Bogart

An energizing Aromatic Chypre Back in 2014, I was just getting serious in my journey into the fascinating world of perfumes when fate decided to stir the pot. I was strolling towards a store near home when my eyes landed on a tiny, overlooked pharmacy tucked beside it. That day, with the shop owner momentarily absent, I found myself wandering outside the store—and that’s when I noticed it: a perfume box boldly labeled “Bogart.” Intrigued, I stepped inside and enquired about it. The elderly gentleman at the counter admitted he wasn’t too familiar with the prices and promised to ask his son. Sensing a story waiting to unfold, I left with a spark of curiosity ignited. Determined to uncover more about this mysterious fragrance, I hurried home and scoured the web. Every review and description only deepened my desire to make it mine. Later that very evening, I returned to the store. Although the striking box had mysteriously vanished, the son was there — and he offered me a the bottle for just $6. With a quiet thrill, I paid, clutched the bottle like a treasure, and stepped back into the evening. I spritzed a little into the cap and took a deep, confirming breath. In that moment, I knew it was perfect. From the very first spray, Bogart makes an unforgettable entrance — a burst of bitter, green notes kick-started by the crisp zing of aldehydes. Imagine the lively interplay of galbanum, juniper, and a hint of lemon blossom dancing together, their brightness elevated by touches of lemon, orange, and mandarin. Just a few minutes in, a rich leather note—Iso Butyl Quinoline—begins to emerge, echoing the character of classics like Knize Ten and Chanel’s Cuir de Russie. This smoky, tarry, woody essence is beautifully intertwined with minty geranium, aromatic rosemary, and lavender, with a dash of spice added by cloves and nutmeg for that subtle dramatic flair. As the scent evolves, the initial burst of citrus gracefully gives way to a sophisticated, mossy base of oakmoss and treemoss, all supported by soft musks and cedarwood. Despite its complexity, Bogart carries an airy freshness — making it the perfect companion for those contemplative rainy days. Eventually, I exhausted that first magical bottle - and in 2024, I ordered a replacement online for around $18. Although the new batch doesn’t quite capture the full depth of the original, it faithfully echoes the signature profile—right down to listing oakmoss and treemoss among its allergens. For anyone drawn to aromatic, leather-y, mossy chypres with quiet sophistication and a hint of nostalgia, I wholeheartedly recommend giving Bogart a try. It’s an utterly engaging, and energizing, fragrance experience. 8.5/10

Well... Let me think how to say that politely, since I don't want to offend anyone. (with my words, not the perfume). So... I'm not a frag nerd, but I usually actively advocate for non-mainstream frags. Indeed, my gf often tells me that she doesn't like my perfumes. Whatever... People are right in saying that this is a snapshot of the 70s/80s... That said, like nowadays, in the 70s/80s some people had money to buy expensive frags from Dior-Chanel-Guerlain, and tasteless others bought the cheap crap. And I am pretty confident in saying that this frag was considered a cheapie (at least for its scent) since day 1 it was sold. A previous comment mentions that this frag could be worn by a CEO that kicks asses (or something like that). That's correct: the CEO that kicks asses because he has no management skills and starts to realize that his miserable 80's firm is sinking... The stinky CEO of a shitty small company in a shitty small city in the middle of nowhere, that thinks he smells good because everybody smiles when he passes by... Not because they like his smell, but because they are making fun of him. The kind of company no one wants to work for. Back to the Bogart: - oakmoss + geranium = great grandad smell (no... it's no niche....it's no vintage... in 2018 it's just ridiculous...) - it is a cheapie. yes . because it smells cheap. period. (since the 70s) - do I regret buying it? no, because it has an historical value, and despite it is the pure stereotype of fougere perfume, it just sucks and smell of Jewel-Osco (the bathroom, not the fruit department). And also because I now know that "80s powerhouse" describes a perfume of old man who doesn't know he's ridiculous. (trump probably wears that one, but definitely not J.Bezos or E.Musk) I own and love OMS Oud Edition, But here... it is... how to say...... simply a no. I guess most of the previous reviews have been done by men between 70 and 110 years old, and maybe this perfume reminds them their teenage. But me, I'm only 40 years old, and I am unable physically to pull that one off. For men 70+, fall/winter daytime (assuming they stay home) PS: sorry if I offended someone, but I had to be clear.

Okay, this one had me scratching my head. From the previous reviews I thought this was going to be a no-brainer, in a good way. So, based on those, I did a blind buy. When I tried the first few sprays on myself, I got nothing but unpleasant, almost acrid SOAP. Or, as a previous reviewer said, "headache-inducing". This led me to believe I had gotten a stale bottle (Check Fresh says 2012). I wasn't ready to give up on it yet, so I tried spraying it on an article of clothing. In this case, a shirt cuff. It's now a completely different bottle of cologne! I get the opening notes of rosemary and lemon, and yes, while there still is a soapy note, it isn't nearly as prominent, nor as long-lasting. The drydown takes a while and I'm left with a wonderful nutmeg/clove/moss/leather and slight birch finish. The birch would remind you of sipping a root beer. I think this clearly is a case of (my) body chemistry affecting a fragrance! And I had a similar experience with Quorum Silver regarding skin application v/s clothing. So...if you have encountered the same experience as I...don't give up yet. Try it on clothing...a shirt collar, cuff, even a T-shirt. When I did this, I was rewarded with a wonderful scent. I have elevated my opinion up to where I can truly say "I love this stuff!" UPDATE: I kept thinking my bottle was stale, so I ordered another one. It comes from a much more recent batch. It's great stuff! The soapiness I detected from my first bottle, well...that must have been the staleness creeping in. The opening from the new bottle is a very pleasant lemon blossom and rosemary. Very nice! The mid and base notes are much more prominent than in my old bottle, and the drydown is a MUCH more balanced and pleasant mossy/birch/leather. Two thumbs up!

It's as if Bogart was formulated specifically to adhere to each follicle of a hairy man's chest, destined to be aspirated intimately and admired via handshakes and pats on the back—for a job well done of course. It could be the smell of a young single electrician who was raised in a blue-collar Italian neighborhood or the earnest banker who has a loyal wife and two mouths to feed. Or it could be a man who cruised at the Trocadero Transfer in San Francisco or danced the night away at The Saint in New York. A double-breasted suit, casual leisurewear, or tight jeans and a white tee, Bogart is one of those macho "colognes" that is a shapeshifter that could easily mold itself onto every male phenotype. Redolent of that savory flavor of masculinity of its zeitgeist, it is dry and herbal, rosemary and pine resin melding with spiced florals, rendered assertive and standing erect. It cannot be pinned as merely a soapy fougere, green chypre, or parched leather—it's all of the above, compact, concise, fortified and effective. It's does the job, and brilliantly so, in the thick of it, stout in body, firm in handshake. Groped by geranium, caressed by a lather, dried clean on the mosses, Bogart was released at a time when a scent for a man would suggest virility at the discretion of its wearer, just before such declarations were resonant and inescapable. It represents the crossroads between Aramis and Kouros, and is one helluva good smelling artifact of its era.

Nostalgia sells. And it's never been more true in 2023. Vinyls are making a comeback. Bold 80's inspired fashion is cool again. 80's synthpop is topping charts when it does come out. All the cheese of that era is suddenly being acknowledged for what it was - bold, confident, self assured. It is in this context that I find more of us slowly but surely going back to what is now referred to as the "powerhouse" men's fragrance of then. Loewe's Esencia Pour Homme, Paco Rabanne Pour Homme, Polo Green, Kouros et al. In a sea of waxed pretty boy bodies, a hirsute Tom Selleck is cool again. Its become cool enough that Zara recently came out with Leather Jardin, which is a masterful nod to this style of perfume. That's what this fragrance is - nothing less. As indicated in several reviews below the opening is a punch to the gut. And while initially I was ambivalent about it, I now love it. As it softens up, it becomes more mature and classy - not a modern classy but a piped tobacco grandad classy. It feels like someone who first roughs you up and then offers you a drink. One of my favorites to wear at home along with Esencia Pour Homme, the aforementioned Leather Jardin and D&G Pour Homme. Transportive 9/10 only if it hits your nostalgia buttons