Baime

At a first test you could get to the conclusion that Baime is simply a great basil based fragrance, and for some aspects it surely is, but if you try to go a little deeper you'll realize there's a lot more going on here. Basil is definitely dominating but it's magistrally blended with other aromatics herbs, lavender and anise. I also get hints of fruits but can't exactly detect them as they're skillfully camouflaged to simply add a slight "extra-touch" of fresh oddness. The overall effect is of a pleasant, and addictive, super green scent that is bold in structure but thin and delightfully bizzare in smell. I'd say Baime has a lot in common with Dyptique's Virgilio because despite they don't share many objective similiarities they surely move in the same territory made of a pushed to the limit green freshness. A territory where culinary aromatics herbs are used to create a bizarre clean fragrance and not to dress up your salad. Rating: 7/10

If you have a distaste for kitchen herbs and spices in perfume, please move on. If you are like me and love to lavish in them, then Baime would be utterly satisfying. Unfortunately, it seems it has become a leafy-green dodo, so it really depends if your yen comes in the form of a big, bursting basil aromatic scent. Crisp as watercress, Baime feels like an herbal elixir one would imbibe as alternative medicine for vim and vigor, it's a rustic green for overalls and Carhartts and getting one's hands in the dirt. I almost hear the old theme song for the PBS program Victory Garden played with a hammered dulcimer. It speaks to the budding gardener in me, keeping the unruly mints in check, gathering the lavender to use in some lemonade, chewing on sprigs of thyme, watching monarchs land on milkweed. Baime also has this astringent caraway in its dry down. Caraway and cumin are not interchangeable as many think, they are two discrete botanical species in the Apiaceae family. Caraway doesn't necessarily smell as much of human perspiration and its resulting odor in any way; it shares a warmth but is more spicy, woody, fruity, somewhat pungent, reminiscent of rye bread, but not necessarily yeasty or doughy (caraway is often used to flavor rye). This caraway combined with a vetiver, impart a soothing, earthy texture to Baime's dry down. One could argue that its reminiscent of more refined and full-bodied Agua Brava or Pino Sylvestre without the conifers, or a truncated fougere (as suggested by reviewer shamus1), as it has no oakmoss or coumarin. Perfumer Jean-Francois Laporte (RIP) had a talent for bringing out qualities in aromatics that other perfumers may have been too shy to endeavor. Much like another favorite perfumer, Lorenzo Villoresi, he wasn't afraid to reveal a bit of gritty realism to his compositions, which, while surely an acquired taste, speaks a language for which a "naturalist" type like myself is fluent and feels comfortable.

Alas, this is beautifully put together, but it just isn't for me. Some things that are well-done that I wouldn't have thought I would like - like Britney Spears' Toxic - surprise me. Sadly, Baime falls into the category of things that I can and do admire without liking them. (Viz. Glinka, American Football, Tarkovsky, etc.) The caraway and basil dominate here, along with the lavender and sandalwood, making it smell like a very expensive and gorgeously worked-out cheap fougere. Mind you, the astringency of the caraway is very classy. But still, overall, a very classy snooze.