Since we’re rapidly barreling into the darker, cooler season, I thought it might be a good idea to dig my Neil Morris samples out of the box and give ‘em a go. I’d originally ordered them back in the summer and they seemed a bit too rich and heady for the Dallas heat at the time, but now, I think the time is just about right.
OCTOBER: buttery and spicy, this reminds me of apple orchards on a cold day, hot cider, fallen leaves crackling underfoot, woodsmoke from the chimneys. I almost want to say I smell pumpkin in it, as well — but maybe I’m smelling the spices that usually go into pumpkin pie, instead: nutmeg, cinnamon, vanilla, baked sugar. There’s clove buried in there, too.
Candied and absolutely edible, you’d have to pry a bottle of this out of the cold dead hands of any true gourmand fan. It’s too rich and spicy-sweet thick for me, personally, but I’d have to be deaf, dumb and blind not to notice that it has its charms.
BURNT AMBER: take the charred heart of CB I Hate Perfume Burning Leaves, lace it with a jigger of soft bourbon aged in oakwood casks and you’ll get something that might closely resemble Burnt Amber.
Easy, casual and comfortable, it’s a likable fragrance but so deeply smoky that I think a lot of wearers might be a bit put off by it; however, if you’re not afraid of perfumes with a generous dose of char, Burnt Amber is worth a try. Wool sweaters, cashmere scarves and leather overcoats are suggested accessories, but not required.
DARK SEASON: patchouli, vanilla, a bit of cinnamon, a hint of oakmoss, Dark Season is warm and cool at the same time, the labdanum tussling with the scent of pine resin for a relaxed sense of balance.
While not as pumpkie-pie sugary as October, it manages to register a tad sweeter than the darker Burnt Amber, the cinnamon lending it a twinge of the gourmand. It smells to me as if it wants to play within the more traditional amber genre, yet the myrrhe and pine keep it several degrees cooler than would otherwise be expected.
EARTHTONES #3 — NORTHWOODS: my least favorite of the four. I understand the concept behind it — a walk through a northern forest, the smell of leaves, tree bark, moss and cold stone, and while I appreciate the scent of oakmoss, I’m not a fan of fragrances that put it front and center.
As Northwoods sits on the skin, it mellows out to become more earthen and woodsy, but it never shakes its uber-high oakmoss quotient. If you’re big on oakmoss, then you should love Northwoods hands down; but if you’re iffy on the sharp, bitter scent of oakmoss trailing you around all day, then you should pass this one by.
{ 6 comments }
For me, Northwoods was pretty spot on for a woods that approached the 45th parallel…you need a certain amount of pine or balsam in there, along with the leaves, humus, etcetera. Worked for me as a perfume of place.
Burnt Amber, as you also say, is more a cozy scent, to be worn as a comfortable layer.
I have yet to check out Dark Season and October…but have been pleasantly surprised by Spectral Violet.
Dark Season is a solid piece of work, and the little bit of mulled wine is a cunning touch. The longevity is impressive, too; a solid 5 to 6 hours, with a nice drydown, but . . .
I wouldn’t buy any of the Morris fragrances myself, though more because they’re not my style rather than because I don’t think they’re any good. I seem to have stumbled into a French perfume phase for the moment — I blame Pierre Guillaume.
Do you think I would like the Burnt Amber? I’ve been interested by some of the descriptions of the Neil Morris fragrances, but as you say, they’re not really my style, so I haven’t sprung for samples yet.
I’ve been thinking about that, and was thinking about it even as I was writing the review, and my considered response would be “no” — it’s a decent enough fragrance, smoky and deeply woodsy, but there’s a lack of complexity and/or sophistication to it that I believe you would find disappointing in the long run.
You might appreciate it now and then, but I would say it would sit on your shelf, mostly unused. Compared to a Serge Lutens, a Parfumerie Generale or a Vero Profumo, there simply isn’t enough there there.
I think I can best describe a Neil Morris fragrance this way: it’s direct and uncomplicated, like chatting with the bartender while waiting for your best friend to show up for your dinner date. Shooting the breeze with the bartender passes the time, but it’s not why you’re really there.
Morris’ work reminds me of the CB I Hate Perfume line. There are some things I like about CB I Hate Perfume, but I’m not crazy enough about any of it to spring for a bottle (wait, I take that back — I did purchase a small bottle of the musk absolute, but wish that I hadn’t; I don’t ever wear it).
Hmm, thanks for your response – that was my general sense as well. I don’t like simple straightforward scents much – I like complexity and development.
That’s what I thought, that you’d be vastly disappointed with: “Oh, it’s smoke, amber and wood, and now it’s amber and wood, and now it’s just wood . . .”
How’s that Vero Onda working for you, btw (speaking of fragrances that go places). After you’ve lived with it for a bit, are you still as enthused?