Homme Dior

Bergamot hits with insistent citrus brightness, immediately undercut by the resiny amber of elemi and the aggressive snap of pink pepper—a trio that creates an almost confrontational freshness, drying and green rather than cheerful. Within two minutes, the composition feels flinty, almost caustic, like walking into a cologne counter during a chemical storm.

As the top notes surrender, the cedar and patchouli establish themselves with quiet authority, creating a woody skeleton that's remarkably linear and composed. The patchouli remains stubbornly dry and herbaceous rather than earthy, whilst the cedar provides a cool, almost pencil-shaving quality that prevents the composition from becoming warm or comforting. The synthetic accords now become apparent, lending an almost transparent, glassy quality to the woody notes.

Haitian vetiver emerges as a slightly smoky, mineral anchor, whilst the musk remains deliberately muted and non-animalic, functioning as a soft blur rather than a presence. The fragrance becomes progressively fainter, settling into an almost skin-scent territory—a whisper of dry wood and herbs that lingers more as an impression than a discernible fragrance.