by Mark
Of all the "bad boy" fragrances, the outlaws, the ones whose whispered descriptions contain the words "unwashed" and "crotch", often in succession, and sometimes with "of a Mongolian horseman after three days of burning, raping and pillaging" appended, it may be that none has a more salacious reputation than Muscs Koublaï Khän.
Thus, it was with great anticipation that I first pulled the stopper on a sample. Civet and castoreum? Bring it!
The first sniff of the vial seemed promising; yes, there was civet in there.
On application, though, it seemed much like Kiehl's Musk Oil, a similarity that has been noted by many a reviewer before. A simple floral musk, nothing terrible or even animalic about it.
Fortunately, it did not take long before MKK began to develop, something that Kiehl's does not ever seem to do, on me anyway.
MKK shuffled its accords and painted scenes with them. However, they were not dramatic, sharply pitched scenes of lust and conquest; they were more like dreamy landscapes with dark clouds scudding through a sky above shifting fields of roses and poppies. Sensual, yes, but more of a lazy Sunday afternoon lovers' feast than a frenzied, climactic battle.
Once into the base notes, it was familiar Sheldrake territory with resinous labdanum, vanilla and patchouli to lull the lovers into sleep.
In subsequent wearings, only once did the civet ever really raise its head, and it was glorious; I wouldn't mind if it did it more often. But mostly, this is a sultry, sometimes even sweet, and floral musk.
Sometimes, that fierce-looking punk rocker turns out to be a shy fellow, keeping the world at bay with his spikes.
Thus, it was with great anticipation that I first pulled the stopper on a sample. Civet and castoreum? Bring it!
The first sniff of the vial seemed promising; yes, there was civet in there.
On application, though, it seemed much like Kiehl's Musk Oil, a similarity that has been noted by many a reviewer before. A simple floral musk, nothing terrible or even animalic about it.
Fortunately, it did not take long before MKK began to develop, something that Kiehl's does not ever seem to do, on me anyway.
MKK shuffled its accords and painted scenes with them. However, they were not dramatic, sharply pitched scenes of lust and conquest; they were more like dreamy landscapes with dark clouds scudding through a sky above shifting fields of roses and poppies. Sensual, yes, but more of a lazy Sunday afternoon lovers' feast than a frenzied, climactic battle.
Once into the base notes, it was familiar Sheldrake territory with resinous labdanum, vanilla and patchouli to lull the lovers into sleep.
In subsequent wearings, only once did the civet ever really raise its head, and it was glorious; I wouldn't mind if it did it more often. But mostly, this is a sultry, sometimes even sweet, and floral musk.
Sometimes, that fierce-looking punk rocker turns out to be a shy fellow, keeping the world at bay with his spikes.
Perfumer: Christopher Sheldrake
Year: 1998
Notes: civet, castoreum, costus roots, cumin, labdanum, Moroccan rose, ambergris, ambrette seeds, beeswax, vanilla and patchouli.
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