B-Boy by Alyssa Ashley

What would Alyssa Ashley be without that white musk! It’s not a criticism, it’s a fact: until I tried AMBRE GRIS, I couldn’t smell that note as a distinctive signature in any fragrance from the brand (and I own several). After all, there are houses that build their brand around a specific accord, like Guerlain’s ‘guerlinade’ or the licorice in Lolita Lempicka. But not everyone is drawn to that olfactory signature. I admit that white musk is hard for me to empathise with unless it’s well-blended and of high quality. Perhaps that’s why, even in fragrances I adore, such as the incense in OUD POUR LUI, the musky note turns me off. The one in Alyssa Ashley sounds so synthetic and artificial that it’s difficult to connect. Modern white musks are synthetic; the issue is the type used: there are high-quality ones (Chanel, Dior, Lutens) and there are lower-quality ones (Ashley, Rocher, Avon). I understand that price explains the difference. Alyssa Ashley has many followers; if you like their musk, you’ll be head over heels for the quality-to-price ratio. I believe the brand should continue to exist (without succumbing to Perris Monte Carlo), just as I adore Lapidus or Bogart, even though some dismiss them as cheap. The opening of B-Boy Hip Hop is very citrusy: bergamot, lemon, and orange. I like that initial moment, and I would still enjoy it if it stayed there. But after five minutes, the grating musk invades everything. The citrus notes don’t help; they intensify it, and the geranium makes it worse. My stomach does a little flip, and I have to move my nose away from my arm to recompose myself. If I bring it back, the rejection is instant. The woody, amber, and vanilla notes promised never arrive. The musk remains, and I can only wait hours for it to fade. I don’t wash my arm because it doesn’t reach such extreme levels. I understand why it has followers; it’s honest and affordable. The problem isn’t Alyssa Ashley, it’s my pituitary gland.

B-Boy is a fragrance with little evolution: it smells of vanilla almost from the start until the end, but along the way, captivating spiced and fresh tonalities emerge that make a clichéd scent something truly beautiful. The opening is a very fresh, youthful citrus vanilla; then it starts to sweeten without losing that freshness, with lovely nuances of cinnamon and amber. The dry-down is a residue of vanilla mixed with sweet tobacco over a bed of soft, creamy musky wood. It’s a vanilla fragrance that offers vanilla everywhere, but far from being the typical one-dimensional cloying vanilla, we find a fresh, lovely vanilla, in line with perfumes like ‘Ted Lapidus pour Lui’ or ‘Tasmeen’ and ‘Daarej’ by Rasasi. They don’t smell exactly the same, but they are vanilla executions very much in the same vein as this. A scent that pleasantly surprised me; I found it without looking for it and, given its low cost, I bought it without a second thought. Now I would like to get a larger bottle, because I have a feeling the entire line from this house smells like it’s about to be discontinued. It has moderate longevity, about six hours on the skin, with a projection that is a bit weak for an EDP, but it’s not bad at all considering its price. Its use is for warm spring-summer days and some mild autumn days. For those who enjoy vanilla like children, here is a recommended option.