L'Artisan Parfumeur: Timbuktu (again) and Aedes de Venustas

TIMBUKTU: Since my second-chance meet-and-greet with Cartier Declaration went so well, a commenter suggested that perhaps I might want to rethink my initially less than thrilled reaction to L'Artisan's Timbuktu, an incense fragrance created by noted perfumer Bertrand Duchaufour and heaped with so much praise, and from almost every direction, that I'm a little surprised it's still breathing (much less standing).

Duchaufaur is responsible for the likes of Commes des Garcons Kyoto (novel at the time, but now lagging behind the competition), L'Artisan Mechant Loup (a common kitchen spice drawer), Eau d'Italie Baume du Doge (hey, who spilled the vanilla?!) and L'Artisan Piment Brulant (death by green peppers), so it's not like Mr. Bertrand and I spend our spare time knocking back shots at the bar and congratulating one another on our mutual good taste.

I was hoping that a second-chance encounter with Timbuktu might open that elusive bag of charm that I completely missed the first time around, but it's not meant to be. I still find Timbuktu to be tritely floral and lightly smoky in a humdrum way, and I'm not a fan of the cold myrrh plus vetiver drydown, as it tosses a wrench into the forgivable enough elements that preceded it.

The one benefit to Timbuktu is that it could potentially be used for Monday through Friday office wear. You'd smell vaguely pretty (until four-five hours later when the wet grass dank kicks in) but not so unusual or distinct that the fragrance Nazis could single you out as the culprit du jour. Faint praise, I know.

Or you could just slap on some scented antiperspirants and hairsprays and be done with it.

Tell you what -- if you're really looking for a warm, floral, incense scent, try Ormonde Jayne Ormonde Man. If you're a woman, don't pay any attention that it's called Ormonde Man. It smells terrific on both sexes.

AEDES DE VENUSTAS: A fragrance that was created by Duchaufaur for the New York fragrance shop Aedes de Venustas (which is a great little shop, and their customer service is exemplary). The L'Artisan Aedes de Venustas fragrance could be described as Timbuktu's dark drydown on steroids, and I wish I could say that's a good thing.

I know I gave a thumbs-up to Etro Messe de Minuit, a myrrh-heavy spice and smoke fragrance with the heart of a 15th century cathedral, and you'd think this might indicate a perpetually reserved table in my heart for the dark incense crowd, but there's something about the mix in the L'Artisan Aedes that bypasses the dusty cinnamon goodness that made the Etro a keeper and skips straight to the mildew that Tara describes when she talks about myrrh fragrances in general.

Myrrh may not be an actual material in use in L'Artisan Aedes de Venustas, but the worst of its effects are certainly present, perhaps as a result from the combination of the dreaded Immortelle flower plus treemoss . . . ? So Tara, if you're reading this, I now empathize with your objections to Messe de Minuit -- if anyone were to walk past me wearing L'Artisan Aedes, I'd immediately begin checking corners and drains for water seepage.

The shame of it is that L'Artisan Aedes manages to erase nearly all its mistakes just as it's gasping its last breath, but making me wade through five to six hours of soul-crushing mildew to get to the secret room of heavenly spice (and really, it smells great on its way out the door) seems more than a little perverse.

L'Artisan Aedes was produced as a companion piece to the Aedes room candle, so apparently there was consumer demand, just don't ask me to explain why. My first reaction when I sprayed it on was, "People buy candles so that they're whole house can smell like this?" Go figure.

Scent notes for Timbuktu: green mango, pink pepper, cardamom, karo karounde flower, papyrus wood, patchouli, myrrh and vetiver.

Scent notes for Aedes de Venustas: orange oil, pink pepper, cardamom, incense essential oil, black pepper, rose, iris, cedarwood, patchouli, leather, coffee, opoponax, benzoin, treemoss (which is different from, and not as fragrant as, oakmoss), everlasting flower (the dreaded Immortelle), white musk and vanilla.