Royall Muske (Royall Lyme Bermuda)

The brilliant post-Impressionist Paul Gauguin lived a fantastic life, full of contrasts, exotic adventure, and darkness. His biography could have been penned by Thor Heyerdahl, so packed is it with lusty exploits and read-it-to-believe-it failures of character, a true hooligan's daydream writ large. Whenever I stand before a Gauguin, I feel the Tahitian heat shimmering off the canvas, hear the island chatter in the air, unintelligible but still meaningful, and smell the naked skin of the native women wading in the rushes. 

The artist understood their allure; men are men, and they respond to natural pheromones secreted by skin (even through years of sand and salt), and palm-oiled hair. This human musk, commingling with spices, is sure to be intoxicating. Enough to stay away from civilization and slip into decadent obscurity, to die alone with little more than an unfinished winterscape of home on your easel.

When slipped into this context, the idea behind Royall Muske is uncomplicated but compelling, as it's just a sweet, nicely-rendered musk, with a faint touch of spice in the far periphery. It suffers a bit from excessive soapiness, especially in its first few minutes, and almost becomes a handsoap formula, but its balance and strong presence gives it a finer feel. The musk powders sweetly, clings to skin, and takes on a vague barbershop quality, before fading away. There isn't much complexity or movement beyond the one-step, but it smells good, and with the island allusions that accompany this brand, is capable of transporting the wearer to someplace southeast of wherever he may be. 

Don't wear Royall Muske as a serious signature cologne, but do give it a splash every now and then during the winter months, to relieve seasonal affective disorder. Following that thought, I'd say it also goes well with a Malibu bay breeze and a copy of Fatu Hiva.

Royall Spyce (Royall Lyme Bermuda)

Modern perfumery styles have come a long way. Back in the old days (anytime before 1850) a man smelled "fresh" if he was covered in citrus oils and flower absolutes. The eau de cologne did then what aquatics do now. Likewise, if a man wanted to smelled refined and sophisticated, he doused himself in extracts of kitchen spices, which was akin to wearing an oriental. Was this real perfumery? Yes. It was crude design. Citrus and spice, with dashes of floral oils, were pretty much the only available building blocks. Today we have things like Calone, ionones, burnt-sugar orientals, and neon fruity-florals. We've also dispensed with ruffled collars, from what I understand.

Royall Lyme Bermuda has prided itself for years on the skillful re-capture of Old-World styles in updated glass flacons of good quality. Royall Lyme was its first foray into fragrance, and to date their most famous. The simple concept of taking lime extracts and making it into a tonic was as popular in the 17th century as it was in the 20th. I'm glad they upheld that tradition, as limes are my favorite fruit. It's hard to beat the clean, woody smell of limes. (See also English Leather.)

Shortly thereafter a series of Royall scents emerged, and Spyce was one of them. Launched in 1961, it adopts the "fresh-spicy" profile of other fragrances in that style, like Old Spice, and Coty's L'Origan. Royall Spyce is considerably simpler than either of those two, featuring a bracing and short-lived burst of lemon oil up top, followed by a warm drydown of black pepper, clove, and cinnamon. The pepper/clove accord is central, and creates a cool, piquant aroma. Cinnamon is an afterthought, seemingly added to keep the composition from being too simple and dull. It adds some heat, and does a good job of propping this mundane style up. I can't recommend Spyce in lieu of Old Spice - P&G's classic oriental is far more complex and satisfying - but when you need a little noncommittal kick after a shave, this gets the job done nicely.

Royall Lyme (Royall Lyme Bermuda)

Royall Lyme is a rare one-note citrus cologne wonder. There are several lime scents out there that focus on being all about lime, but few come close to being as singularly designed as this one. This is Royall Lyme Bermuda's signature cologne, and as such I expected much more from it. It let me down in a big way.

The lime note is nice enough, and certainly smells plenty limey. There's a biting tartness, with just a hint of sweet, and an overall green, fruity feeling. It's quite naturalistic, and for a minute or two smells like I drizzled lime juice on my arm. But I must point out that the current formula of Royall Lyme is beleaguered by an alcoholic haze, which surrounds the scent in an astringent unpleasantness usually found in cheap shit. This seems to add to its volatility. There's five minutes of limey goodness, and then poof! - It's completely gone. There are no wildflowers, no musks, no spices or herbs, nothing underlying the simple fruit note. They really took the concept literally, leaving nothing to imagine.

Given its low price, I recommend giving Royall Lyme a try. If you're the sort of guy who likes a fresh splash after a shower or shave, and just want a short-lived lime cologne for the summer, you could do worse. I understand Pinaud still makes Lime Sec. But if you'd like something with an elegant lime on a floral/musk base that persists for a good hour after application, you could do much, much better. Royall Lyme is the slouchy slacker in the back of the classroom who gets invited to all the parties and knows all the girls, yet defers to the much-smarter Floris Limes for answers whenever the teacher gives a test.

Royall Bay Rhum (Royall Lyme Bermuda)

Royall is a terrific throwback brand, founded in 1957 by an accomplished yachtsman named Anthony J. Gaade. His first fragrance was Royall Lyme, an island formula that was surprisingly complex in its day, and which saw American success after its introduction with Brooks Brothers in 1960. Since then there have been several more fragrances, most in an EDC concentration, all successful with both sexes.

One of the things I like about Royall is that their frags smell naturalistic. There aren't any overwhelming chemical smells baked into the compositions. In fact, these fragrances tend to smell like real infusions of well-composed raw ingredients, a trait commonly found in only the most expensive niche fare. Royall is in fact a niche brand. Like Fragrances of Ireland, the philosophy backing Royall is one of universality and inclusiveness, with a laid back, come-as-you-are feeling to the advertising and the fragrances themselves.

Bay Rhum is a very simple scent, and draws on the classic Bay Rhum formula that was so popular back in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. It opens with a pleasant burst of grassiness, very dark green and fresh, and within thirty seconds moves into a spicy melange of clove, pepper, and bay leaf. The clove is prominent and darkens the scent's green flavor significantly, but also adds freshness. After an hour, the fragrance has dried down to a spare clove and bay skin scent, with a hint of the brighter greens still slouching by the exit. This is excellent stuff, quite inexpensive, and worth looking into as a summer splash. Two thumbs up, and this is from a guy who doesn't even like bay rum!