Whenever I hear or read the word “fougère” I don’t think of ferns, I think of Houbigant Fougère Royale (1882) — which shows how perfume obsessed I am. Years ago, I got my hands on several old bottles of Fougère Royale (1950s version) and enjoyed every drop of that crisp, sprightly fragrance; I’ve never found a replacement for it, so I was thrilled when I heard Houbigant was reissuing Fougère Royale this year.

Fougère Royale was the first fougère perfume, and was composed using natural bergamot, lavender, clary sage, geranium, heliotrope, rose, orchid, carnation, oakmoss, musk, vanilla, and synthetic coumarin (synthesized in the laboratory from salicylic acid). Fougère Royale’s use of a synthetic note gave it the distinction of being the first “modern” fragrance. Fougère Royale translated the “idea” of ferns into scent; it did not try to duplicate an existing smell — it created a new smell. Fougère Royale’s creator, perfumer Paul Parquet, said: If God gave ferns a scent, they would smell like Fougère Royale.¹

Before I go further, let me state the obvious: there’s no one alive today who smelled original, 1882 Fougère Royale...

The first fougère perfume was 1882’s Houbigant Fougère Royale — just reissued.* Fougère (fern) fragrances make up a huge proportion of men’s fragrances, but fougère colognes are not well represented in my perfume collection. For a long time, I’ve smelled fougère perfumes, searching for one that I can love and that doesn’t make me smell like a fuddy-duddy.

Fougères come in a variety of formulations: Hermès Brin de Réglisse, Diesel Fuel for Life, Yves Saint Laurent Kouros, Brut, Jean Paul Gaultier Fleur du Mâle — fougères all! Recently, the fougère genre has revived after years of dormancy. Two new fougère entries are Amouage Memoir Man (a demi-fougère that turns quickly into an incense fragrance) and Penhaligon’s dowdy Sartorial (loved by many, but not by me). To find a fougère I could enjoy wearing, I went back in time to the “archives.”

Yves Saint Laurent Rive Gauche pour Homme (2003), developed by perfumer Jacques Cavallier, includes notes of bergamot, rosemary, star anise, lavender, geranium, clove, coumarin, patchouli, oak moss, guaiac wood, and vetiver. Rive Gauche pour Homme starts off with bergamot and anise (that go from “crisp/tart” to “creamy” in seconds) followed by a rosemary-lavender-geranium progression that quivers between green/herbal rosemary-lavender leaves, and furry, aromatic geranium leaf. A mild sweetness emerges in the shift from top and middle notes...

Penhaligon’s Sartorial is meant to conjure the scents of a tailor’s shop: Norton & Sons, Bespoke Tailors at No. 16 Savile Row; but I don’t get the vibe of a high-end tailor’s shop when I smell Sartorial — no scents of old wooden cabinets and floors or “motorized-metallic” aromas of hot, well-oiled sewing machines, no odors of new woolens and cottons. What I DO get when smelling Sartorial is the scent of men…not the natural body scent of men, but the scent of lots of ‘men of a certain age’ gathered in one place, all of them wearing old-fashioned, inexpensive (but not “cheap”) aftershave lotion on their faces.

Sartorial opens with a sparkling aldehydic and “wet” ozone accord. This “department store” fragrance accord leads quickly to familiar territory: metallic violet leaf that smells a tad ‘old fashioned’ and sedate. Perhaps it’s the ‘sedate’ part of Sartorial that gives me pause; every time I wear it I feel sad; my bad mood is no doubt due to some association I have with the overall smell of the composition...

Some men smell vaguely musty. You walk into their houses or sit next to them on the bus and you know what their laundry baskets smell like. (My theory, based on many years of membership at a food co-op, is that many of the musty men are vegans.) Some men smell intensely personal, like you're smelling their raw flesh. Smelling this kind of man makes me uncomfortable. It's too intimate. Other men have a natural tantalizing fragrance that is gently spicy and musky. A whiff of this scent is more intoxicating than a cocktail. To me, Parfums MDCI Invasion Barbare smells like that type of man after he's showered with lavender and bergamot soap.

You might see MDCI and try to translate it from Roman numerals. In fact, it stands for Marchal Design & Créations Indépendantes, after Claude Marchal, Parfums MDCI's founder...

Rarely do “simple” fragrances (scents with few ingredients or little development) hold my attention or gain my affection. I prefer perfumes that change their expression several times a day — perfumes that make a journey. The uncomplicated scents I do wear tend to be classic compositions made with rich ingredients (woods/resins, spices, incense or leather notes). I own several fragrances whose development is minimal: Christian Lacroix’ Tumulte (pour homme), Maître Parfumeur et Gantier’s Parfum d’Habit and Hermès Bel Ami. These warm scents begin with a glint, a spark, and settle almost immediately into a long-lasting glow — Narciso Rodriguez’ For Him is such a scent.

For Him is fashion designer Narciso Rodriguez’ debut men’s fragrance. "This fragrance is the first extension of my men's wear collection," Rodriguez told Women's Wear Daily (May 18, 2007). "It is an important component of the total image, an expression of the man. For Him enhances the existing foundation of my vision for men's wear and is the first of many categories to come." For Him was created by perfumer Francis Kurkdjian and is composed of violet leaf, patchouli, amber and musk. According to Parfums Narciso Rodriguez Vice President, Nathalie Helloin-Kamel (also quoted in WWD), For Him’s inspiration came from an earlier era of men’s perfumery: “The benchmark was the great fougères of the Eighties."

The fougère (fern) category of men’s fragrances is large...