Reserve Collection: Bois Marocain

4 reseñas

Mostrando las más recientes primero.

• Scolderfdf

  June 29, 2021

  

  It’s a marvel of woods and spices, a gem from TF. In Mexico, it’s hard to snag because they no longer sell it, but I managed to get a partial bottle at a good price a couple of months ago. The first thing you smell is like sharpening those expensive wooden pencils from my childhood, and then it mixes with pepper, and afterward, a delicious patchouli with bergamot appears. It has great longevity and notable projection. I think it’s a delight, and it’s strange that there aren’t more reviews in Spanish. If you find it, especially at a good price, don’t hesitate to buy it. On eBay, it ranges from 200-250 dollars.

• Scolderfdf

  July 14, 2021

  

  It’s a delight of woods and spices, this genius from TF. It’s hard to find in Mexico since it’s discontinued, but I got a partial bottle at a decent price a few months ago. The first thing it reminds me of is the scent of sharpening expensive wooden pencils I used in my childhood; this aroma combined with the peppers, and after a while, I perceive a delicious patchouli mixed with bergamot. It has great longevity and notable projection. In my opinion, it’s a delight, and it’s rare that there aren’t more reviews in Spanish. If you find it, especially at a good price, don’t hesitate to get one. On eBay, it ranges from 200-250 USD.

• Espartaco

  December 5, 2022

  

  On my nose, it doesn’t smell much like Rush. Maybe that touch of green, creamy wood appears as it dries, but I wouldn’t link them. It’s like all lily-based perfumes sound the same to me. Bois Marocain is much rougher and more opaque than the beloved Gucci, which served an overdose of woods and aromatic notes on a tray of synthetic drugs and USB cables. And it’s curious because I had no idea what notes were in this Tom Ford when I poured two ml on myself, but while it lasted, I thought I smelled sandalwood… sandalwood, sandalwood, and more sandalwood. Plus, it’s not especially sexy or ambiguous like Rush, which takes it to the extreme; no, it’s a waxy sandalwood with an exhausting slowness, like bee wax, that actually started to bother me. My surprise was checking the pyramid of this supposed sandalwood soloist and seeing that it doesn’t even have it, yet there are more notes I couldn’t identify at all. Incense? Excuse me, I didn’t smell it even when I wanted to; it’s one of my favorite notes. Patchouli and cedar? Neither. At least not how I’m used to smelling them, and I have a decent olfactory memory because I’ve sampled here and there over the years, from ten-euro sprays to two-hundred-dollar ones, without closing my mind to anything, whether from an Adidas line or Amouage. I think that’s the best way to build a file in your head—not to get a professorship in perfumery, something I don’t aspire to because I’d lose my life doing it, but to know that depending on the blend, the trends, the perfumer, or the molecules, one thing can smell completely different from what you expected. For me, during the test, both on my hand to sniff and on my neck and on demand, Bois Marocain is a very woody sandalwood perfume combined with another raw, almost organic green facet coming from vetiver. And considering there’s no sandalwood but its illusion is there, it undoubtedly comes from the cross between cedar and that note I’ve never smelled before but is a conifer. To sum it up: a faded and anemic opening, like wood molecules more fake than a wooden dollar, eh, seasoned with that bubbly, sparkly tone of pink pepper. It lasts nothing, less until the current that will dominate is established, a single layer of fake sandalwood (cedar and woods to the death), heavy, matte, and pale, with a slightly exhausting touch. At one point in the transition, it gains certain aromatic, fleshy moisture thanks to the vetiver, which feels incredibly realistic. And so until the end. It could be a unisex worn by interesting women, but it leans masculine; I didn’t like it too much for finding it too rough, without light, but I think it’s worth noting that Ford, known worldwide for narcotic orientals, has on offer more robust, classic, and vigorous compositions with his arty little twist than the Tobacco Vanille and co., which makes me hate that sticky mess I can’t stand. Weak trail, medium longevity. The bottle is so cool, like the whole Private Blend line.

• Espartaco

  December 6, 2022

  

  On my nose, it doesn’t smell much like Rush. Maybe that touch of green, creamy wood appears as it dries, but I wouldn’t link them. It’s like all lily-based perfumes sound the same to me. Bois Marocain is much rougher and more opaque than the beloved Gucci, which served an overdose of woods and aromas on a tray of synthetic drugs and USB cables. And it’s curious because I had no idea what notes were in this Tom Ford when I poured two ml on myself, but while it lasted, I thought I smelled sandalwood… sandalwood, sandalwood, and more sandalwood. Plus, it’s not especially sexy or ambiguous like Rush, which takes it to the extreme; no, it’s a waxy sandalwood with an exhausting slowness, like bee wax, that actually started to bother me. My surprise was checking the pyramid of this supposed sandalwood soloist and seeing that it doesn’t even have it, yet there are more notes I couldn’t identify at all. Incense? Excuse me, I didn’t smell it even when I wanted to; it’s one of my favorite notes. Patchouli and cedar? Neither. At least not how I’m used to smelling them, and I have a decent olfactory memory because I’ve sampled here and there over the years, from ten-euro sprays to two-hundred-dollar ones, without closing my mind to anything, whether from an Adidas line or Amouage. I think that’s the best way to build a file in your head—not to get a professorship in perfumery, something I don’t aspire to because I’d lose my life doing it, but to know that depending on the blend, the trends, the perfumer, or the molecules, one thing can smell completely different from what you expected. For me, during the test, both on my hand to sniff and on my neck and on demand, Bois Marocain is a very woody sandalwood perfume combined with another raw, almost organic green facet coming from vetiver. And considering there’s no sandalwood but its illusion is there, it undoubtedly comes from the cross between cedar and that note I’ve never smelled before but is a conifer. To sum it up: a faded and anemic opening, like wood molecules more fake than a wooden dollar, eh, seasoned with that bubbly, sparkly tone of pink pepper. It lasts nothing, less until the current that will dominate is established, a single layer of fake sandalwood (cedar and woods to the death), heavy, matte, and pale, with a slightly exhausting touch. At one point in the transition, it gains certain aromatic, fleshy moisture thanks to the vetiver, which feels incredibly realistic. And so until the end. It could be a unisex worn by interesting women, but it leans masculine; I didn’t like it too much for finding it too rough, without light, but I think it’s worth noting that Ford, known worldwide for narcotic orientals, has on offer more robust, classic, and vigorous compositions with his arty little twist than the Tobacco Vanille and co., which makes me hate that sticky mess I can’t stand. Weak trail, medium longevity. The bottle is so cool, like the whole Private Blend line.