Cabotine by Grès

It’s a bomb, but only for cold weather. In tropical heat, it weighs too much. It smells vintage and brings back childhood memories; my grandmother gave me three bottles, and smelling it transports me to that era when I looked regal and elegant. It’s not a blind buy for me; it reminds me of a well-dressed woman in the city wearing an expensive coat.

I bought it because I saw reviews from girls calling it a jewel of perfumery… Oh god, what a horrible thing. It smells like freshly cleaned restrooms, bar soap from the cheapest brand in the 90s, and 60-cent floor cleaners. Ugh, no. Just as horrible and penetrating as Mugler’s Angel.

I couldn’t stand it. I gifted it to an aunt who adores this type of perfume, and she loved it; on her, it smells great. However, I would be incapable of using it. It’s a very intense floral; the vetiver and algalia notes probably disgust me. I feel it’s dated and old-fashioned. It has a very potent trail and longevity. I don’t feel it’s for anyone.

It’s a great perfume, very economical for its quality. The trail and longevity are incredible; I tested it at a perfumery, and that single spray lasted from afternoon until the next morning. It’s a pity that on my skin it doesn’t feel rich; only the cassia stands out, reminding me of grass. I don’t know why it must be my skin’s pH, but it’s strange because on the blotter it was very floral and rich. But on my skin, I never felt the flowers. It’s a pity because you are a real deal perfume; your quality is magnificent, but don’t buy it blind because with so many notes, it surely becomes very versatile depending on the skin.

I loved it in the 90s and I love it now too. It’s potent but not invasive, cheerful and intense. It lasts a long time, and after 8 hours, there’s still a scent like freshly soaped. Isn’t it beautiful?

My go-to perfume, the one I never stop wearing. I’ve had it since I was a girl; it’s always been my signature scent, the smell that says ‘I’m here.’ For years, it was my only choice: going out, working, heat, cold, parties. My house always smelled like Cabotine, and I loved it. Then, for years, I lost sight of it due to tough times here in Argentina; it was hard to find because it had fallen out of favor, and some perfumeries said they’d thrown it away (I think it just didn’t get imported). Then, one day, it reappeared. I bought it with doubts, during the reformulation era, thinking they’d watered it down like so many others, turning it into a weak copy that wouldn’t last. Mistake. It was the same: potent, intense, fresh, woody, and floral. With a trail that turns heads. I felt it exactly as before, valued it even more, and started using it with more restraint. Little does it matter if it’s vintage, smells like an old lady, is outdated, or was worn by Cleopatra herself. I feel it like a green mantle of fresh flowers in summer, even if I wear it in winter. It lasts forever, and the evolution is woody and exquisite. Over time, I’ve tried new, more modern scents that I also like. But when I get tired of smelling like strawberry flan, tiramisu, or caramel dessert, I return to Cabotine. My little tip: use the EDT in summer. The EDP, only for winter and special occasions.

It’s a brutal floral; I love it, but I’m careful with the amount because if I overdo it, I get an unbearable headache. It feels fresh all day long, and that saturates me over time. To me, it smells super vintage, the opposite of modern fragrances that smell like caramel or burnt sugar. It has that fecal tone, which I assume comes from the aldehyde; I think that’s what makes me a bit dizzy, similar to Amarige but amplified here. Definitely not something to buy blindly.

It’s a potent, slightly timeless floral with an air of nobility. Ideal for spring and summer. It follows the path of Chanel No. 5, so if you like Chanel, you’ll surely like this one.

Honestly, I was swayed by reviews describing it as a perfume, and yes, it’s too invasive. I don’t like it even for ambienting the house; it’s too heavy for me. Luckily, I didn’t pay a fortune for it.

Are there men like me who feel wrapped up in this fragrance? I work in perfumery for years and discovered that there are extreme feminine intensities (like this one) that suit me well; I could wear it all day and be ecstatic, as if I were entering Disney for the first time, without remembering how it felt and wanting to enter again and again. There are many feminine fragrances that provoke that in me, and I’d wear them alone for the pleasure of smelling them. I understand that in times like the Victorian era, current olfactory schemes didn’t exist, because the first time I had an ecstasy and said ‘this is how I smell,’ ‘this is how my count smells,’ or ‘this is how my superior self smells,’ it was with an Organza alternative. I fell backward with the bottle in my hand onto my mom’s bed one day when I was home alone. And I traveled, simply traveled, and I think I never returned from there. I have a gateway to all kinds of perfume; in Argentina, female colleagues have labeled it ‘for grandmas’ or ‘for old biddies,’ pejoratively, girls totally resentful of life who don’t understand the art of perfume. Yes, I found my sanctuary in Paloma Picasso, in Ted Lapidus, in Cabotine, obviously, also in Chanel No. 5, and even in Mary Stuart; that is, I like ‘grandma’ perfumes (?) but they suit me, just like Amariage. And I’ll never forget how they felt on a black velvet coat, walking under the snow in Ushuaia, with a bottle of Black Vodka, of course. Are there men who get lost in these fragrances? Because I do.

Bought the EDT hoping for freshness and the longevity of an EDP. I absolutely love it; it has that 90s DNA but feels nothing like old school, it’s super youthful and everyone likes it. It’s balanced, not intrusive. On skin, it smells floral, aromatic, and green with a spicy touch; on clothes, the neroli really stands out. It gives a clean, fresh vibe, perfect for mornings, though it also works for a quiet spring or summer night. Longevity and sillage are good, though moderate, probably due to the heat over 30°C. I’ll keep using it to see if it improves in cooler weather, but when I run out, I’m definitely switching to the Grès EDP.

I own the Cabotine EDP and its stars are white flowers like carnation, jasmine, and neroli, paired with green leaves. It’s about 95% similar to Fred Hayman’s Touch, but here the plum is present all the time and smells stronger. Both last 8 hours, but Touch softens and becomes subtle, like a fine floral soap, while Cabotine reminds me of Amarige—it’s oily and linear with just a drop in projection. It’s nothing groundbreaking, but it has great longevity, quality, and price.

This is the culprit behind my change of heart. For years, it sat on the bathroom shelf at work, a perfume for anyone who wanted to use it. I loved the cap, but the scent turned me off. Stubborn as I was, I gave it chances, and slowly, I developed an adoration. I learned to appreciate a more complex perfume, far from mass-market hits. It sparked my curiosity for new horizons and made me aroma-flexible. Yes, it’s cheesy, but it demonstrates everything a perfume can do: nuances and changes. Grès perfumes are masters. They can teach you to never again say ‘ew’ or claim it smells old. At an unbeatable price, it’s a bonus. I apply my Cabotine and head straight out the door.

When I saw the price of Cabotine, someone told me: ‘It smells old’. I asked: ‘Old how old?’. They replied that it smelled like an older lady. I insisted if it was 30, 40, 50, or 60 years old. They looked at me like I was being annoying and said I didn’t know what old was. I told them that in the Amazon or Africa, a 20-year-old woman is already old, in Central Asia there are grandmas under 40, and in Mexico, people don’t consider themselves young past 30. Here in Spain, on the contrary, I know people who get offended if you call them ‘you’ even if they’re over 60. We ended up at a café talking about what old is. We concluded that a product can be outdated or timeless. Considering something ‘old’ is as subjective as considering someone ‘intelligent’. I don’t associate Cabotine with something old; I see it as timeless and attractive. On the contrary, I don’t consider young the people who wore it in the 90s. It’s attractive to see a woman in her forties, without botox, elegant, and smelling of Cabotine, Cabochard, Chanel Nº5, or Clinique. I recommend trying it many times; it’s worth it.

Cabotine EDT is a bouquet of jasmine with a green stem. I felt a bit like the classic Amarige in its grand floral opening. I was surprised that the scent jumps out without even opening the box. In the opening, there are carnations and a touch of honey; then the soapy and green notes come in, making it clean. At the end, all the notes blend into an indescribable, green, and animalic but unique aroma. It has similarities to Nivea and Dove cans. Excellent trail and projection; longevity of 10 to 12 hours. It’s versatile, works for day, evening, or night, but in summer it can be overwhelming; it stands out better in autumn or spring. Give it a chance, it has incredible quality and a low price.