Men
Declaration d’Un Soir Intense
Acordes principales
Descripción
Declaration d'Un Soir Intense by Cartier is a woody musky floral fragrance for men. Launched in 2014, this composition features top notes of pink pepper and black pepper; a heart of rose and nutmeg; and a base of sandalwood and musk, created by perfumer Olivier Polge.
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Cuándo llevarla (votos)
Notas clave
Comunidad
345 votos
- Positivo 82%
- Negativo 15%
- Neutral 2.9%
Pirámide olfativa
Estructura completa de la fragancia: de la salida al fondo.
Comunidad
Qué dicen los usuarios sobre propiedad, preferencia y mejor momento de uso.
Propiedad
¿La tienen, la tuvieron o la quieren?
Preferencia
Cómo valora la comunidad esta fragancia.
Uso recomendado
Estación y momento del día con más votos.
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Amazon
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Ideal si priorizas velocidad y disponibilidad.
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Resumen de votos sobre longevidad, estela, género y percepción de precio.
Longevidad
Escasa
Débil
Moderada
Duradera
Muy duradera
Estela
Suave
Moderada
Pesada
Enorme
Género
Femenino
Unisex femenino
Unisex
Unisex masculino
Masculino
Precio
Extremadamente costoso
Ligeramente costoso
Precio moderado
Buen precio
Excelente precio
Reseñas
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15 reseñas
Mostrando las más recientes primero.
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Top notes are spot on, and the longevity is impeccable. One of my favourites: it smells of nut and wood yet remains fresh throughout the entire day.
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.
If I could summarise it in brief words: smoking jacket and top hat. It evokes elegance and romance with the Declaration stamp. Roses from start to finish. I struggle to imagine it outside a gala, wedding, or romantic dinner in the best place. It does not seem effeminate; rather, it evolves from a spicy freshness to an intense, finely bitter woody note that projects almost ‘paternal’ maturity, passing through warm nuts. After 30 minutes, it projects the sandalwood and a peculiar spice combination with a slightly sweet-and-sour effect. In the transition, one can perceive something resembling mint, very curious (a work of the spices). I tried it at Christmas and loved it. I see it more for night use, although in summer it would be best to use it discreetly, as the rose can result in being invasive or dizzying. On my skin, it lasted up to 10 hours with excellent fixation on clothes. A high-quality perfume.
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.
I like it, though I’m not sure I’d buy it; it certainly gives me a tingle. I’m intrigued as to how the notes are blended, but initially, I smell sweet fig leaf, even aniseed mimosa. I imagine the nutmeg (which I’m increasingly fond of) and sandalwood recreate that illusion I adore. I even detect a hint of cardamomo, shifting into a delicate, floral, pollen-like tinkling with sweet cedar nuances… This fragrance amuses me greatly; it’s woody and soft, possessing a natural sweetness that conjures images of woods, pistils, bees, and a microcosm of industrious winged insects viewed through an HD zoom—a real, natural spring world. I only detect the rose at the very end, likely helping the heart phase acquire a cloudy, greyish tone with hints of colouring wax, plasticine, or even pencil shavings that I love. A similar thing happens in another perfume I adore, Lancôme’s Aroma Calm; the rose isn’t felt on its own but reinforces other ingredients (cedar and iris) until they become cloudy and leaden, with a sweetness that is both spicy and muted, just as here. Absolutely unisex, it evokes those early 21st-century men’s perfumes: somewhat ambiguous, cerulean, delicate, and androgynous, while also recalling a bygone gentleman, perhaps more Viennese than English, caught halfway between a postcard landscape and an interior salon with formally dressed guests. Projection and longevity are poor, unfortunately.
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 haven’t tried the original nor do I know if this flanker resembles it, but this is the lot. Every time I go to a perfumery, I rush to try it. I cannot tell exactly what it smells like: sweet plasticine? beaten wood porridge? a lactonic poultice with pollen and pepper? a hazy medicinal fairy remedy? I cannot identify the ingredients, only fragments of nutmeg and sandalwood, but together they fascinate me. It is of the same breed as Boucheron’s Jaipur and the longed-for BLV pour femme: hypnotic, relaxing, veiled like a sheer curtain moving the air, and pleasurable. I want it.
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.
I also found it excellent, one of the best from current designer brands. It is floral, although I do not recognise the rose (it was difficult enough in the original); to me, it smells more like non-indolic jasmine or white flowers. There is no metallic hint nor the silky part of the rose. It mixes with wood and spices, generating a rough sensation, like tree bark, due to the sandalwood, pepper, and nutmeg, which are quite noticeable. I love it, although it is a little rough. It has not performed much in terms of sillage and longevity; it has faded quite a bit, but the verdict is: Excellent.
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.
Brutal longevity and projection. You’re looking for quality and a very real scent. The velvety Red Rose, well-masculine, is the protagonist all day long, flirting with sandalwood and some very rich spicy notes. I see it like this: in a pot, place red rose petals, loose leaf tea, a few sandalwood sticks, and stir.
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.
A delightful surprise. It is versatile and elegant, like the younger sibling of d’Un Soir, though a step less sophisticated. Ideal for semi-formal afternoons and evenings. I love the balance between the rose (much less than the original) and nutmeg as it dries down. Good notes and projection. A triumph by Cartier; distinct but with the DNA intact.
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.
Is anyone else tired of experts judging a perfume by comparing it to something completely unrelated, rather than discussing the scent itself? We want to know if it smells good, not if it’s better than its sibling. References are fine, but they shouldn’t define its actual quality.