Jules

16 reseñas

Mostrando las más recientes primero.

• georgequeue

  September 12, 2014

  

  I own two minis of Jules that I picked up on eBay last year. The first time I tried it, I was instantly hooked despite that strong algalia note that hits you hard around the 30-minute mark. Between the initial blast and the dry-down, it smells like everything typical of the 80s: lavender, basil, sandalwood, aldehydes, black pepper, and of course, leather; finishing with a touch of mint. I bought the second mini just to own it. Dior’s Jules is exactly what its ingredients promise: a ‘dirty’ fragrance. In the heart phase, that animal note is quite fecal and can give many the impression of poor hygiene, but eventually, it cleans up with the mint. On my skin, it lasts about 4 or 5 hours, and the projection isn’t the monster beast others claim (maybe because it’s the original 80s formula that has faded, or simply it doesn’t work for me). It’s interesting and peculiar, with very pleasant moments, but it feels a bit dated and not very versatile; the current version might serve a broader niche better. In my opinion, the price of this ‘lost gem’ is excessive to buy a full bottle, and I even less recommend buying it blind. Its quality is evident, but I don’t think it’s a must-have. UPDATE OCTOBER 21, 2014: I wore it again yesterday and liked the dry-down; very 80s, the mix of soap, herbs, algalia, and mint is comforting and not offensive; if it weren’t so expensive, I’d buy a full bottle.

• georgequeue

  September 17, 2014

  

  I own two minis of this fragrance that I picked up on eBay last year. The first time I tried it, I was instantly hooked despite that strong algalia note that hits you hard around the 30-minute mark. Between the initial blast and the dry-down, it smells like everything typical of the 80s: lavender, basil, sandalwood, aldehydes, black pepper, and of course, leather; finishing with a touch of mint. I bought the second mini just to own it. Dior’s Jules is exactly what its ingredients promise: a ‘dirty’ fragrance. In the heart phase, that animal note is quite fecal and can give many the impression of poor hygiene, but eventually, it cleans up with the mint. On my skin, it lasts about 4 or 5 hours, and the projection isn’t the monster beast others claim (maybe because it’s the original 80s formula that has faded, or simply it doesn’t work for me). It’s interesting and peculiar, with very pleasant moments, but it feels a bit dated and not very versatile; the current version might serve a broader niche better. In my opinion, the price of this ‘lost gem’ is excessive to buy a full bottle, and I even less recommend buying it blind. Its quality is evident, but I don’t think it’s a must-have. UPDATE OCTOBER 21, 2014: I wore it again yesterday and liked the dry-down; very 80s, the mix of soap, herbs, algalia, and mint is comforting and not offensive; if it weren’t so expensive, I’d buy a full bottle.

• FanDeDuneVintage

  December 22, 2016

  

  It’s a whole rarity, one of those not available in some latitudes, like in Latin America, perhaps due to low rotation and little preference, given the wide range we have. The scarcity of reviews proves it. I heard about Jules about 6 years ago browsing the Christian Dior website, presented as a relaunched classic, with remodeled presentation and, surely, a softer formulation. Since then, I’ve felt fascinated to know it, like when you desire something that isn’t yours, and it doesn’t matter if it might please… You must have it at all costs! A few months later, my brother acquired the vintage version. From day 1 to day 15 of waiting, we were curious. The big day arrived: he opened the packaging, took out the miniature, removed the cap, tested it on skin, and… We felt a typical 80s masculine aroma: aged, with animalic character, spicy, murky, slightly nauseating, composed of recurring notes from that era; yes, but not as intense as we imagined. The first impression was to say ‘Not bad, it resembles X or Y’. Sometimes you expect the Holy Grail; often the unknown loses charm once known, the veil falls, the myth is toppled, and we land on the truth. It wasn’t a great surprise, nor a disappointment. Did I expect more? Honestly, yes. In conclusion, Jules by Christian Dior is far from being the house’s greatest creation, nor is it a mandatory collectible. But it’s a classic that must be known, that occupies a place in perfumery, and although it’s rare, it’s not crazy to give yourself the opportunity. It may sound transgressive, but Dior knows why it does what it does. Scent: 7.5

• MarcusRS

  January 8, 2019

  

  In 1979, one of the first known stores in Mexico, ‘Suburbia’, opened. In 1981, Jules arrived in Mexico, and I got to know it, since I used my father’s Signoricci and perfumes caught my attention. I clearly remember I didn’t like it. Jules in its original formula can be too much for a young nose, like mine was then. 38 years later, a friend gifted me a generous sample of this Jules in its first version. From my experience and personal taste, I think Jules has resonances with great perfumes that lived glory days, like Halston Z-14, Aramis Devin, and even the late Vendetta by Valentino, and many others. Jules belongs to an era of deep herbals, full of character and masculine personality. An approach that seems extinct today. Undoubtedly a mistake of modernity and aesthetic rethinking in favor of consumption. Jules is a Christian Dior as it was then, with sumptuous and elegant fragrances, but with an irreverent touch of greasy and dark leather rolled in almost medicinal saturation of herbs and forest ferns… The best must be waited for. Once the middle and base notes are expressed, the wonderful art of Jules emerges. Three hours have passed before perceiving the magic of this masterpiece. The leather has descended and now rests in a floral calm, where a sweet and coarse oakmoss shows its tonal fan with mirages of dark mint and herbs, a Wagnerian symphony. It’s a fact, I want it. But being realistic, we’ll settle for the current version, something that doesn’t disgust me, except when things are poorly re-adapted. Still, I have faith that something of the spirit of this beauty is preserved in the 2016 formula. Needless to say… If you find it, don’t hesitate.

• jerry drake

  February 6, 2019

  

  There are fragrances that today seem relics of another era, from the first sniff to the last resonance, coming from a world that only exists in memories. This proposal reaches astronomical prices, like many from those years. Jules has strength and intensity that can disturb a nose accustomed to fragrances post-2000. The difference in density, texture, and pure aroma compared to the current version is abyssal, no matter if you like it or not, it’s like shooting with a cannon against pistols. You have to travel an olfactory path to understand and appreciate; otherwise, you won’t like it at all. It seems like a floral fragrance with solid construction that transforms into a seductive spicy-animalic scent after a few moments, an aroma of a gentleman from another time, powerful and well-groomed. Many notes remain strong and vigorous for a long time. I don’t know if it’s my impression, at some point it reminds me of the good old Kouros and my eyes light up… A consistent, almost ferocious proposal. I’m testing the vintage after shave. The EDT must be a real bomb.

• arp

  April 9, 2019

  

  I understand bofifa’s comment about the disappearance of fragrances. I think it’s better that new generations know ‘what remains’ of the great classics than that they never get to know them. Regarding reformulations or that ‘it’s a shadow of what it was’, I don’t think it’s a mistake, since whoever says it knew it in vintage version, like Guerlain’s vetiver from 2000, which now ‘isn’t even the shadow of what it was’. It makes me think of an old boxer who can’t give anymore and only fights for some weight to survive. In this case, I support that new generations try them to know how grand it was, but in my opinion, for ‘what remains’ or what is currently produced, I think it’s better they had stopped producing it, so it would have had a just death or a dignified retirement. As for any drink or food that tastes the same as when it was launched, it could be Coca-Cola; I couldn’t taste it when it came out, it’s over 100 years old, but I, with over 30 years tasting it, say it still tastes the same. Who knows what flavor it would have had 50, 70, or 100 years ago. Cheers!

• Bofifa

  April 30, 2019

  

  A few days ago I felt very sad reading that Van Cleef & Arpels discontinued Pour Homme and Tsar. Two of my favorites, eliminated at once by a social evolution that forgives nothing. They were in top shape, with care and respect. If they disappeared, it’s because the numbers didn’t add up. They no longer want to smell like this or understand these aromas. Still, it seems questionable to let go of legendary creations, myths of perfumery. It’s their decision. I’d like to take the blame. Fragrance enthusiasts sometimes look for three legs in a stool and criticize that ‘such a perfume is a shadow of what it was’. I’ve done it and I think it’s a mistake. We discourage interested parties who will never get to smell it. A niche fragrance needs to be discovered. We close doors and the inevitable happens: they stop making it. What if they don’t smell the same? Of course, especially in 40-year-old perfumes. It’s impossible for them to be the same. Comparing vintage with modern is doubtful; the vintage has changed, it has aged. Sometimes those differences are just the passage of time. I don’t know how many times I’ve compared perfume bottle to bottle that are practically the same, with no distinct experience. But you read the comments: ‘reformulations’, ‘shadow of what it was’. And what do you know? I’d like to appreciate that these classics fight to exist and try to adapt to changing tastes, as happens with cinema, food, and fashion. Why different in perfumery? Do you know any famous drink that tastes the same as when it was launched? Encourage those interested in classics to ignore criticism about reformulations and experiment. They will probably find a great fragrance. That said, let’s talk about Jules, a paradigmatic case. It’s a legend known upon entering the classics. Launched in the early 80s with beautiful advertising aesthetics, perhaps the best in Dior’s men’s line. Dream packaging, a box so beautiful it hurts. I doubt the first version survived the 80s; it’s hard to find, very expensive, and since it was mostly splash, there are doubts about conservation. In 2008 Dior relaunched it and it’s still produced, hard to find and rarely for less than 100 euros. My first experience was in a French village in a Dior store with a dedicated shelf, at 90 euros. I tested it, liked it, thought it was expensive, didn’t buy it, and I’ve regretted it since. Recently I solved it, I have the version but haven’t opened it. My friend Jerry Drake passed me a sample of the original. Jules is an extreme aromatic fern. The opening is full of animal and earthy notes, like an Aramis of life, with that touch of perfumed dirt that was stylish, which you love or hate. It evolves towards floral and herbal, a harmonic, fine, old-school path, pure barber shop, smelling of a man without reservations who finds elegance in nature. Sharp in its cleanliness, without abandoning heavy and dirty notes, powerful, radiant, and woody. I don’t find it similar to Kouros, which is born and dies in itself, autonomous. But it is similar to the pléiade of 80s ferns (its author is also from Paco Rabanne Pour Homme), and that’s why it struggled to stand out. There’s nothing in Jules that isn’t found in others; here the quality is excellent and it has the romance of its scent and images. Chanel or Dior may be criticized for what they sell, but no one takes away their merit for maintaining their classics with dignity. Prestige isn’t paid with money. Aramis, Giorgio de Beverly Hills, Agua Brava, Santos, Azzaro, Quorum, Drakkar Noir, Cacharel… have become objects of mockery, but perfumery will be sad when they disappear.

• Espartaco

  June 27, 2019

  

  All fashion houses go through strange or creatively dry phases. Dior at that time, with Marc Bohan, had irrelevant fashion. The years of Miss Dior and Eau Sauvage had already passed. France was full of new brands competing for young and reckless users. It’s no wonder Jules is little known: a vague concept and unappealing. The communication was a disaster. Dior was never as modern as Saint Laurent. René Gruau’s drawings, perfect for classics, didn’t paint anything here representing that man from behind with the name embroidered on a bomber jacket, à la Tony Manero… it looks forced, trying to scrape 80s street fashion. The ad looks like a cutout from Cosmopolitan or Playboy and doesn’t make you think of Dior. I don’t know if that disastrous communication had anything to do with the little success, since in French it means the ideal person for love and adventure, but they took a huge hit. Years later came Poison and Fahrenheit. Is Jules a good perfume? Undoubtedly, a very rich one. It moves gracefully between dry leather from previous years and aromatic fern. It’s a unique hybrid. The first impact is a punch of fecal and dry nature. I don’t know why civet isn’t listed, but it’s there: beautiful and dirty, an algalia with genital memories that’s a vulgarity, but well beaten with acidic and dry moss. Few current perfumes have algalia; when I detect it, it brightens my day. The opening is an ultra-dry combo of aquatic and crushed herbs, acidic, with a tender nuance of civet. As it dries, it loses the tanned animal leather and becomes an herbal leather with living wood, acidic, reaching pleasant notes without losing the dry flavor. Finally, the leather softens and becomes woody, a mix of aromatic fern with tinkling spicy floral and a touch of balsamic green and mentholated sweetness of fir. In no phase did I feel comfortable with the original version: the first is too sharp and turpentine-like; the second too aromatic and oily. But it proves to be well-made, overshadowed by semi-fern similars that captured new generations wanting to be ultra-macho. Maybe it didn’t deserve that ‘Cheli is the cool guy’ campaign; it wasn’t more delicate than a classic fougere, it’s a juice for egg-sure macho men, but it has an artistic aura that flirts with the dark. I don’t know which archetype would have sold better, maybe a cultured and depraved Count Dracula. Whatever it is, it deserves to be more known. Any fan of pre-Kouros masculine formulas will want it. PS: I don’t know the current version, distribution is almost residual. PS II: Every time I test it, Van Cleef Pour Homme won’t leave my head. They aren’t the same; they dry differently, Dior’s is more talkative. Both share a dark violence that sets them apart from relaxed or flashy aromatics. They belong to an ancient and dangerous lineage. PS III: It’s said it doesn’t have the throne to be a cult discontinued scent because it resembles so many. Assuming it’s not Kouros or Antaeus, it seems very well made, though as it dries it becomes somewhat banal, but not bad for that.

• Espartaco

  June 27, 2019

  

  All fashion houses go through rare phases, transition periods, or creative droughts. Dior was in that spot back then. The creative director was Marc Bohan, who led the house the longest, but with a low media profile. His fashion was irrelevant; Dior remained Dior, a safe name, but the years of Miss Dior and Eau Sauvage were already behind them. Plus, France was full of new brands competing for young, reckless customers. It’s no surprise that Jules is little-known: it has a diffuse and unattractive concept. The communication was a disaster. Dior was never as modern and street-smart as Saint Laurent. René Gruau’s drawings, perfect for classics in amphorae, didn’t paint anything representative here of that man from behind with the name embroidered on a bomber jacket, à la Tony Manero, promising everything until you’re in it… it felt out of place, fake, trying to scrape 80s street trends. The ad looked like a cutout from Cosmopolitan or Playboy and didn’t make you think of Dior. I don’t know if this poor communication had anything to do with Jules’ lack of success (in French, it means that ideal person for love and play, a perfect other half), but they took a huge hit, though they didn’t cry too much, as within a few years they had the hits of Poison and Fahrenheit. Anyway, is Jules a good perfume? Undoubtedly, yes. A very rich one. Jules moves gracefully between dry leather reminiscent of a saddle and aromatic fern. It’s a unique hybrid in every phase. The first impact is a punch of dry, fecal nature. I don’t know why civet isn’t listed in the notes, but it’s there: it’s not castoreum or dirty musk, it’s a precious and dirty civet, an algalia with memories of genitalia that is a grossness, but well-beaten with moss, acidic, dry, and green, as if ground in a mortar. Few current perfumes have algalia, so when I detect it, it cheers up my day. What Jules offers at the start is an ultra-dry combo of crushed herbs, acidic, with a tender nuance of the civet, soft and wonderfully vulgar. As it dries, it loses the tone of tanned leather and animal; it becomes herbal leather with a taste of living wood, acidic, with new aromatic notes that give it kindness without losing the flavor of something dry. Finally, the leather softens until it becomes bosky, a mix of fern with tinkling floral spices and a touch of balsamic greenness, with a mentholated sweetness that only the fir tree gives. In no phase have I felt comfortable with the original version: the first is too sharp, with turpentine-like acidity; the second too aromatic and oily. But in either, it proves to be well-made, overshadowed by similar semi-green ferns that captured new generations wanting to be ultra-macho. Maybe Jules didn’t deserve that ‘Cheli is the cool guy’ campaign; it wasn’t more delicate than a coumarin fougere, we’re talking about juice for big-balled machos, but it has an artistic aura that coquets with the dark. I don’t know what archetype would have suited it better, maybe a cultured and depraved Count Dracula strolling through London. Whatever it is, Jules deserves to be more known. Any fan of pre-cologne masculine formulas will want a bottle, if they have the luck or unluck (it’s expensive) to try it. PS. I don’t know the current version, which in Dior has almost residual distribution. PS II. Every time I try it, Pour Homme by Van Cleef won’t leave my head. They aren’t the same, they have different dry-downs (Dior’s is more chatty), but they share that dark violence that sets them apart from other more relaxed aromatics. Both belong to an older, more dangerous lineage. PS III. It’s said that Jules doesn’t have the right to be a cult delisted fragrance because of its resemblance to so many of its time. Assuming it’s not a Kouros or an Antaeus, I think it’s a very well-made perfume that becomes somewhat banal when it dries, but not bad for that reason.

• Selene

  March 2, 2022

  

  Jules is the best of the great classics in one bottle, with fine components where sophistication is infused into its essence. Its aromatic body sparkles with chameleon-like sensations. Jean Martel, creator of the iconic Paco Rabanne Pour Homme, returns to create an herbal fragrance for Dior. With the task of shining without getting trapped among the giants of the late 70s influenced by his Rabanne, Jules (lover, boyfriend) represents the well-groomed, perfumed, and well-dressed man you’re looking for to go out. Its original formula starts with spices and herbs of notable quality, not sharp but fresh and intoxicating, with lavender, laurel, and cumin. It’s that flirtation between freshness and dense nuances, a great merit. Then come roses with cardamom and fir. The herbs and spices aren’t sharp like in other classics. Its herbal, aquatic, animalic, and woody facets are well intertwined; it’s a masterpiece. As it dries down, an animalic leather appears with spicy rose touches. It’s a dream, but for many it has a weakness: it loses its iconic status against Eau Sauvage or Fahrenheit because it doesn’t project as much. It’s little known. They say it doesn’t have atomic projection, it’s moderate, but that favors its quality and longevity. It approaches Van Cleef Pour Homme, though with less clove and wood. It shares facets with Kourous but less pronounced. For me, it’s a mix between Van Cleef and classic Aramis. When I bought the miniature, I also grabbed an old Cabochard extract, and they go amazingly well together. It’s worth a miniature, though the prices are extremely high. I haven’t tested the current version, but one must be cautious with these reformulated classics.

• DCG69

  October 18, 2022

  

  My second favorite fragrance of all time, right after Balenciaga Pour Homme. An exquisite 80s classic impossible to forget, regardless of the passage of time or the fact that today it might smell like a nuclear bomb of mothballs to sensitive noses. As Tango says: ‘What’s your past got to do with it?’, I still love you like the first day I smelled you. In fact, when I spray it, I feel like I’m reclaiming those years when I used to suck my curly bangs. I know it came out in 1980 when I was a kid listening to the Village People, but I discovered it in 1988, when Milli Vanilli were still fooling us. If you happen to find this high-end scent, give yourself courage and don’t be intimidated. Douse yourself halfway and go live your life. If any bold millennial looks at you sideways, call me and I’ll go there to put them in their place. Seriously, what a piece of perfume? Dior delisted it to release the famous Fahrenheit, another great classic, but Jules doesn’t quite compete to reach the very top tiers.

• DCG69

  November 7, 2022

  

  My second favorite fragrance of all time, after Balenciaga Pour Homme. An 80s delicacy impossible to forget, even if today it seems like a nuclear bomb with mothballs for the fragile noses of modern times. As Tango says: ‘What’s your past to me?’ I still love you as much as the first day I smelled you. Even more, when I spray it, I feel like I’m recovering those years when I used to curl my bangs with my mouth. I know it came out in 1980, when I was a kid listening to ‘Village People’, but I got to know it in 1988, when ‘Milli Vanilli’ were still fooling us. If you can get this high-end perfume, have the courage, don’t be intimidated. Pour half a bottle and go out into the world. If any bold millennial gives you a dirty look, call me and I’ll go there to put them in their place. Seriously, what a piece of perfume? Dior discontinued it to release Fahrenheit, another great classic I’ll review later. But clearly, Jules doesn’t compete to reach the level of the greatest masterpieces.

• giorgiovlach

  June 8, 2024

  

  Dior’s Jules is a sophisticated classic that has left its mark on men’s perfumery since 1980. It’s a celebration of elegant masculinity, perfect for those who appreciate traditional scents with a modern twist. From the start, it grabs attention with basil, lavender, and bergamot, creating a fresh opening. This is complemented by a heart of geranium, carnation, and oakmoss, adding a warm, floral, and earthy dimension. The base notes define its robust character: leather, tobacco, vetiver, and sandalwood provide a deep foundation, while musk and cedar add sophistication. It’s a statement of style and presence, ideal for someone who isn’t afraid to stand out. Whether for a formal occasion or daily wear, it’s a perfect choice for those who value quality. Every time I wear it, I feel wrapped in an aura of elegance and power. It receives compliments and has stood the test of time, proving its relevance. For anyone looking for something masculine and refined, Jules is unbeatable.

• giorgiovlach

  June 24, 2024

  

  Jules by Dior is a classic and sophisticated fragrance that left a lasting mark on men’s perfumery since 1980. It’s a celebration of elegant masculinity, perfect for those who appreciate tradition with a modern touch. It opens with fresh and aromatic basil, lavender, and bergamot. The heart of geranium, carnation, and oakmoss adds warmth and earthiness. The base notes of leather, tobacco, vetiver, and sandalwood define its robust character, while musk and cedar lend sophistication. It’s a style statement ideal for those who value classic quality. Every time I wear it, I feel an aura of elegance and power. It gets compliments and has stood the test of time. For anyone looking for something masculine and refined, it’s an unbeatable choice.

• enlg

  April 6, 2025

  

  People talk too much… It’s a classic 80s fragrance, very similar to Van Gils, Boucheron Pour Homme, One Man Show by J. Bogart, and even the little-known Basile Uomo. It’s an excellent classic that will never leave anyone indifferent, except for… well, we all know who!

• enlg

  April 10, 2025

  

  People like to talk too much… It’s a classic 80s fragrance. Very similar to Van Gils, Boucheron Pour Homme, One Man Show by J. Bogart, and even the little-known Basile Uomo. It’s an excellent classic fragrance that will never leave anyone indifferent, except for the… well, we all know who they are.