Maddeningly difficult to procure in the U.S., Pascal Morabito’s Or Black is a men’s fragrance that makes other classic masculines by Guerlain, Caron, Chanel, YSL, etc. seem timid and near prim in comparison.
It starts off with a refreshing note that smells like a tanker truck full of diesel fuel crashed into a field of roses, then quickly pans to the resulting scene of rubber, new leather, gasoline, a smidgeon of asphalt and a big, sweaty truck driver cussing up a blue streak as he stomps his way across a couple acres of freshly flattened blooms, leaves and thorny stems.
It all sounds far more potent and overt than it actually is — as if you’re taking it in through binoculars a hundred yards away, so the odors are smoother, fainter, dispersed by the breezes necessary to reach where you stand.
I’d wear Or Black anywhere and everywhere; unfortunately, it’s now available only as a limited edition release and I can’t imagine why. It beats the ever-lovin’ stuffin’ out of Yatagan.
I read an article today mentioning that Dolce & Gabbana’s Light Blue Pour Homme won this year’s FiFi award for best luxury male fragrance. Light Blue Pour Homme is a crisp green-apple and soap concoction which holds absolutely no appeal for me. Is this what the market has decided men should smell like? Green apples and soap?
It’s a cruel world indeed where the square-jawed virility of Or Black is pushed aside for the fruity androgyny of Light Blue Pour Homme. I, for one, am weary of Tom Cruise. When can I get my Robert Mitchum back?
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