Some time ago I remember suggesting that Creed, if it really wanted to appeal to Generation X , should compose a perfume with a cognac beginning and a Macanudo cigar dry down. That would fetch buyers, or I didn’t know the Upper East Side and Fairfield County.
Turns out that such a thing already exists in Krigler’s Established Cognac, and it’s a departure from other boozy perfumes in being far less wine oriented than say, the Frapins, moreover the beginning of the Krigler is the real thing. A divine snootful of a really fine old cognac, and although I’m not a cognac drinker, I do love the smell. Krigler has that down cold, or warmed in a palm, swirling lazily in a crystal snifter.But what comes after the cognac has me really hooked. Yup, it’s tobacco. There is a long slightly ambery/tobacco-y/ accord that lasts and lasts on me. The time is perhaps not quite as long as the Roja Dove perfumes I recently wore, but still a good five hours, and the accord never goes stale, chemical smelling, or turn into nasty stogie smoke.
Oh, and one more thing – the transition from fine cognac to cigar is made very cleverly via a rich dried apple smell so unctuous that it was almost a taste.
Now, when mentioning such things as stogies, I know what I’m talking about, because I used to live over a cigar shop in Westport, Connecticut, while expecting my daughter. I was nearly asphyxiated on Friday afternoons when the market had gone up (and this was the turn of the century, so when didn’t it?) and therefore when I say that a tobacco scent in a fragrance smells like a wonderful cigar in a humidor, I know the distinction between the best and the worst. This one was one of the best from beginning to end, and well worth sampling, even if at second hand. Basically, if you like cognac, apples and cigars you will love this stuff. I did. (So, by the way, did my picky Hub who usually cares nothing for the fragrances I bring home.)
The perfume reminded me of Connecticut’s Fairfield County back in those boom years, the outrageous childrens’ parties we went to, the Christmas decorations a block long, the outsized houses, the fortunes made overnight, and the careers that ended nearly as quickly. If you left a job on Wall Street, an acquaintance told me, they handed you your personal effects in a crate on your way out of the exit interview – no returning to your desk ever again.
Everything was leveraged to the hilt including many of the largest and most opulent houses in Greenwich, or so I heard from a hedge funder friend. “They are,” he said, “some of the poorest people on earth, when you factor in their debts.”
It was a difficult notion to credit, what with all that consumption being so conspicuous. Established Cognac is like that, total luxe that can go up in smoke in a moment, and perhaps old stogies are best enjoyed by old fogeys in stone houses rather than fast fortune traders from McMansions – but boy, do those guys have it good up until the last puff!