Bard

The term villain comes from villein, which refers to the peasantry. In Shakespeare's day, it was the equivalent of calling someone an unwashed boor. I find it oddly amusing that our language has twisted the word over the years to give it an altogether different connotation. Villain--the word--in our modern vernacular contains an element of diabolical charm and sophistication, and Villain, the fragrance is certainly a sophisticated medley of scents. This is a truly Victorian villain, blue-blooded and black-hearted. I'm rather glad all things considered that the fragrance went that route rather than 'midden heaps and pig wallows,' and so etymology can be excused. In the bottle: "Mmm... nice." None of the notes jump out at me. It smells, as others have said, very much like an over-the-counter men's cologne. It's striking, but conservative. Sometimes a little conservatism can be good. On my skin: I still can't pick out the individual notes. It smells lovely, and it feels quite formal to me. Having no ladies present to test the aforementioned "nose-to-crotch" factor, I shall have to save that experiment for another time. After a few hours: What remains is a dusty scent, reminiscent of gentlemen's talc. It's not at all unpleasant. It reminds me in many ways, of a late night coming home from the theatre. This scent isn't so formal that it would be out of place in a daily setting, but I'll be saving mine for opera night. Would anyone like to go to the opera? All around this is a phenomenal scent. Every man should own a bottle of this. Villain Haiku: Passing Baker Street-- He tips his hat in homage to his enemy. Your humble and obedient Renaissance Man, Bard

In the bottle: "What a remarkable rose!" As a general rule, I am not fond of floral scents except on the flowers themelves. Othello lured me in because I wanted to smell what a masculine rose fragrance was like. On first smell, the rose is very clear, but it isn't a sicky sweet rose. It's very mellow rose. In the bottle however, the musk is simply a whispered afterthought and the spices were just barely present. On my skin: The rose is still the dominant scent in this mixture. It's a little bit more musky, but the spices never really emerged for me. I like it, but I can't imagine wearing it very often. I might save it for midwinter, when it would make a particularly pleasant and shocking hint of warmer months to come. It would, in particular, make a lovely scent to wear on Valentine's Day. After a few hours: Othello disappears quickly for me. I just don't think it suits my body chemistry. I think another man might be able to pull it off brilliantly, but most of the guys I know would balk at wearing such a rosy scent. This would also be lovely on a woman however. Othello Haiku: Her last living breath: Still she trembles at the scent Of desert roses. Your humble and obedient Renaissance Man, Bard

In the bottle: This scent grabbed me right off the bat. It was the first of the thirteen scents I received that I truly adored. It's sweet, but not pampered. On my skin: I still love it. Out of the bottle, the sea scent, the leather and the rum separate and become more distinct, but at the same time they have enough cohesion that none of them become overpowering. It's fresh, and it makes me feel awake and alive. This could easily be made into a wonderful after shave, if one really wanted to dilute this with alcohol. After a few hours: The scent has backed off some but it remains very stable. It might not last an entire day, but it'd put in a good evening's work. I'd definitely call this a masculine scent. It's more on the casual side, but it could pass for a formal scent. Especially for a guy that's particularly rugged. The right woman could wear it, but it'd probably throw me at first. I find that prospect rather intriguing actually. Well done, Lady Elizabeth! Jolly Roger Haiku: "He smells of the sea," She thinks, in his arms. He thinks, "But why's the rum gone?" Your humble and obedient Renaissance Man, Bard

A friend of mine introduced me to BPAL when I mentioned that I was looking for a new fragrance. I had in mind something involving cedar and vanilla: a combination of scents I like to burn as incense. "I think BPAL has such a thing," she said, and she pulled up the search results for Tombstone. It immediately caught my attention. In the Bottle: My first reaction to this much-anticipated scent was, "Oh. No." In the bottle, it was muddy and dark. The cedar and balsam were overwhelming and the vanilla barely recognizable. I closed it, shook it vigorously, opened it and tried again. The vanilla emerged a little, but the over all effect was not the pleasant, warm cedar glow I was looking for. Disappointing. Out of the Bottle: After reading the forums, I decided that I shouldn't pass judgement on it until I tried it on my skin. I put a little swipe on either side of my neck this morning. Sure enough, it was still heavy and dark, but on my skin, I could smell the sassafras and the vanilla. After 20-30 minutes, it mellowed into the warm sort of cedar scent I'd anticipated, with a hint of vanilla adding a welcome sweetness. This I could handle. Catastrophe averted. Hours later: The vanilla becomes prominent, leaving just a hint of cedar. The sassafras adds that welcome root beer scent that others have mentioned. It's almost too sweet at this stage. Almost. It still falls within my comfort range. I can see why some of the ladies find this masculine but wearable, while others find it too masculine. The balance between the cedar and the vanilla makes a real difference. I can't say it's quite what I wanted or expected, but I'd have no objections to wearing this as a daily scent. It's a bit too casual for a formal situation, I think, but it's just about perfect for an average day. It's definitely worth a another try. Tombstone Haiku: Woodfires smell of home: Haunting his dreams with her soft Vanilla kisses. Your humble and obedient Renaissance Man, Bard