The 1970s must have smelled amazing. That's what I think whenever I sniff a fragrance from that decade. The air was thick with citrus and leather, musks, flowers, spices, dense woods, and decadent fruits. Guys walked around trailing heavily-spiced chypres behind them, and women were mossy gardens on legs. It all led up to . . . behold, . . . the "fragrance-free zone." Thanks to the seventies. Thanks, seventies!
With that said, Pierre Cardin Pour Monsieur is the perfect example of a polite, understated scent. I'm wearing it as I write this, and struck by how timeless the composition seems. It's also interesting how differently it smells on skin compared to paper. One is a warm, woody glow; The other drydown is cool, herbal, and spicy. The juice opens with a blended array of notes, including lavender, lemon, orange, pepper, and basil. They do pirouettes and switch roles - first the lemon and lavender explode forth, tinged by spiced orange zest, then the orange and basil roil forward, flanked by lemon and lavender.
Eventually it settles into a smooth basil-spiced orange, with reminiscences of lavender. After a few minutes a massive sandalwood note steps in, and the basil transitions into the greener spice of carnation. The sandalwood is creamy, dense, and moderately deepened by patchouli. Within an hour, the base reveals itself as every note melds into an inedible vanilla, smoked with benzoin and leather. The whole affair is a rapid transformation, but with every dynamic stage brilliantly executed. It leaves an impression of something warm, woody, and a little sweet.
A Pour Monsieur guy is a polite guy, a mature guy, very solid, self-assured, knows what he's wearing the day before, dependable, unshakable. He might not be very adventurous, but at least he knows what he wants. Hey, for a few bucks, you could be that guy too.