

I’m still sort of reeling from no 8. I tried it yesterday due to the generosity and perfume-camaraderie of Katie Puckrik, whom I bumped into while perfume shopping. No 8 starts with an iris root so carrot-seedy that the two notes actually seem distinct. They converge slowly and a throaty, rich iris-dominated floral picture comes into focus. Just into the heart, whammo! An exceedingly strong, exceedingly gorgeous soapy note grabs the wheel. (I kind of wondered about Katie’s “shower day plus one” comment at this point.) Soon, in a convincing juxtaposition, a musky, ripe, body scent starts creeping through the soap and brings back the root-like, almost mucky feel of the iris/carrot seed bit.

While not similar in scent, no 8 captures that clean over dirty intimacy that is the heart of Amouage Gold Man. Very crotch-driven.

I’ve only smelled it on a strip, but where most perfumes are a statement, or perhaps a simple question, no 8 is more like an argument, an assertion, and I’m completely persuaded. I’m certain I’d have the urge to nuzzle up to anybody wearing this.

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