Photo (Karl Lagerfeld)

The Eighties Called: They Want Their Fougère Back.

As a disclaimer, I should clarify that I've never smelled the current formula of Photo. I've only ever smelled the original version from the early nineties, back when Lagerfeld Parfums and Benckiser was packaging it in a black "camera film" package with yellow-green lettering. If it should win any awards, it's for package design; Lagerfeld's cans generally suffer from boring graphics and forgettable color schemes, but Photo's was exceptionally good. Too bad I can't say the same for what's inside.

I'm the sort of person who appreciates vintage and newer formulas of old fragrances, although as you probably already know, I tend to view the value of vintages as something highly relative and variable. I assess each scent, with its period's zeitgeist juxtaposed against its current reviews and reviewers. That said, it's important to note that Photo's release year was 1990, so it was developed in the late eighties (no pun intended), and formulated to match the trends of the early nineties.

It's groundbreaking in that regard. Photo's basic structure is an aromatic fougère; its lavender and coumarin are unmistakable and aggressive, but they're sunken into a familiar Laz-Z-Boy of floral, herbal, and woody aromatics, which flesh out the fern accord, and create an ambery hybrid-oriental tone of their own. The lavender note is fresh, bolstered by what may be the tiniest dab of Calone, lending it an almost aquatic, salinated aura that presages the "melon" trend of the nineties. You really have to strain to notice this, though. And Photo's problems begin to outweigh its little victories as it dries down.

Within a minute of application, it becomes clear that Photo is derivative, and copies from two major eighties masculines: Drakkar Noir and Xeryus. Again, I must post a disclaimer and say that I've never smelled the vintage version of Xeryus, but if the reissued Les Parfums Mythiques version is any guide, Givenchy's fragrance was the primary template for Photo, just as Laroche's was the template for Givenchy. Drakkar Noir's treatment of lavender carried itself down a long lineage of copies before coming to rest in Lagerfeld's scent, and any changes to it were negligible. This stuff smells similar to Drakkar. 

Photo's ingredient quality is on par with Drakkar, but not with the reissued Xeryus, which smells more coherent and balanced in comparison. What this tells me is that contemporary perfumery has moved on from vintage Photo and produced a very similar fragrance that smells measurably better. While affable enough, Photo's notes feel somewhat "blurry" and clumsy; its lavender is a bit too "gummy" (and also resembles the cheap lavender in vintage Bleu Marine), its woody notes are a little too sweet, and perhaps the scent's age is to blame, but the musk in its base smells like a chemical fabric softnener ingredient, like being downwind of Bounce dryer sheets.

LPM Xeryus has cleaner, crisper note separation, with nothing "spiking out," and a much less obvious musk in its cool, ambery base. And if I want an air-conditioned lavender note, the massive herbal blast of Drakkar Noir is still more satisfying than anything else. All things considered, I should have some love for Photo, and I certainly appreciate it as an indicator of where the eighties left off and the nineties began, but find little truth in reviews exalting the vintage version. Maybe I'd enjoy the reformulation more, but I prefer to satiate my appetite for "fougerientals" elsewhere.

KL Homme (Karl Lagerfeld)

Although my bottle is older, and its musk notes seem a bit off, there is still great beauty to be found in KL Homme. It reminds me a good bit of the original Obsession for Men, also a clean, spicy oriental for button-up chaps who enjoy making bolder statements with their workday colognes. KL is just as crisp and balsamic, with nods to Cinnabar in its handling of precious woods and amber (I get an evergreen tree-resin vibe), and its rosewood and patchouli accord is stunning. Let me back up a little though and say that KL's top notes are incredibly fresh and bright, with a sweeping geranium and citrus note that smells the way running through a sprinkler on a summer day felt as a young child: cold, fizzy, and fun.

Smooth notes of clean jasmine, rose, amber, precious woods, cinnamon (for lift), benzoin, patchouli, and musk dominate the drydown, forming a rich, soft, somewhat powdery ambiance that rises gently from under the collar, perfectly pleasant and safe. There are no stinky civet farts or castoreum shadows to be found. Despite the aging of the juice, I'm fairly certain there never were any civet-like elements in here - I'm acutely sensitive to civet because I love how it smells, even at its raunchiest, and there's simply no sign of it in this composition. I do sense though that its non-animalic musk notes were stronger, perhaps more focused, and are now a bit diffuse, making its powdery base more extensive than originally intended.

As the years pass, I find myself reaching for orientals less and less. I'm not sure why. Sometimes I wish I had created a fragrance blog devoted entirely to fougères, with room for the occasional chypre. Yet orientals continue to impress me, and when I smell classics like KL, Obsession, Cinnabar, I can't help but wonder as to why this genre isn't the focus of my rotation. If KL had a big tobacco note in it, like Lagerfeld Classic, I'd probably have a new addiction to contend with, because the combination of bright, fizzy balsams and tobacco leaf would be too much to bear. Sadly there's no tobacco here, and while its clean, clear amber is delectable, I'd rather wear The Third Man instead.

Lagerfeld Classic (Karl Lagerfeld)

In 2012, Karl Lagerfeld ended his licensing agreement with Coty, and signed a twenty year contract with Inter-Parfums, wedding all formula rights to the French company. Lagerfeld Classic, formerly Lagerfeld Cologne, has once again been re-branded, and likely reformulated for the umpteenth time. I’m reviewing the Coty formula of “Classic” because it's all I could find, and it’s one hell of an interesting fragrance.

Lagerfeld Classic is arguably one of the most contentious reformulations in the history of masculine perfumery. Opinions vary widely on whether Coty successfully preserved the strength and character of its progenitor, with some swearing the differences are negligible, and others considering Classic to be tripe, and unworthy of the Lagerfeld name. I have never tried the vintage Cologne, and don’t care to. When it comes to masculines at this pricepoint, I learned my lesson with Pierre Cardin Pour Monsieur. People drone on about how infinitely superior the Tsumura formulation of PCPM is to Five Star’s, and how its richer, more-natural ingredients are sorely missed.

I happen to own both formulas of PCPM, and while I agree that Tsumura’s blending is smoother, I disagree that the fragrance smells richer. It is light and transient, with a weaker lavender than Five Star’s, and a simplistic amber that falls short of the garrulous woodiness in the reform. While it’s worth seeking out the older formula, its superiority is grossly overstated. With seventies masculines, the temptation is to view reformulations as neuterings, when in fact they’re simply reworkings of dated structures to better comport with contemporary fashions. Such is the case with Lagerfeld Classic. The original Cologne contained an amber base called Amber 83, which contained Musk Xylene, one of the most commonly-used nitromusks of yesteryear, now disavowed by IFRA regs. Its extraction was necessary, but one thing leads to another, and when the musk went, so did the amber base (replacement parts were, from what I hear, successfully found and delivered). But I digress - this fragrance is cheap enough to make owning both formulas viable.

Coty’s formula is lovely, an example of how well the company performs under pressure. There's little doubt that Karl was the one applying that pressure. He is a notorious workaholic and control freak, possessed with obsessive-compulsive professionalism and perfectionism. I recently saw a documentary about Karl Lagerfeld, which followed him through endless preparations for a seasonal show, with the man jetting between four cities in two days to ensure that no empty hangers rolled through workrooms. It is very hard to believe that he disapproved of how Coty handled Classic. I think he would sooner discontinue it, than allow it to languish.

Lagerfeld Classic opens with an bright burst of pithy orange and green tobacco leaf, its airy crispness filtered through fizzy aldehydes. The bitter citrus swiftly leads the nose to a waxy white-floral note, which has been compared here and there to Jovan Musk for Men. I don’t smell any similarity at all (though Classic is very woody-musky), but that’s just me, and perhaps there is a faint resemblance between these two. Tarragon, opopanax, tonka bean, tobacco, and patchouli lend the heart a sweet, powdery softness, although I’m more comfortable describing it as soapy, rather than powdery. There’s a certain freshness here, with the synthetic orange note pervading the entire structure, and sending the simplicity of tobacco and opopanax to a more utilitarian realm. I’ve read that the aftershave is brilliant, and indeed can smell potential for a top-grade tonic with such a pleasant balance between warm citrus and soft spice.

Yet there’s more to it than a mere feeling of everyday comfort. To fully understand Coty’s treatment, one must refer to Lagerfeld’s place in history: it was released in 1978 as Karl Lagerfeld’s signature oriental, and I’ve read that the original formula was a bit dense and “perfumey,” with an unremittingly heavy vibe. Coty had a thirty year interval at its disposal, and with an interest in toning back the concentration while preserving the orientalism of an opopanax-based amber, they apparently referenced the original formulation of Calvin Klein’s Obsession for Men. While by no means interchangeable, these fragrances share a peculiar fresh-musty style of floral ambers, where the soapiness of the green notes mesh with the softness of the spices to form a rich, semi-dandified feeling that projects for miles and lasts forever. I recall a doctor telling me once that my cologne smelled soapy-citrusy, and it was Obsession - I could see Lagerfeld eliciting similar reactions.

Comments about the difference between “Cologne” and “Classic” are definitely amusing. Some veteran basenoters and Fragranticans have wildly different opinions, but with this fragrance it pays to heed the “formula skeptics” who find little to no difference between Type A and Type B. Foetidus writes,

“I find it hard to say if it's been changed much with reformulation. Sometimes I think so because I think the rich opoponax in the base doesn't seem as rich as I remember. Other times I'm struck with an often experienced nostalgia when I spray it on. But whatever, I don't think the change has been very great, if there has been one. The bottle I use now is a recent purchase and I don't get depressed using it as I do when I spray Antaeus or Trussardi Uomo or some of the other classics that have been noticeably changed.”

In turn, Perfaddict says,

“Not much [change], really. After over 10 years without LC, i bought a 30ml bottle last July. I was not disappointed with what i smelled. Bought a larger bottle afterwards. Slightly less intense from what i remember but with good sillage and longevity. And i am a card-carrying powerhouse freak.”

Oslo-Fjord adds,

“I re-visited this fragrance some days ago, and it`s just as good as I remember. A timeless classic. Excellent sillage and staying power. I will definitively buy a bottle of this gem!”

And on Fragrantica, Starshadow opines:

“this CLASSIC version . . . I see no difference at all between it and the original. If the two are not exactly the same - and I believe they are - then they are, in my estimation, entirely too close to distinguish from one another.”

So would it be fair to say that the reformulation of Lagerfeld Classic is a cheap shadow of its former self, a dollar-store version of Lagerfeld Cologne? Certainly, but only as a subjective opinion about Coty’s formula. It’s safe to say that experienced noses would disagree, based on what is quoted above. Woody, spicy, powdery, sweet, citric, musky, Lagerfeld Classic is a little bit of everything to all people, and remains in production as that rare seventies oriental with a view to the twenty-first century.