Egoiste

TL;DR An unusual scent; powerful and strong, it's primarily woody and very 'dry.' There is a 'funky' element to it, and a sort of spicy accord (not individual spices, not like an oriental) float around. I like it a lot, but I can see why it was a commercial failure in 1990. It's very distinctive, and even polarising. ***************************** This is an unusual scent, and you can see why it was a commercial failure for Chanel in 1990, although I love it. It doesn't fit its moment in time at all; it wasn't an 80s powerhouse (apologies for using Fragrantica cliches...) and it wasn't an Acqua di Gio, CK Eternity fresh-type scent of the 90s - although they'd catch up on that trend with the Platinum 'version' of this scent (it’s simply a different scent, though – not a flanker of the original in any way). Reading the reviews below, I was motivated to write because ... well, reviewers say that they can smell very strong, distinctive elements, but these are generally things which would struggle to exist alongside the other things people claim to smell as well. As such, the descriptions aren't really capturing what the scent offers. People are claiming (on aggregate) to be finding so many, often incompatible, scent profiles - perhaps this "unknowability" or "illegibility" really is the conclusion we should draw. You could have a woody and tobacco. You could have cinnamon and rose. You could have rose and coriander. You could have orange and cloves. You could have rose and sandalwood... but could all these things be robustly there at the same time? It would just be an olfactory shouting match. Clearly, something is amiss. Because this isn't shouting match. I think that the 'notes' people are pulling out are not really 'notes,' in the sense that this perfume is more 'one thing' or an 'accord' rather than a list of notes that you move through. It's a sort of woody, funky, dry, very, very masculine accord. Both on Fragrantica and Basenotes, woods and spices crop up a lot, and they’re right. But the spices are strikingly NOT oriental in nature. They’re a sort of dry funk in the background. They’re nothing like, say, contemporary niche spices (like you’d find in Amouage, or MFK, or Penhaligon’s), or more traditional ones either (like Jaipur, or Declaration, or Lagerfeld Classic). Wood, wood wood - sandal, mahogany, rosewood. There's no oud, thankfully (but then, this is from 1990). The next notes to register in the votes on Fragrantaca are tobacco and rose... hmmm. If the tobacco is there, it’s there not as tobacco itself, but as a dry, flaky, background ‘leaf dust’ of some sort. Think autumn, not humidor. Or don’t think it at all – I really think that tobacco isn’t a big deal at all – and Basenotes doesn’t list is as a note. Rose is there, but way, way back - it's some kind of dusty, dried pot pourri rose, absolutely nothing like, say, Lyric Man or Sables Roses. It's really dialled back, dusty and austere. It lasts all day. I like it very much. It's unlike anything else around, and something of a perfume orphan, out of time, out of place. If you're the sort of person who reads reviews, I think you'll like it too. But not if you're into sweet scents that smell of snacks.

Yes, it's a classic but Chanel's Egoiste is simply a work of art. Standing up extremely well in a world full of hype, passing fads and fake culture. The scent; It opens with a woody, spicy, warming blast joined very quickly by an exquisite rose. Masterfully supported by myriad of ingredients including gentle citrus', a touch of cinnamon and an assortment of florals, spices, woods, leather (I think), amber and vanilla. Combining to construct a rounded scent, quite unlike anything else I've experienced. Chanel clearly know what they are doing and perhaps the very best at making traditional perfumery that stands the test of time. You only have to look at Pour Monsieur, Antaeus and Platinum egoiste (+ many more) as testimony to their excellence in this genre. I know the Ingredients sound extensive and complex but it's so beautifully executed and blended to perfection, giving a fragrance that is very much rose forward (to my nose) but never completely on its own. There is always another element that'll come drifting by every time you opt to wear this scent and move about. It's an old style EDT and easily rivals many modern EDPs in strength, sillage and longevity. Relying on its quality ingredients and masterful construction rather than resorting to industrial and agricultural chemicals. 😂 Noticeable over arms length for hours, then around arms length for a few more comfortably. You'll have a solid, reliable bubble for the best part of a day and more. It'll see you through, no matter the task. The sillage will waft past anyone within a metre or two as you cross paths. Trust me when I say that all the right kind of people will notice, enjoying your trail. It's definitely for the older man, quite easily a woman too. Both past the first flourishes of youth 35+, understanding that not everything has to be full on, instant and light speed. This is a scent that will be enjoyed by people who literally like to "smell the roses". Strangely, I can see high powered professionals and business people utilising this scents distinctive aroma to it's full effect, just as much as someone who is out and about for leisurely pursuits. It's very versatile by it's nature. Wear on all but the hottest summer days or nights. Although considered a little warming traditionally, it's delicate enough by modern beast mode standards to be considered all year and at any occasion you may wish to wear it. It'll definitely be a fantastic companion through the cooler periods though. If you are of a level headed nature, who truly understands and enjoys the finer things in life then this could be a signature scent. It's captivating, elegant, individual and compared to the vast majority of modern offerings, wonderfully distinctive and honestly, a lovely break from olfactory assault. I only tend to buy perfume that I've tried, tested and adore. Living with them doesn't always work out but Egoiste can and quite possibly should be a lifelong addition to your scent wardrobe. A masterpiece for the ages.

I felt like I didn't give the regular Egoiste the love it deserves. It's such a great fragrance, but I preferred Platinum way too much because of the fresh fougère profile and versatility. So much so that it became my signature. So, Egoiste slowly became distant to me. The prodigal son returns! I apologize, Egoiste. You are just as beautiful. They both have a calculated sharpness to them. Egoiste seems to be getting it from the carnation, cinnamon, and ambrette, and Platinum gets it from the geranium, galbanum, and cedar. As I mentioned about the versatility, this is obviously a more colder weather fragrance. Platinum was way more multi-weather, in a way that different qualities of the scent push more forth depending on conditions. Both are genuinely complex and hard to get bored of. For me, all roads eventually lead me back to Platinum. It just gives me what I want. The carnation here is clove to the max. A lot of people seem to say that they cannot pick up on the rose. I think that's due to the fact that different variations of rose are so distinctive. Like, we have an idea of what rose smells like from the look, but they vary quite a lot actually. Damask has a ''rosey spicy zing", it's bit hard to explain but damask rose has that quality, for instance turkish rose has a citrusy facet. There many varations of rose. But in this case the carnation itself is very bright floral with a recognizable clove facet. And because it's so clovey, it's more dominant, with the rose just rounding up the edges without taking away from brightness and spice cloviness. Basically it tames the carnation. And trust me, heavy carnation needs to be tamed. Combined with a very noticeable leathery pipe tobacco, it has a denser wood note as well, giving it a slightly more vintage feel compared to Platinum. I also notice a medicinal iodine "scratch" musk quality from the ambrette. Almost forgot... about the opening, it's a strong bitter, spicy, citrus tree bark. Like, it lets you know right away what you're in for. It does what it wants. EGOISTE: "You don't wear me. I wear you." That's what it's saying. But again, it's not harsh. Neither has a harsh personality. Just like Platinum, it just wants to take charge and is fully capable of doing so. Capable, confident, and at the same time gentle. The best qualities a man can have in my opinion. Both last long. You get to enjoy that beautiful mid with the heavy base of a quite dry, sturdy sandalwood, warm amber, and a sprinkle of vanilla that prevents it from smelling like a brute. The sillage on this is amazing. Performance is well over 8+ hours on my skin. It really is just beautiful. As someone mentioned below about the old commercials of the 90s... "Egoiste! Egoiste! Egoiste!"

As I write this, I begin playing Brian Eno's Discreet Music, and I think of how many ways we can articulate our experience with any given fragrance. We can recall the note breakdown (and certainly I will mention what I smell in Égoïste and it will match a lot of that pyramid). Then we can state what smells in our life of which it reminds us: nature, food, places, people. We can expound upon how it makes us feel, the mood it evokes, the imagery it conjures in our mind. We can tell of how it transports us elsewhere, even to a place we may have never visited before, or even a place that doesn't exist. Going even further, shapes, colors, sounds—a synesthesia, can be expressed. Égoïste seems to be composed with space in mind. Space in between the wearer and the scent, the man and the myth, the dream and the waking life. It's clear that it has a cult following, given the many reviews dedicated to it. For some enthusiasts, becoming acquainted with it seems a rite of passage. Some even think that there are camps: those who love Egoiste, and those who don't know what's good for them. As prolific as I am in my writing, I often struggle to put down in words my authentic experience without falling into the typical tropes. But Égoïste, well, I just dispose of most conventions. I turn down the noise and listen to, and smell, the spaces in between the notes. The bottle in my possession (a 1997 vintage for those who must catechize) traces lines between what is rose and rosewood. It is an outline of Pruneaux d’Agen Fourrés, a whiff of a carnation boutonnière, a humidor's ghost. It's a recollection of my seven year old self examining my father's Gibson, poking my nose through the strings and into the sound hole, studying his various picks, their tortoise shell pattern. Égoïste smells the way tortoise shell looks, a mottled, warm-tones dreamy. But those picks are often made of celluloid, much like film, capturing snapshots, memories, vignettes. The ambrette is what stands out the most to my nose, nut and fruit, vegetal and buttery musk, harmonizing impeccably with the discreet music of the sandalwood. Fin.

I missed the train when this was originally released as Bois Noir in 1987. I would be interested to smell it sometime to see how different it is, if at all. I didn’t miss the train the second time, with my bottles made in 1992, two years after Bois Noir was rereleased as Egoiste. The first thing to pop into my head when I smell Egoiste is incense. But nope, it’s not. Give it a couple more minutes and several deep inhales. What you’ll find is an orchestra with the sections playing different notes and the wavelengths adding up to a single major chord. To me that chord rings very similarly to a complex myrrh-frankincense incense combo but Egoiste is so much more than that. Orchestral is about the best and only way I can describe Egoiste. Deep, juicy and oily orange rinds; coriander; rosewood and sandalwood; vanilla; cinnamon; roses and carnations; animalic musks. Every single one of these notes is seamlessly intertwined. Attracted to each other like iron filings to a magnet, to try to separate them would be fool’s task. It’s ineffable, one of very few perfumes that leave me speechless and at a loss for description. It’s funny to describe an overtly masculine-geared perfume as achingly beautiful, but it is. This might be the best perfume Jacques Polge made for Chanel (while I’m writing that statement I’m side-eyeing a few of his other perfumes that I love in my cabinet to make sure they don’t launch themselves at me in fury, especially the Sycomore EdT; angry goat, that one). I’ve worn Egoiste in the winter, I’ve worn it in the summer, I’ve worn it at the office, I’ve worn it at a night out, I’ve worn it at a funeral, and I’ve worn it at a wedding. It’s never been anything less than perfect. Some perfumes just mean a great deal to you, and sometimes you’re just unable to articulate what something means to you because it doesn’t go into your brain, it goes into your heart. Habit Rouge is another one of those for me. And just like HR, I can’t imagine ever being without Egoiste.