Cow is Feisthauer in a bucolic mood, a likable entry in the brand catalog that smells more approachable and comfortable than anything else in Victor Wong's stable. Juicy green apple top note. Smooth and unsweetened vanilla/milk accord. A rustle of sage. A whisper of green grass. Eventually, a mellow floral tone, soft and well-balanced against the resilient milky notes, which are so anodyne and soothing that I think I could wear this to bed. True to its name, Cow conjures imagery of rolling green fields speckled with bovines, some lounging in tall grasses, eternally chewing and chewing. Of course, anyone with any experience in agriculture knows that the true smell of cows is cow shit; I spent years in Ireland trying to get the stench out of my nose, and I never got used to it. Green Irish Tweed is a wonderful fantasy -- if only the reality came anywhere close to it!
But back to Cow: Look, I'm going to level with you here. I like it, but I don't think it's worth the money Zoologist asks for it -- not even close. Its green apple is nice, and it lasts a while, penetrating two hours into the early drydown before diffusing into other constituents, but if I want green apple, or any apple, I have designer frags for pennies on the dollar that get the job done just as well. Donna Karan has a thing or two to say about cheap but realistic apple. The chem Feisthauer used is perhaps a bit livelier, but negligibly so. Creation Thé Vert by Ted Lapidus puts another very similar spin on this structure of fruity-green and milky, although in Creation the milkiness is textural, and not a rendition of lactones. I will commend the perfumer for mating green to milky-vanillic, always a winning combo in my book, and I reach for Caron pour un Homme when I want it at its apotheosis. Although back in 2011, there was this pleasant little thing by Bath & Body Works called Country Chic that hit the mark as well (about $40, if memory serves).