Tabu by Dana

It brings me memories of my grandmother in the 80s. Today I tested a miniature of Obsession by Calvin Klein (from the 90s) and it transported me straight back to Tabú memories.

I bought it blind and hated it. It smells vintage, very spicy, and like Coca-Cola… yes, the opening seemed gaseous. It’s not for me. I thought I’d love it, but I didn’t. Upon testing it, I imagined an old lady waiting in a hospital lobby (no offense, that’s exactly what I felt). My mom liked it because she used it in the 70s.

I remember my first carnival wearing it at age 7: costumes, drums, mystery at a Taino exhibition, and of course, the scent. My mother, a free spirit, took me to places other kids wouldn’t see, and that’s how I discovered aromas I now love. Mahogany wood, incense, amber, spices, roses, jasmine… colonial Dominican zone scents I find in Tabú (even though it doesn’t list incense, I definitely smell it). It’s magical. I’m not a fan of retro scents like Youth Dew or Chanel No. 5, but Tabú by Dana is magic, gorgeous, and doesn’t smell musty. Surprisingly, young men like it, and if a girl wears it, she smells like a sexy lady who knows what she wants. It’s dual: feminine on her, masculine on him. It’s not clean or for spring; it’s sensual, hot, and potent. It smells like sexual witchcraft (reminds me of Dominican rituals with flowers and incense). I bought it blind and it’s the scent that fell in love with me 30 years ago on that carnival night. I recommend it to anyone looking for uncommon perfumes. It doesn’t smell like current trends or age. It’s delicate despite its potency; it doesn’t slap you in the face, it hugs you like a winter coat. But watch out: don’t use more than 3 sprays unless it’s snowing. I put one on my arm, and more than 24 hours after showering and disinfecting, it has barely softened.

REVIEW OF TABU BY DANA: The opening reminds me of Chanel No. 5, a well-dressed lady with pearl earrings. Within seconds, it transforms into an Obsession by Calvin Klein (90s vibe), and in the end, it’s a fragrance for women aged 28-30-40. The trail is spectacular, lasts a long time, and projects more than Obsession; one mist on the wrists and I can smell it all day; it’s extremely enveloping. It comes across as sweet, woody, and sensual as time passes. I bought it because my grandmother, a department store clerk, told me she sold a lot of it and that the most ‘libertine’ women used it to attract looks. She said it smelled sweet, sensual, and left an incredible trail wherever you went, making men turn around. When I finally found and bought it out of curiosity! Nowadays, there are modern perfumes like Scandal by Jean Paul Gaultier that cause the same effect, but Tabú, being less common, draws more attention and feels more serious. Both are heavy, so don’t abuse them. Good value for money; I paid about 20€ and it carries the weight of a 60€ perfume. I recommend it to mature, confident women because Tabú has character and turns heads. Use it for late afternoon and dates. It’s a special perfume.

I go to the perfume shop in my neighborhood every now and then to chat with the shopkeeper, try out old things, and bring home a bottle. There I tested this Tabú by Dana and loved it more than the others. I asked if they had more to buy, because they only had the test bottle with half the liquid left, and it didn’t seem feasible. So one good day I said: if you don’t have Tabú to sell, why do you want that solitary uncapped sample bottle? -‘Sell it to me, sell it to me!’ (as the song goes, hehe) And so I got it. Very happy to have rescued it, we left. Tabú is exquisite, sweet like a liqueur, and deliciously cozy. Its white flowers, dry creaminess, and warm, velvety texture like vintage makeup powders create an essence that intoxicates me. It might be the perfume I use most at home, though also for going out, but above all, it’s the one I use most to sleep. With it, I feel small, wrapped up like a child in the arms of a great woman, beautiful and voluptuous, with full lips and red nails; her sensual flesh lulls me to sleep, and I dream happier among her adorable, huge breasts.

I’ve always walked past vintage perfumes, but I bought this one for the myth surrounding its creation, thinking I’d just add it to my collection. What a mistake! It smells like a sensual, elegant, classic woman, as if discreet lust is oozing right through the pores. I can see myself wearing it at 25 on a winter night with black tights, a skirt, and a leather jacket. In this summer heat, I’d burn up, but on cool nights, it’s worth every penny.

At 87, this is the ancestor of almost all modern orientals. I suppose it’s been reformulated and some ingredients are synthetic, but it hasn’t lost its mystique. I tried it with fear because Opium, Obsession, and Poison used to overwhelm me, so I thought my nose wasn’t ready. The opening is sweet, reminiscent of 80s Opium, then the spices emerge: clove, sandalwood, and patchouli. It’s a high-quality oriental with great longevity; you just have to apply it moderately. An underrated classic with excellent value. Winter only due to its potency and warmth.

Finally, I managed to get a small bottle in EDP, and the truth is, I love it. It’s much sweeter and more wearable than I expected. I thought it would be a bomb like Kouros for women, but I’ve found a potent and rich perfume. Incredible for the price. Scent: 10, Longevity: 9, Sillage: 8, Value: 10, Versatility: 7, Overall: 8.

Last night I dreamed I was returning to Manderley… last night I dreamed I was returning to TABU. I’m reviewing the Dana Eau de Cologne again. Incredible fragrance! 105 ml for 14 euros. Sometimes I don’t understand this market. The sillage and longevity of the Eau de Cologne are comparable to Joop! Homme and far superior to Shalimar, Calvin Klein’s Obsession Woman, and even One Million or Invictus. And it’s a cologne! There’s no noticeable difference from the Eau de Parfum; the honey, patchouli, rose, jasmine, and orange blossom still come through. In this version, I don’t appreciate that woody cedar and benzoin note, which gives it a more dressing-room vibe and less oriental feel. I first applied it to my arm, but then I couldn’t resist spraying it on my neck and chest, and that’s when the intoxication hit. I feel it in warm, overwhelming bursts that bring me close to that cherished sensation, near a sensory faint. The French call ‘la petite mort’ the refractory period after orgasm. That moment of spiritual olfactory transport is my little death. It’s curious that I don’t dare to wear Kouros for its scandalous provocation, yet I find myself so comfortable with this feminine fragrance that feels as unisex as Le Male by Gaultier. Why not dedicate themselves solely to creating these beauties instead of weapons and wars? A human capable of creating sonatas, capitals, perfumes… SCENT: 9, SILLAGE: high, LONGEVITY: high, PERFORMANCE: high.

If anyone were to guide themselves by value, I wouldn’t buy Guerlain’s Samsara, Saint Laurent’s La Nuit de l’Homme, or Tom Ford’s Black Orchid again; buying Dana’s TABU would suffice. Note, I put value first. TABU reminds me a lot of Shalimar and its cousin, Calvin Klein’s Obsession Woman. They are perfumes of an intoxicating sweetness, extraordinarily easy to assimilate because their scent pleases everyone. It’s timeless and tremendously unisex, like the other two. Of course, they are unisex today, past the fougère and chypre fashion and fully in the era of aromatic oriental, spicy, and gourmand scents, both the severe ones and the candy-shop and praline types. Fortunately, the line between men’s and women’s fragrances is becoming a thing of the past, although tuberose, neroli, or plum florals remain that will take time to enter the unisex category. I think it’s about scents being liked without gender categorization, and Arabs have been crafting perfumes without distinction for centuries. In TABU, I primarily note the honey and meliferous patchouli, also rose and jasmine. Upon drying, very elegant woody notes appear, probably cedar and benzoin. Its longevity, sillage, and performance are very high, and its price is almost a gift. SCENT: 9, SILLAGE: 9, LONGEVITY: 9, PERFORMANCE: 10.

TABU is great; I can’t ask for more from a perfume; it’s impossible. In these times, it’s very bold to wear it because it has an old-school scent locked in a denser, more aromatic era than today. I notice it so sweetly addictive; it’s becoming the oriental I adore most. On my skin, it doesn’t go bad; it doesn’t pick up a dirty or acetone-like tone like others in this trend. I still don’t understand how an Eau de Parfum of 35 ml plus its body cream for 4.99 euros lasts so long and spreads its sillage so much… it lasts much longer than others and remains an intact scent for 12 hours… or are the big houses fooling us with their marketing? Because perfumes worth 20 times more, labeled as powerful, don’t project as strongly as this, for sure. I don’t know, but with TABU, I think many hyper-gimmicky, established houses are pulling our legs, but well. TABU is the absolute example of an absolutely accessible perfume; its price is more than ridiculous, lasting far longer than almost everything I own… if you don’t check it yourself. For the price mentioned, it’s worth going crazy over what it smells like and that it pleases, as long as poisonous perfumes please; otherwise, don’t even look. TABU is a Giant.

Tabu is an timeless jewel that has been undervalued and sold in drugstores within everyone’s reach. It came to me through an exchange, and although I had smelled it before, I didn’t pay attention: a grave mistake. It opens with a sweet, ripe, warm orange mixed with spices, nuts, clove, cinnamon, and honey. I barely notice flowers, except for ylang-ylang and jasmine. In the dry down, a heavy artillery: amber, benzoin, oakmoss, vetiver, labdanum, and patchouli, along with a hint of cola refreshment, all in perfect harmony. It’s oriental, gourmand, makes you want to taste it, and unisex for the brave. A rich, powerful, mature, sweet, dense, hot, and enveloping scent. Without reservations, sensual. It’s darker than Diva or Casmir and closer to Youth Dew, Obsession, Cinnabar, or Opium. Ideal for cold weather, with a wonderful trail and over 12 hours of longevity. The bottle is violin-shaped, with cognac-colored liquid that, when emptied, reveals the teacher and her student. One drawback: it stains white clothes orange and tans the skin; better to be cautious, use cotton on the skin, and avoid direct contact with clothes due to its oiliness. Created to smell like a prostitute, I’m amazed they made baby powder with its scent. They thought of an affordable oriental for drugstores, alongside Myrurgia and Vanderbilt. It gave husbands a thrill that women wore it; it took women out of their routine, and it served young women to provoke. It reached all ages, although some prejudices prevented it. It reminds me of my dear aunt, the unnameable one, the black sheep who ran away, never a wife or mother but a companion and lover. Unconventional, she lived in a caravan traveling the world. When her partner died, she came with us, living alone with her cats and memories. My cousins and I, skipping our father’s prohibition, would visit her; in exchange for affection, she’d give us snacks, tell us stories, let us try her saris, colorful dresses, heels, and we’d listen to Jazz, Edith Piaf, or Jacques Brel. In the air, Tabu. She lived by her rules: live and let live. Of great character, confident, independent, bohemian, nostalgic, hippy, and solitary, but never sad. A wise and powerful woman. She, her dresses, and her kittens emanated that scent. In my family, talking about her was a taboo. My favorite aunt, a woman who got ahead of her time and whose name was Teresa.

Thanks to your reviews, I rescued this perfume from my memory trunk. It’s hard to find in Barcelona since, although it’s Spanish, it’s now made in the US and sold at an absurdly low price. My mother used to wear it in a beautiful bottle, probably the EDP, but I only managed to get the EDT. Opening it is wonderful! Despite being a cologne, it has incredible longevity and sillage. What I love most is its evolution: distinct top, heart, and base notes, something rare in expensive perfumes that tend to be linear. It’s worth much more than it costs, like the good ones from Puig. It has a great resemblance to Opium, but I prefer Tabu. I already bought a 15ml spray advertised as EDT and will let you know how it goes.

I bought it along with the body lotion in a red box. It’s hot, enveloping, exquisite, durable, animalic, and magical. I never expected such a delicious result, and it hasn’t disappointed. It’s a unique, sensual, and eternal perfume, something Cleopatra herself could wear.

Talking about Tabu by Dana is a great way to break prejudices in the perfume world. First, it’s an eccentric, exquisite, and formidable fragrance, the predecessor to YSL’s Opium (the 1978 version, not the modern one). It’s one of the most aggressive and well-made orientals that exist. Its creator, Jean Carles, was explicitly asked to create a scent belonging to a prostitute (not an interpretation, that was the order), and it’s ironic that today it’s more elegant than almost anything launched in the last five years. Its price is ridiculously cheap, which hits hard those who believe if it smells expensive it must be good (and experience says the opposite). In itself: it starts with a spicy, spiced shock, a tattooed fog marked with ‘Oriental’, then clove, a floral-fruity background with resinous and bizarre touches. The base, the most scandalous part, is an animalistic discharge dominated by civet, sandalwood, benzoin, and the coarsest, herbal patchouli. It has depth: citrus sparkles, woody breezes, creamy floral sighs, and potent but fleeting hits of cypress. No one has tried it before; it was a hit in Spain and the US, it resembles Opium (1978), Youth-Dew, and even a bit of Cinnabar. Despite being a cologne, it lasts and projects a lot. With this scent and price, being stingy with a reapplication would be absurd. Tabu has traits of great classics and, being created by the same woman who made the first Miss Dior, its execution remains eloquent (the current formula tends more toward chypre).