REVIEW: 'Eau Sauvage' by Christian Dior

As a fey teenage boy in the early 80s, spritzing Drakkar Noir or Kouros with gay abandon, the notion of having to market a men’s fragrance as "wild" or “savage" water seemed somehow archaic and faintly ludicrous to me. Eau Sauvage was worn by elder brothers, uncles, friends’ fathers; those with less of an interest in Soft Cell 12 inches and the cheap cosmetics counter at Woolworth’s. It was something from another age when men had to be overly assured of their masculinity before they dared do something as dubious as wear a fragrance. As a New Romantic I eschewed it.

I first came across a bottle that I could properly try for myself when I moved into a friend’s London flat in the early 90s. This was the Summer pied-a-terre of a West Indian family, a place now used less frequently as old Mr Barnard had passed away. The bottle remained at the back of a bathroom cabinet and when I dared to retrieve it and take a spray, it really felt like reaching into the past. I suppose it was imbued with what I knew of its 60s heritage, the grandeur of the wonderful residence in which I was living and the stories of old Mr Barnard, sitting it the St Lucian sunshine, sipping single malt whisky rather than cheap rum, attended by maids and nurses whilst commanding his empire of hotels, distilleries and banana plantations.

At the time, I was unable to identify anything beyond the initial blast of rich lemon that faded into something poised, confident and, well, expensive smelling.

Now, thanks to a prize draw from the completely lovely Katie Puckrick’s fragrance blog, I have my own bottle. Now, I can appreciate how the ghost of the lemon top note remains and hovers at the edges of a wonderfully balanced herbal, mossy, lightly floral combination. I can see how well it would have worked for Mr Barnard, out in the tropical sunshine, first cooling and refreshing and then underlining his position at the head of a dynasty.

I still find the idea of “savage water” quite amusing, but now I understand how this thing works. It’s classically clever, handsomely confident and it really does provide the assurance of a fine life conducted with good taste. It’s a fragrance to aspire to.

          [by ANDREW]