Clubman Special Reserve has been on my shelf for a while, but it wasn't my favorite Pinaud offering. I thought that it was almost great. I liked the leathery scent--not smoky, oily, soapy or sweet. Like military harness from another era, or a leather-bound volume. But it had something else going on in it too--like someone had put a shot from the Vegetal tank in there. In Lilac Vegetal--which I love--the sweetness of the lilac takes the edge off the dark organic scent (OK, OK--YMMV). But with Special Reserve, there was nothing to do that. After using it for a while, I began to think that the "pot liquor" undertone made the whole thing a little unpleasant. I got rid of what was left in the bottle.
Today, I was down at my friendly neighborhood Clubman store, picking up a bottle of Osage Rub and some Eau de Quinine. Something about the Clubman Special Reserve on the shelf looked different to me. I picked up the bottle and held it up to the light--the juice is a different color. My old Special Reserve was dark brown--like strong tea. Now its green. Not bright green like ocha, but a little muddled. I couldn't resist.
Gentlemen, the wizards at Pinaud have outdone themselves. This is an amazing fragrance. Everything that was good about the old Special Reserve remains--leather, a touch of vanilla, perhaps a hint of spice. The murky vegetal scent has been toned down to the point that it is almost--almost, but not quite--gone. It's strong, a fragrance to be used wisely. And it's very, very good.
Have you ever read Pérez-Reverte's Captain Alatriste? Imagine that it's an autumn day in 1635. You're a soldier, long in service, just returned to Madrid. You sit down at a small table in a familiar tavern. You brush off the dust of the road, toss your cloak across the chair next to you, your gloves and hat on top of them. You stretch your legs out in front of you, feel the warm afternoon sun on your face. The wine is strong and fragrant, your well cared-for sword is close at hand. You see an old friend approaching from across the square. It's good to be alive.
That, my friends, is Clubman Special Reserve.
Today, I was down at my friendly neighborhood Clubman store, picking up a bottle of Osage Rub and some Eau de Quinine. Something about the Clubman Special Reserve on the shelf looked different to me. I picked up the bottle and held it up to the light--the juice is a different color. My old Special Reserve was dark brown--like strong tea. Now its green. Not bright green like ocha, but a little muddled. I couldn't resist.
Gentlemen, the wizards at Pinaud have outdone themselves. This is an amazing fragrance. Everything that was good about the old Special Reserve remains--leather, a touch of vanilla, perhaps a hint of spice. The murky vegetal scent has been toned down to the point that it is almost--almost, but not quite--gone. It's strong, a fragrance to be used wisely. And it's very, very good.
Have you ever read Pérez-Reverte's Captain Alatriste? Imagine that it's an autumn day in 1635. You're a soldier, long in service, just returned to Madrid. You sit down at a small table in a familiar tavern. You brush off the dust of the road, toss your cloak across the chair next to you, your gloves and hat on top of them. You stretch your legs out in front of you, feel the warm afternoon sun on your face. The wine is strong and fragrant, your well cared-for sword is close at hand. You see an old friend approaching from across the square. It's good to be alive.
That, my friends, is Clubman Special Reserve.
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