Tobacco

Triumph of Bacchus opens with a heady pour of dark rum sharpened by saffron's metallic warmth, immediately louche and inviting.

**Ambre Narguilé** opens with the warmth of a hookah lounge rendered in perfume—honeyed tobacco smoke softened by rum and cinnamon, all wrapped in creamy vanilla.

Cardamom and ginger announce themselves immediately, a warm spice introduction tempered by bright bergamot.

The opening strikes with a heated rush of black pepper and ginger, sharpened by cinnamon's dry heat, while tobacco weaves through like smoke from a half-forgotten fire.

Moonlight by Pana Dora opens with plum — stone-fruit sweet, with a slight tartness that keeps the opening from becoming cloying.

Bohemian Forage 1994 opens with the bruised sweetness of fig leaves crushed underfoot, their milky sap mingling with damp moss and rain-softened earth.

Factory, Beijing opens with a jolt of metallic saffron sharpened by grapefruit's tart edge—less citrus sparkle than industrial steam cutting through morning smog.

The opening volley is all heat and brightness—saffron flares up metallic and slightly bitter, while grapefruit cuts through with tart citrus that feels more utility than luxury.

Aurélien Guichard frames church incense in an entirely secular context: a single note of coffee rises from the opening — darkly bitter, warm, and roasted — before giving way to incense and Madagascar vanilla at the heart, the smoke and sweetness coiling around each other without resolution.

The opening lands quietly—green violet leaf and bergamot create a soft, slightly metallic haze rather than brightness.

London for Men opens with a brisk lavender-bergamot accord sharpened by black pepper, like stepping into a well-tailored shop on a cold morning.

Valentino Uomo opens with a brief citrus clarity before the coffee note arrives, not as espresso intensity but as a soft, almost milky warmth.

The opening is immediate and strange: tobacco leaf soaked in tuberose's creamy sweetness, both fighting for control.

Decas opens with tuberose rendered in an unexpected register—neither creamy nor indolic, but slightly dry and dusted with tobacco leaf.

The One for Men opens with a bright contradiction: grapefruit's acidity cut with basil's green, almost savory edge.

Dolce & Gabbana Pour Homme 2012 occupies a well-worn formal register with quiet confidence.

Polo opens with the canonical chypre-fougère masculinity of 1970s America — tarragon and basil share the top notes alongside bergamot in a distinctly herbal-aromatic opening that reads classic without being dated.

Silky Woods is the headline fragrance of Goldfield & Banks' commitment to Australian botanicals — specifically agarwood sourced from Queensland, which the house claims is the first such use in commercial perfumery.

Bourbon Patchouli opens with a jolt of bitter orange peel and green jasmine that quickly gives way to something darker and more complex.

This 1994 Eau de Toilette opens with yuzu — bright, citric, and slightly green — before cinnamon and nutmeg arrive in the heart, lending warmth and a dry spiciness that angles away from fruit toward something more contemplative.

Black Code opens with a bright citrus burst—lemon and bergamot—that quickly gives way to its true character.

Boss Number One is an artifact of 1985, and it wears its era without apology.

The opening is a bright citrus flourish — bergamot, lemon, and orange in confident, sunlit combination, pineapple arriving in the heart to give the fruit register a tropical underpinning before jasmine pulls the composition toward something more formal.

Tabac Original opens with a sharp, citrus-forward blast—bright lemon and bergamot with petitgrain's woody-green terpene bite and neroli's solar white-flower edge.

The opening arrives with a brisk, herbal brightness—tarragon and clary sage give it an almost medicinal clarity, while citrus keeps things from turning austere.

Narmar opens with a crisp herbaceous clarity—lavender and clary sage brushed with cardamom's resinous warmth and bergamot's citric brightness.

**Clipping** opens with a brisk citrus-mint snap softened by ginger's warmth, like stepping into a barber shop on a bright morning.

Le Male Elixir arrives with a rush of mint and lavender that feels both fresh and unexpectedly dense—herbal coolness sweetened almost immediately by benzoin and vanilla.

Enigma Pour Homme opens with clarity and intent: black pepper and bergamot establishing a warm-spiced brightness, neroli adding a hint of orange blossom before the heart takes over.

The opening unfolds with bright bergamot tempered immediately by resinous incense, a combination that feels less citrus-forward than contemplative.

The opening is immediate and loud: black pepper crackles through thick cinnamon and a sweetened tobacco accord that registers almost as burned caramel.

The opening flares bright and resinous—cardamom's green spice tempered by bergamot's citric clarity, creating an immediate warmth that feels lived-in rather than sharp.

The opening is bright but immediately sweetened—citrus and lavender arrive with a dusting of honey, skipping past cologne freshness into something more confectionary.

The opening bursts with fresh lavender and bergamot, quickly tempered by nutmeg's warm rasp—a masculine take on Italian sharpness rather than fougère softness.

By Dolce&Gabbana opens with a soapy lavender clarity that nods to classic Italian barbershops, though the lily of the valley quickly softens its edges.

The One for Men Eau de Parfum is the EDP reformulation of a 2008 eau de toilette, and it trades some of the original's airy citrus for a heavier, sweeter spice cabinet.

The One for Men Eau de Parfum opens with a sharp citrus clarity—grapefruit lifted by aromatic basil—that quickly gives way to a spiced heart.

The opening is immediate and sharp—cardamom gives an almost medicinal brightness, tempered by bergamot and the cool, herbaceous bitterness of clary sage.

A-Men Pure Havane opens with an immediate tobacco presence—not the bright, leafy kind, but something denser and almost chewy, as if the leaves were steeped in molasses and left to darken.

Hérod opens with a thick, resinous cinnamon that feels closer to temple smoke than spice rack—sweet but not gourmand, dense without being cloying.

A-Men Pure Malt opens with a brief citrus flash before plunging into its real character: a bourbon-barrel warmth built on coffee and cedar.

**Bvlgari Man Black Orient** opens with a jolt of dark rum splashed over freshly cracked cardamom, an intentionally boozy introduction that smells more like a gentleman's smoking jacket than a standard oriental fragrance.

Guerlain Vétiver is one of those fragrances that has been in continuous production since Eisenhower's second term, and it smells exactly as authoritative as that suggests.

Mystery Tobacco opens with osmanthus — an unusual choice to lead, bringing peach-apricot softness with a slightly leathery undertone that bridges directly into the tobacco heart.

A dark, almost brooding tobacco fragrance that opens with an unexpected brightness—black currant and clary sage cutting through before the composition settles into its true character.

Oajan opens with a rush of cinnamon-dusted honey that borders on gourmand territory but never quite settles there.

The opening rushes in with a sharp, almost medicinal lavender cut through by ginger's bite and cardamom's resinous warmth.

The rum-soaked tobacco leaf arrives first, sweetened by honey and warmed by cinnamon—less a smoky nargilé than its amber-drenched dream.

**Baraonda** opens with whiskey-soaked wood that feels more like a spill than a spritz—raw oak, amber resin, and something faintly medicinal colliding in a hot, boozy haze.

The opening bursts with rosemary's bracing greenness, cut by a warm almond sweetness and a brief citrus flash.

Triumph of Bacchus opens with a heady rush of boozy rum laced with saffron's leathery warmth, immediately evoking the hedonistic abandon of its namesake.

Coffee opens Attitude alone — dry, slightly bitter, not sweet — before lavender and cardamom establish the heart's aromatic-spice register.

The opening arrives cool and almost medicinal—peppermint and bergamot flash bright before fig leaf adds a bitter green snap.

The first spray announces itself with cardamom and cinnamon that feel less festive than they do darkly aromatic, setting a tone that's warm but far from sweet.

The Blazing Mr Sam opens with a rush of warm spice—cinnamon and cardamom landing with immediate heat, sweet and penetrating.

The opening announces itself with a sharp gust of cinnamon—not the soft, baked-good kind, but a drier, almost medicinal spice that clears the air around you.

The first spray releases a roasted almond sweetness tempered by pink pepper's light bite, warmer and more gourmand than the earlier Idéal flankers.

L'Homme Idéal Extrême opens with a jolt of almond and pink pepper—sweetened, spiced, almost gourmand but held back by bergamot's citrus edge.

Oud Malaki opens with a surprisingly bright contrast—lavender's herbal clarity set against the tart snap of grapefruit.

Majd Al Sultan announces itself with smoke and tobacco before the composition opens into its true subject: a dense, resinous incense accord built from myrrh and saffron.

Side Effect opens with a bracing rush of rum and tobacco absolute, dense and almost syrupy in its sweetness.

C for Men opens with a saffron-dominated citrus — warm, slightly metallic, with lemon providing brightness and thyme adding an herbal edge that gives the opening a certain seriousness.

Furyo from Jacques Bogart is 1988 masculinity at its most unapologetic: fig leaf and lavender over a dense core of tobacco, vetiver, and castoreum, with civet threading through the entire development.

Nutmeg opens alone — brief, warm, slightly medicinal.

The first impression is an unexpectedly dry wave of tobacco leaves, the kind stacked in dark wooden drawers rather than smoldering in ashtrays.

Roaring Radcliff opens with a boozy jolt—rum and tarragon create an herbal-sweet haze lifted by bergamot's brightness.

Penhaligon's Roaring Radcliff opens with an unusual trio: tarragon's sharp, anise-herbal bite against the boozy sweetness of rum and the brightness of bergamot.

Bvlgari Man in Black opens with the dark sweetness of rum laced through tobacco leaf—not cigarette smoke, but the plant itself, green-edged and resinous.

The opening announces itself with cracked black pepper and a whisper of violet leaf—cool and slightly metallic—before the leather arrives.

Infrared pushes the original Spicebomb into warmer, more syrupy territory.

**Tabac Rouge** arrives with a plush, honeyed sweetness that immediately sets it apart from orthodox tobacco scents.

The opening bursts with tart apple and citrus brightness, then quickly shifts into something darker and more austere.

The opening flash of lemon and bergamot gives way almost immediately to a classical fougère structure built on lavender and oakmoss, but with an Italian sensibility that prefers aromatic clarity over dense abstraction.

Cardamom opens with a spice note that reads closer to warm chai than to anything medicinal — green-sweet, slightly smoky, priming you for what follows.

Cardamom opens with a spice note that reads closer to warm chai than to anything medicinal — green-sweet, slightly smoky, priming you for what follows.

Spicebomb announces itself with a sharp burst of pink pepper that feels almost combustive, quickly tempered by citrus that keeps the opening from tipping into aggression.

Spicebomb opens with a sharp pink pepper bite softened by citrus, more grenade than gentle introduction.

Mona Di Orio's Vanille is not a gourmand — it's what vanilla is before it gets sweet.

Burlington 1819 opens with a sharp, almost medicinal mint that cuts through citrus brightness—lime and grapefruit provide acidity rather than sweetness.

The opening is all smoke and tanned hide—a dry, almost acrid leather that conjures cigarette cases and Art Deco salons.

The first spray floods the senses with a medicinal rush of mint and tarragon, green and nearly antiseptic, like stepping into a herbalist's garden at dawn.

Bois Doré opens with a single note of black pepper — sharp, direct, a declaration rather than a suggestion — before the heart introduces almond and vanilla in a combination that is unexpectedly warm and slightly confectionery.

Bois Doré opens with a single note of black pepper — sharp, direct, a declaration rather than a suggestion — before the heart introduces almond and vanilla in a combination that is unexpectedly warm and slightly confectionery.

L'Intense opens with a specific combination — almond and cardamom together — that reads as spiced confectionery but not frivolously so.

L'Intense opens with a specific combination — almond and cardamom together — that reads as spiced confectionery but not frivolously so.

Magenta-Tanzanite opens with a brisk bite of ginger and cardamom against bergamot's citrus haze, the spice already hinting at warmth to come.

Asad opens with an unexpected brightness—sweet pineapple sharpened by black pepper, then almost immediately tempered by a dry tobacco leaf that pulls the whole accord into shadow.

The opening announces itself with an unexpected jolt—sharp cinnamon clashing against lavender's aromatic coolness, the lemon barely tempering the heat.

The opening arrives with a brisk, spiced heat—ginger and black pepper crackling over cinnamon bark.

The opening is direct: honeyed tobacco leaf, lightly sweetened and bordered by a resinous warmth that feels almost balsamic.

The plum note arrives unexpectedly sweet against the tobacco leaf, an almost jammy ripeness tempered by sharp ginger heat.

Versace Man opens with neroli and bergamot — a refined citrus-floral opening, the neroli adding a faintly soapy, orange-blossom quality that keeps things accessible before the composition develops.

The opening arrives with a liturgical gravity—frankincense and cardamom rising through basil's green sharpness, bergamot lending just enough lift to keep the resinous weight from settling too quickly.

The One for Men opens with a sharp citrus clarity—grapefruit bright and slightly bitter, tempered by an aromatic thread of basil that keeps the introduction from feeling too clean.

The opening slap of grapefruit and basil feels like stepping into a sunlit Mediterranean courtyard—brisk and green, with a faint herbal bite that vanishes quickly.

Ambre Russe is organized around birch — specifically birch tar, the dark, medicinal, smoke-adjacent note that defines traditional Russian leather and gives Russian imperial scent culture its particular character.

Ambre Russe is organized around birch — specifically birch tar, the dark, medicinal, smoke-adjacent note that defines traditional Russian leather and gives Russian imperial scent culture its particular character.

Herrera for Men opens in the established aromatic-fougère tradition — lavender and rosemary making up the aromatic backbone, lemon adding citrus brightness, neroli lending a slightly feminine orange-blossom character that distinguishes it from more straightforwardly masculine compositions.

Cuir de Russie opens with a flash of bergamot and clary sage that quickly gives way to its true character: birch tar leather, austere and nearly medicinal in its severity.

Tobacco & Tonka Bean opens with a rush of sweet pear that feels more candied than fresh, quickly folding into a soft coconut cream that reads almost edible.

Coffee Addict opens with a sharp jolt of espresso—roasted, almost burnt, with none of the sweetness you'd find in café gourmands.

Tobacco-Touch opens with a direct, honest shot of tobacco leaf—earthy and slightly sweet, closer to dried leaf than smoked cigar.

The opening delivers a sharp burst of pink pepper tinged with grapefruit brightness—vivid without being sweet, more metallic than citrus-forward.

Chergui opens with a warm gust of hay and honey, undercut by the medicinal sharpness of tobacco leaf.

A tarragon-laced citrus opening announces itself with herbal sharpness before lavender and neroli soften the edges.

The opening erupts with Mediterranean brightness—citrus oils sharpened by tarragon's anise-green bite and lavender's aromatic coolness.

Opening with a sharp pineapple brightness softened by tonka's warm sweetness, 1270 immediately establishes itself as something unusual—tropical fruit meeting patisserie counter rather than cologne territory.

The opening is a brief flash of brightness—neroli and bergamot lifted by cardamom's green spice—before the scent turns inward.

Jolie Madame opens with a bite of green petitgrain and neroli that barely softens the flowers to come.

Tabacco Toscano opens with a brief citrus flash before plunging into its main theme: the scent of a traditional Tuscan cigar workshop.

The rum opening is less boozy splash and more caramelized warmth, thick and rounded rather than sharp.

Tom Ford's Tobacco Vanille opens with a plush, almost edible sweetness—imagine pipe tobacco dusted with vanilla powder and dried fruit, rich without being syrupy.

Greenley opens with a bright citrus bite—mandarin and bergamot cut with an unexpected edge of rum that lends warmth without sweetness.

The opening is blunt and unapologetic: cumin lands with an earthy, almost savory intensity that immediately polarizes.

The opening arrives ceremonial and resinous, frankincense billowing through citrus brightness like church smoke caught in morning light.

A dark, incense-driven leather that announces itself with ceremonial smoke and bright bergamot, like stepping into a cathedral that doubles as a speakeasy.

Cuir Impertinent is Jean-Christophe Hérault's study in paradox: leather, which is warm and animalic by nature, read through star anise — an ingredient that introduces a genuinely icy, crystalline quality that transforms everything it touches.

Infinity opens as Montale usually does — without apologies.

The opening of Terroni is a jolt—tart raspberry cutting through smoke like a streak of fruit acid on charred wood.

Enigma Pour Homme Parfum Cologne opens with bergamot that's barely there before the heart takes over: neroli and jasmine arrive simultaneously, joined by heliotrope's powdery, almost almond-like sweetness.