Declaration d’Un Soir Intense by Cartier

It is a more potent version of the original d’Un Soir, but with plenty of pink pepper and sandalwood that make it less enjoyable. It has incredible sillage and longevity, but the scent isn’t worth it. It is refined and elegant, yet Declaration d’un Soir is far more so and better crafted.

After the original put me in a state of ecstasy, I tried the Intensive with high expectations. For me, it is very different: drier, finer, and more elegant. You can smell the rose DNA, but the direction changes. The top is potent, with an imprecise fruity touch of fig and plum, very oriental and compact, but with less freshness. Longevity and projection are good, but it is not a truly potent version. You can buy both, although the original seemed more seductive and superior to me.

Brutal fixations and potency. You are looking for quality and a real aroma. The velvety, masculine red rose is the protagonist all day, flirting with sandalwood and rich spices. Imagine it like this: a pot with red rose petals, bulk tea, sandalwood sticks, and a good stir.

Excellent. One of the best from current designer brands with a rare originality stamp. It makes perfect sense to be a flanker: it takes the spices from the original to be recognisable, but creates something new with the rose, something that is not usually considered feminine in our culture. It plays with a duality that I appreciate: it has body and imprint, yet shows itself fresh throughout its development. The spices in the original were dirtier, which did not fit the Parisian idea of a love declaration; here they keep a tiny bit of that without declaring cumin or cardamomo, but they are fresher than dirty. It does not matter if it does not faithfully reflect the inspiration if I like it. That lesser dirtiness fits the idea of love better, keeping only a little of that ‘dirty’ vibe we know it puts there. The wood and musk give it support and good longevity, and I appreciate that the musk does not take the lead as it dries, avoiding that cloud of dust or soap sometimes found in other Cartier perfumes. This is it.

Excellent. One of the best current designers with an original signature that is hard to miss. It is a flanker that makes perfect sense: it takes the spices from the regular Declaration to remain recognisable, yet creates something new with the rose, which in our culture is not inherently feminine. It plays with a duality I enjoy: it has body and presence, yet remains fresh throughout its development. While the spices in the original were dirtier (and didn’t fit that Parisian love declaration idea), here they retain a tiny hint of that without declaring cumin or cardamomo, but it definitely smells fresher rather than dirty. I don’t mind if it doesn’t faithfully reflect the inspiration if I like it, as that is ultimately what matters. This reduced dirtiness fits the love declaration concept better, maintaining that dirty vibe we know it puts across, hehe. The wood and musk provide support and very good longevity. I appreciate that the musk doesn’t take over as it dries down, as it does in other perfumes (not far from Envol by Cartier), undermining the earlier development for those who see a cloud of dust or soap instead of sensuality. This time, yes.

I like it, I am not sure if I would buy it, but it gives me a twinge of curiosity. I am intrigued by how the notes are blended; at first, I smell sweet fig leaf, even aniseed mimosa. I imagine that the nutmeg and sandalwood recreate that illusion I like. I sense a little cardamomo that turns into a delicate floral polynic tinkling with nuances of sweet cedar. It amuses me: it is woody and soft, with a natural sweetness that makes me think of woods, pistils, bees, and a micro-world of winged insects focused on HD, a spring world, real and natural. The rose, which I would kill for if I only felt it at the end, probably helps the middle phase acquire a cloudy, greyish tone, with aftertastes of coloured wax, plasticine, or pencil shavings that I love. The same happens with Lancome’s Aroma Calm: the rose is not felt alone; it reinforces other ingredients until they become cloudy and leaden. Absolutely unisex, it has something that reminds you of early 21st-century men’s perfumes, ambiguous, cerulean, delicate, and androgynous, evoking an old English or Viennese gentleman, halfway between a postcard landscape and a drawing-room with people of etiquette. Sillage and longevity are poor, unfortunately.

If I had to summarise it in two words: smoking jacket and top hat. It evokes elegance and romance with that Declaration signature. Roses from start to finish. I struggle to imagine it outside a gala or romantic dinner. It isn’t effeminate; rather, it shifts from a spicy freshness to an intense, bitter woody accord that projects a near-paternal maturity, with warm nuts. After thirty minutes, the sandalwood and peculiar spices emerge with a sweet-and-sour base; during the transition, it smells of mint, which is curious (a work of the spices). I tried it at Christmas and loved it. It’s more suited to evening wear, but in summer, use it discreetly as the rose can be overwhelming. On my skin, it lasted ten hours with excellent projection on clothes. High quality.