Hearts & Daggers for Men (Ed Hardy)

Ed Hardy fragrances are weird. I get the whole tattoo artist brand legacy, and thus the godawful packaging and "edgy" names, but the question remains as to who they're for. Love & Luck comes sheathed in a canister that looks like it was designed by a seventh grader, yet under the cheese is an unadorned column of glass containing a very good woody-floral musk, the sort of thing that appeals to adults with excellent taste. 

Hearts & Daggers holds similar intrigue as something by the same perfumer, Oliver Gillotin, and of course the packaging is bilious. What I've read online has me believing that even the best fragrance writers are overthinking this scent. Many say it's a bizarre aquatic with cocktail accords of martini and olives alongside a pear-flavored umbrella drink, but I don't think it's quite that complicated. H&D was released in 2010, only a few years after 2007's Chrome Legend, in which Chrisophe Raynaud and Olivier Pescheux famously veiled a jasmine bouquet under a bevy of aldehydes and salinated musks. They used congeners of Muscenone and Habanolide to abstract its feminine core, and it smells like the same trick is used in H&D, except here the chemicals overlay a pear note. While pear isn't quite as compelling as jasmine, it's still interesting to smell an inexpensive salty musk accord that can elucidate on the various facets of something ostensibly familiar and simple. Sometimes I get whiffs of the juicy sweetness of the fruit, while in others I get drier and woodier nuances. Why Gillotin stopped at pear and didn't include a few other fruits is beyond me, but I imagine the budget was his main constraint. 

I do think he misjudged the degree to which Raynaud and Pescheux imbued Legend with its sea-spray effect, because it feels like H&D is the 8-bit version of Azzaro's 64-bit display. But when the prickly saltiness recedes, the story of Hearts & Daggers rests on one clear little thing: pear. It's $12 for a large bottle of this, but for a similar frag done much better, you might as well pay a few bucks more and get Legend. 

Love & Luck for Men (Ed Hardy)

There are hundreds of discount, down-market designer masculines out there, and maybe one out of every thirty of them is worth a sniff. Given those odds, you'd be forgiven for passing on Ed Hardy's Love & Luck, a cheap cologne in a cheesy bottle aimed at teenagers. My only reason for giving this fragrance a chance is that it's constantly being compared to Creed's Millésime Impérial, which is five times more expensive. I figured the comparisons were way off, and wanted to find out what L&L really smells like. Well, turns out it smells (drumroll, please) - cheap.

Love & Luck's best feature is its warm citrus opening of mandarin, bergamot, and cardamom. It makes me think, "Okay, fruit and fresh spice - not bad!" Of course, not very imaginative or interesting, either, but at least it smells good. After seven or eight minutes, the fresh top gets woodier, and reveals a sheer violet leaf note that feels very conventional, and reminds me of Calvin Klein Man's violet leaf, which means it also reminds me more distantly of Dior's reformulated Fahrenheit. I don't get the oiliness of either of those fragrances, nor do I get the Creed associations that others do, but then again Millésime Impérial has been compared to Green Irish Tweed, which has been compared to Cool Water, which has been compared to Grey Flannel, which has knocked shoulders here and there with none other than Fahrenheit in fragrance discussions. With those and CK Man in tow, are we looking at the Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon here?

I don't know, but I do know that eventually L&L falls apart and just becomes a watery-musky mess. In light of far better options (everything listed above), I have no idea why anyone would opt to wear this. It doesn't smell like Millésime Impérial, and just smells of raw aroma chemicals Lego-ed together into a party-favor "cheapie" with a sunny disposition. Truth be told, I wouldn't mind smelling it on a woman.

Update, 12/4/2022:

I've recently revisited this one, and must revise my opinion. When I smelled this in 2013, I wasn't really as open-minded about what I smelling as I should have been. Having it on my arm today, I think the problem with L&L is its secondhand association with Creed. If you detach the fragrance from comparisons to niche fare, suddenly its quality and originality shines. The citrus is still nice, although I think the older bottle had better note separation and juicier mandarin, whereas this EA bottle is a bit "grey" citrusy and not nearly as radiant. Fortunately this is the only stage that suffered reformulation, as the rest, from the two minute mark onward, smells as it did nine years ago. I think it's a solid scent profile for guys who want "fresh" and "modern."

In the dry-down I get what sort of smells like cedar and a bit of a bleached oud note behind a veil of abstract white floral notes and an abstract watermelon, although the watermelon is tucked neatly behind the rest and doesn't really step forward to announce itself as Calone. Just a subtle fruity sweetness. The requisite aquatic saltiness is also present, adding an additional level of smoothness and complexity, and I appreciate the beauty of this arrangement. This is something that rises to another level, and possesses a classiness seldom found in something at this price point. I guess love really is a gamble.