Comme des Garçons
A unique visual signature based on accords, character, and seasonality
The frankincense and pepper hit with an almost medicinal intensity, sharp and penetrating, before Cashmeran's distinctive powdery-wood smell muscles everything else aside. There's bergamot listed, but it's barely perceptible—this opening is all about texture rather than brightness, with the nutmeg adding a faintly dusty spice that reinforces the synthetic woods' angularity.
The gaiac and cedarwood emerge with their smoky, pencil-shavings character, whilst that caraway note introduces an oddly savoury warmth that makes the composition feel inhabited rather than simply woody. Christalon's clean, almost soapy quality becomes more apparent, creating a tension between the resinous smokiness and an unexpected freshness that keeps the blend from feeling too heavy or incense-laden.
What remains is a close-to-skin haze of Javanol and vetiver, with the oud finally making itself known as a leathery whisper rather than a shout. The synthetic woods have coalesced into something more unified, though still pleasantly strange—warm but not sweet, woody but not creamy, with that persistent Cashmeran fuzziness lingering like static.
Wonderwood is Antoine Lie's exercise in synthetic forestry—a deliberately constructed wood pile that smells more like the concept of "woody" than any actual tree. The opening blast of Madagascan pepper and frankincense creates an almost astringent sharpness that immediately gives way to Cashmeran's powdery, angular woodiness, a molecule that dominates the composition with its fuzzy, almost pixelated texture. This isn't the smooth, creamy sandalwood of traditional woody fragrances; it's fractured and faceted, with gaiac's smoky resinousness and the metallic hum of Javanol (a synthetic sandalwood molecule) creating a deliberately uncanny effect. The caraway adds a faintly savoury, almost cumin-like warmth that prevents the woods from feeling too polite.
What makes Wonderwood compelling is its refusal to play natural. Where most woody fragrances attempt verisimilitude, this revels in its synthetic origins—Christalon lends a detergent-clean quality that shouldn't work but somehow anchors the wilder elements. The oud here is barely recognisable as such, folded into the cedary-vetiver base as textural interest rather than a starring role. It's a fragrance for those who appreciate perfumery as construction rather than imitation, who find beauty in the angular and unnatural. The person wearing this likely owns more black clothing than is strictly necessary, has strong opinions about mid-century furniture, and considers "wearable" a pejorative. It's best in cooler weather when its smoky, resinous character can properly bloom against skin, though its dry restraint means it never overwhelms.
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3.8/5 (123)