Bogart (Jacques Bogart)

The house of Jacques Bogart was established by Jacques Konckier in 1975, many years before its acquisition of Balenciaga in 1986, and Ted Lapidus in 1998. Konckier's stated vision for the brand was "I create only for men." Bogart's 1975 eponymous debut had been, until recently, their flagship scent; it is apparently discontinued. Jacques Bogart has always been a European concern, with its main distribution channels snaking through the central and eastern regions of the old continent and across the Middle East, only appearing in the USA via the secondary grey and eBay market. Bogart, dubbed "Signature" after the pen-and-ink graphic on its box, is often likened to another major European export of the time, Paco Rabanne pour Homme (1973), but I think it's a little more accurate to view it as the European progenitor to a popular American mainstay of that groovy era, Halston 1-12, which was released the following year. 

Halston 1-12's resemblance to Bogart is obvious from first spray, as they share a similarly bombastic opening accord of desiccated citrus, green galbanum, lavender, pine needles, and mastic resin, but Bogart's notes are filtered through more than just the soapy linalool of Roy Halston's scent. Max Gavarry and Vincent Marcello's collaboration on 1-12 was a unification of Marcello's mastery of the agrestic chypre (Lauder's Private Collection) with Gavarry's unique take on lavender and vetiver (Puig's Estivalia), which resulted in an erstwhile barn burner of a chypre-fougère hybrid. Their other Halston chypre, Z-14, was an early "clubber" (Studio 54) frag, while 1-12 competed with "mature" colognes like Royal Pub, Kanøn Man, and Grey Flannel to win over the Republican Wall Street types who quietly bankrolled these brands and demanded something in return. 

Perfumer Maurice Maurin nodded to this conservative segment of American fragrance culture with an aromatic fougère body on a rawhide leather chassis. The distinguishing feature of Bogart is a finessed accord of phenylacetic acid (dank sweetness), Atlas cedar oil (fetid woods), and trace isobutyl quinoline for an unassertive animalic base under otherwise clean greens. Bogart is like a cool breeze through a wilderness in late summer, after the funk of high heat has dissipated, with traces of deer and beaver gently lingering on its trail. Some reviewers mention the inclusion of dimetol, but Maurin may have also tinkered with trace amounts of dihydromyrcenol, which is perhaps why many link Bogart to Paco Rabanne pour Homme. Combined with dimetol, DHM creates the same nuanced herbal freshness found in Acteur, Maurin's 1989 brief submission for Azzaro. Bogart is unusual for the brand in that it is the only Bogart frag that lacks bombast; it smells demurely green, leathery, and dry, and recedes instead of reaching out. Patchouli and oakmoss complete its far drydown, with cedar-centered woods growing only slightly funkier, and I appreciate the somber woody-green aura of this stuff.

That said, I actually prefer many of Bogart's contemporaries over it, and find its staid personality a little too reserved for my liking. If you were to ask me which is better, Bogart "Signature" or One Man Show (1981), I'd have to point to the latter. It's cruder, yes, but it's also crisper, grassier, muskier, and all around more distinctive and, frankly, more fun. Still, Bogart "Signature" is a worthy olfactory callback to an era when men in suits and ties commuted by train to New York City for twelve-hour workdays, indulged in expensive martini lunches with their attractive female secretaries, then boarded the seven o'clock express home to their wives and young children in Groton.

Silver Scent (Jacques Bogart)

Grapes, Gum, Orange Blossom, Bacchus

I've done my best to ascertain why they named it "Silver" Scent, but I've come up empty. I'd like to say that it was their "silver" anniversary, but 2006 is not 25 years after 1975, so that doesn't wash. There's nothing silvery about the smell of Silver Scent, so its name and the story behind it remains an impenetrable mystery.

Methyl anthranilate is a naturally occurring chemical in Concord grapes, and I love how grapes smell. Additionally, MA is found in oranges and neroli, two things that also smell great, so finding it in such singular abundance in a fragrance is interesting. When I was a small child, I was briefly obsessed with a pearlescent black plastic necklace that my grandmother gave me to play with. I'll never forget one particular summer afternoon of fidgeting with the beads and marveling at how their colors shifted depending on their angle relative to the sunlight. Silver Scent is the olfactory incarnation of that necklace. It's a blast of black grape soda in the first fifteen minutes, followed by the neon of an expensive grape-flavored bubblegum from the 1990s. But then, an hour in, it shifts to subtle nuances of Joop! Homme, a distinct shimmer of off-white orange blossoms that add a retro floral glow. Bend down to tie my shoe, and it's purple candy again. 

I've seen some reviews that denigrate Silver Scent as simplistic, linear, one-note. It does play one simple tune, but it plays it with an affecting innocence that lingers long enough (and loudly enough) to elicit suspicions of disingenuousness, like the chronically-caffeinated coworker who always blurts "Awwwww!" when someone gets engaged. At its core, this is a decadent fragrance, steeped in the richness of amaranthine fruits and the cheap dessert wines rendered by them. Only a person who has achieved enough in life to enjoy it could wear this and understand what it's saying, a trait typical of the most seasoned among us. Perhaps that's what they meant by "silver" after all.

78 Vintage Green (Banana Republic)

Whenever I stop at Burlington, I try to find a 75 mL bottle of 78 Vintage Green (I once saw a 5 oz bottle and passed on it, years ago), and I've had no luck. I suspect the original Icon line of Banana Republic fragrances is quietly being discontinued, as grey market stock on several of them has dried up considerably since their first appearance in 2017. 

There are a handful of 30 mL bottles floating around store shelves, however, and the other day I paid the $13 for one. (I could've purchased two, but I'm stupid.) My take on the fragrance: This stuff is nice, but weirdly redundant in my collection. Everything I'd read about it suggested it was a bright, vegetal-green hesperidic scent with a hint of fig leaf and a surprising amount of galbanum. Instead, it's a soapy and overwhelmingly synthetic rehash of Versace Versence in the first 3 hours, with a woody fig note for 2 of them that recalls Salvatore Ferragamo, before settling at the 6-hour mark on Linen Vetiver's mossy-musky base. The far drydown is identical to Linen Vetiver's. 

Worth having? Not for me. There's an astringent green tea note tucked in the opening accord of 78 Vintage Green that strongly resembles the tea in ck One Essence, but Gino Percontino's composition never quite convinces me that it's better than any of the aforementioned releases. While I'm not a huge Versence fan, Versace's scent smells more balanced. Essence is more natural. Ferragamo is more focused. And Linen Vetiver is softer and more dimensional with its warmer greens undergirding a summery floral bouquet. I simply don't need this particular Icon fragrance. A 1 oz bottle is too much. 

Pino Silvestre Black Forest (Parfums Mavive)

No release date. No promo copy. No promo, period. A perfume that was nonexistent one day, and everywhere online the next. No reviews. No conversations. No mention of it anywhere. Until now: I own a bottle of Pino Silvestre Black Forest so you don't have to, and I'm here to tell you about it.

Except there isn't a ton for me to say. Do you remember Green Generation Him ♂ with the opaque black bottle that came in a silver cylinder? Of course not. Nobody does. Parfums Mavive releases these things to five "farmacias" out in the backwoods of Italy and then discontinues them a few months later because, surprise surprise, they don't sell. GGH was released in 1998 and is a watery-herbal thing with fennel and orange blossom over a pallid derivation of ck Eternity for Men. It's an extremely rare fragrance. How rare, you ask? So rare that the bottle and packaging shown on its Parfumo page is my bottle and packaging. Literally my photo, cropped out. Nobody can find the stuff, and they're not missing much, although I do like it, and it does smell pretty good. 

Black Forest reminds me of it. Same sweet orange blossom over lavender 1990s fresh fougère underpinnings, except a denser and sweeter accord to reflect the cavity-inducing times we live in. A hint of cinnamon, a very light sprinkling of amaretto, but then minutes later, minty herbs, woods, "dark" greens that refuse to fully elucidate their intentions, or their identities. Lush coumarin, a mossy texture that smells entirely synthetic, and some musk, perhaps after the brand's own Black Musk? That one also comes in opaque black glass. Black Forest is interesting but challenging and reminds me of a Zoologist scent I can't quite place. I rarely wear Green Generation Him ♂ but I really don't foresee myself wearing this much either. It's not terrible. It's wearable, and I guess I could see maybe wearing it for kicks now and then, but Jesus. Talk about oddball. 

I imagine this will be discontinued in a few months, and prices will skyrocket on eBay in the next five years, after whatever limited production run gets exhausted from grey market sellers. Mavive's inspired-by nineties scent is better, easier, much more accessible. But what do I know? Somewhere in Naples is a guy in a Ferrari rocking Black Forest while his buxom squeeze rocks him. Let's hope he reviews it, so I'm not the first and last word. 

Jungle Vibe (Rayhaan): Nineties Vibe

Using Forbidden Words

If you were to ask the folks at Estée Lauder, I think they'd say "jungle" is not politically correct enough to include in a fragrance name. Synthetic Nature was once called Synthetic Jungle, but a decade after Lauder's acquisition of Frédéric Malle, one might suppose that a combo of market testing, possible trademark infringement (Kenzo Jungle), and distaste for the perceived "cultural appropriation" of jungle-adjacent communities led to the decision to delete "jungle" and pretend it never happened.

Rayhaan does not possess the same scruples. Jungle Vibe, released in 2025, celebrates the jungle in its vibe. Green bottle. Leaf patterned glass. Bodoni Poster font in all-caps. The fragrance smells at least a little wild and green, and everything it puts out alludes to that. But having taken a closer look, I've concluded that the fragrance is a victim of an even wilder and painfully shortsighted influencer campaign. Apparently every YouTube and TikTok broccoli head out there is saying Jungle Vibe is a clone of Dries Van Noten's 2022 Santal Greenery, as if Santal Greenery is the only other green-woody fig frag. 

I hasten to proffer a contrarian view: Jungle Vibe is instead a first cousin of Salvatore Ferragamo pour Homme (1999). My evidence? By the way, do not confuse evidence with proof; many complain of a dill pickle smell in the Rayhaan, but if you refer to the reviews of Ferragamo pour Homme on Fragrantica, you find immediate references to dill pickles there as well. Jungle Vibe smells like a carbon copy of the older perfume, but with blatant embellishments tacked on to give it its own identity. For example, Ferragamo predates Rayhaan's crisp fig and sandalwood structure, but Rayhaan modified this scent profile into something grassier and vaguely herby, and with salty Ambroxan in the base. 

Jungle Vibe is enjoyable, not because it smells like another green fig scent (it does), but because I relish it as a late 1990s throwback. That Bodoni font with the script over it, that color fade on the box and bottle, that abstract fig in the fragrance, all are reminiscent of the artistic and cultural styles of 30 years ago. Refer to Chopard Heaven as the starting point for the packaging aesthetic, and work out from there. The "pickle" problem is really a matter of personal perception, i.e., how an individual nose smells Javanol. Some perceive smooth creamy woods with accents of green twigs and rose, while others smell brine. I smell a good perfume, green, a little herbal, sweet with fig, and woody, with pickled Javanol that doesn't bother me in the slightest. 

My partner remarked more than once that Jungle Vibe smells intensely green and bitter-grassy, which is interesting because my nose picks up way more of the sugary fig and grapefruit. But there's no denying Jungle Vibe smells good, and is well made. Why all the video-reviewing midwits are hellbent on claiming it's like one particular niche scent is beyond me. It's not like Dries Van Noten's scent profile is "original." The late 1990s were littered with fig scents, including numerous masculines, so when you smell this type of fragrance, you can really take your pick of what it most resembles.

Ithaque (Memo Paris)

Ithaque is a Greek mythological isle said to be the home of Odysseus. Well, Ithaca is the reference name for it, and Ithaque is the French translation. Memo is interested in French flourishes, and contrasts the name with stylized ancient Grecian imagery on the bottle of their 2023 fragrance, luring in the fat wallets with an admittedly striking package. You'd be forgiven for assuming this scent has a direct connection to Greece, when in fact it bears little to no resemblance to anything from Pyrgos. 

Instead, Ithaque (the fragrance) smells rather like a minimalist interpretation of the dead-horse Aventus DNA. It's also an "ignore the official pyramid" perfume. The market copy says little about what's really going on here. Ithaque opens with one of those weird, contemporary-luxe "fruity" accords that bears a glancing likeness to citrus/fruits (grapefruit, pineapple, red apple) yet smells anything but natural. This weird Franken-citrus also reads as slightly floral, with tartness, crispness, greenness. Eventually it dusks up and resolves into a recognizable shape: blackcurrant, paired with Texas cedar-like woodiness for a dry-smoky profile that lingers for the duration of the fragrance's 12-hour lifespan. Eventually, it fades out to a discreet, low-dose laundry musk. 

There's clearly Hedione HC and Iso E Super here, but there's also a few fancier chems that flesh out the juniper-like fruitiness that lingers in the periphery of that massive blackcurrant accord. I happen to love anything blackcurrant, so despite my misgivings about Ithaque smelling 99.9% synthetic, which is troubling at Memo's price-point, I actually really like this stuff. At the 45-minute mark, the cedar element pushes past the fruity tones to give Ithaque a similarity to Banana Republic's equally fruity-woody Cypress Cedar, but only until the smoky currant fully kicks in with marginal sweetness.

Another pleasantly clean, transparent scent indebted to Aventus.