M/Mink

11 reseñas

Mostrando las más recientes primero.

• Bofifa

  September 15, 2016

  

  Well, what can I say about this perfume… First, that it’s unique. Or rather, rare. It’s not generic or for everyone, certainly. Although defined as unisex, for me it occupies -invades- all the spectrums of masculine fragrances. I see nothing remotely feminine in it. Let’s talk about the opening. It can be extremely aggressive if you’re not used to perfumes like Kouros. In fact, with that last classic, it shares the same animal, musky, dirty accord, which some people remind them of urine. This accord is accompanied by clean notes, but too ‘clean’. I don’t know if I’m explaining myself: detergent notes or disinfectant liquid. The combination causes a bathroom effect that someone has used after several weeks of constipation, and which was immediately cleaned and disinfected afterwards. Said so, it scares, doesn’t it? More examples of people I gave M/Mink to smell after applying it: ‘Smells like very dirty armpit. And also shit.’ ‘Smells like an attic.’ ‘Smells like car air freshener.’ The curious thing about the matter is that this ‘dirty’ core is accompanied by a sharp olfactory illusion of Chinese ink, but artisanal Chinese ink, made with natural products of very high quality. The combination of all these notes makes M/Mink a highly suggestive perfume, loaded with evocative images; some speak of stinking lavatories, others of ink buckets, also of zoos or abandoned factories. I prefer to stick with the idea of a ruined industrial landscape, nocturnal, invaded by grass and wild plants, with shadows of vermin inhabiting it, beautiful but dangerous at the same time. The projection is quite high, and it lasts centuries. To me, it’s a masterpiece and one of the niche perfumes worth paying its exorbitant price for. It seems of extremely high quality and besides, there’s nothing remotely similar. But it has a very reduced audience: to wear this, you must be very individualistic, or bohemian, or be used to the masculine fragrances of the eighties (powerhouses). If you wear it, M/Mink will reward you with an aura of threat, of romanticism, of wild poetry that won’t leave anyone indifferent. Note: 10/10.

• Espartaco

  October 27, 2016

  

  Bloody hell, I just read Bofifa’s review and I have a huge urge to try this M/Mink by Byredo. I’ve never smelled anything from the brand, it’s not sold in my town, and paying ten euros for a 1.5ml tube doesn’t seduce me. But I’ve always liked the house: the names and the bottle design, with that modernist cap that reminds me of some comic book city. Investigating, I discovered it’s a commission from the M/M Paris studio, creators of the graphics for Balenciaga, Missoni, or Louis Vuitton. They’re avant-garde, they love corrupting photos with colours and geometric shapes and finishing by hand in Chinese ink, in the style of bohemian illustrations from the seventies. Could that be the ink smell Bofifa mentions? It’s difficult; some call it a ‘novelty’ item because of the smell and because it seems inspired by Dada and Elsa Schiaparelli, a precursor to Moschino’s irony in the thirties. M/Mink wants to make nods to unpleasant concepts, but I’m intrigued that Bofifa likes it, although the perfume seems impractical on purpose. It carries incense, patchouli, honey, amber, and adoxal, a synthetic that mimics the valley lily. I love the name full of references: M/M is the studio, ‘ink’ is ink, but if you add the ‘m’ in English, ‘mink’ is mink. Antagonistic concepts. Besides, it has a metallic dry-down created on purpose; Ben Gorhman says they wanted it to smell of blood, not sweet blood, but tons of blood. Isn’t that a similar idea to the first perfumes by Comme des Garçons? I remember the review of Odeur 53: ‘smells like rivers of aluminium, hot blood, car engine…’. Could this be a conceptual perfume in their style? And above all, could it result in an interesting perfume to wear within Bofifa’s idiosyncrasy of aberration? I want to try it.

• Espartaco

  November 10, 2016

  

  Bloody hell, I just read Bofifa’s review and I’ve got a hankering to try this M/Mink by Byredo. I’ve never smelled anything from the brand, it’s not sold in my town, and paying nine or ten euros for a 1.5ml sample tube that I don’t know if I’ll like doesn’t seduce me. However, I’ve always been interested in this house; I like the names of their perfumes and above all the bottle design, with that almost modernist cap that reminds me of some comic book city based on modernism. Investigating a bit on M/Mink, I discovered it’s a bespoke creation by the graphic design studio M/M Paris, the creators of the graphics for brands like Balenciaga, Missoni, or currently Louis Vuitton. I know this studio’s work; they’re very avant-garde, they love corrupting a previous photo using colours and geometric shapes to then finish by hand in Chinese ink with drawings similar to the bohemian illustrations of the seventies… could that ink smell mentioned by Bofifa come from here? Apparently, it’s a difficult perfume that some have categorised as a ‘novelty’ item, first by its smell and above all because it seems inspired by Dada and creations like Elsa Schiaparelli’s shoe/hat, famous for her collaborations with Salvador Dalí and for being a kind of precursor to Moschino’s irony but in the thirties. M/Mink goes that way, wanting to make nods to multiple concepts that appear unpleasant in perfumery, yet I’m intrigued that Bofifa finds it quite interesting… although apparently, within the nature of the perfume, being impractical on purpose is part of it. It carries incense, patchouli, honey, and amber, plus adoxal, a synthetic compound that mimics the valley lily. By the way, I love the name full of nods and references. M/M is the name of the studio that gave birth to it, however, ‘ink’ means ink, but if you add the ‘m’ in English, ‘mink’ means mink… M/M, ink, and mink… such antagonistic concepts. Finally, it has a metallic dry-down I’ve read about created on purpose; Ben Gorhman says they wanted it to smell of blood. Not sweet blood, but tons of blood… don’t you find it a very similar idea to the first perfumes by Comme des Garçons? When I was younger, I remember reading a review of Odeur 53, my youthful mind was very impacted by the way that perfume was sold; it said something like ‘smells like rivers of aluminium, hot blood, car engine, baby breath…’ Could this M/Mink be a conceptual perfume in the style of Comme when they weren’t so massified yet? And above all, could it result in an interesting perfume to wear within Bofifa’s idiosyncrasy of aberration? I want to try it.

• Darkbeat

  January 20, 2018

  

  M/Mink is the most original and strange perfume I’ve tried. Rare, but within that rarity lies an exotic, almost hypnotic beauty, hard to explain. I equate it to Chihuahuas: the uglier they are, the more we like them because they seem funny. This perfume, despite its eccentricity, isn’t ugly; it has something I love and can’t explain. It has an almost linear aroma: from the start, it smells the same, a mix of natural ink and fresh sap from a freshly cut plant, warm and sticky, with a precious resinous tone. It’s complex to describe. This opening aroma lasts almost the whole life, except that at the end it becomes very intense and wraps in a honeyed tone, warmer and cozier. Sometimes I see a mortar with crushed plants and that green, fresh, undefined smell that floods my nostrils. Other times, I smell my printer ink, with that metallic touch, due to the aldehydes. Although the description isn’t welcoming, the scent hooks you; it’s a subliminal beauty that whispers a spell to make you fall down. The performance is very good: I put it on at 9:00 and now it’s 18:45 and I still perceive it clearly. The trail is good, very diffusive from the start. It’s for night and cold climates; winter and autumn are its allies, although on a cold morning like today it’s enjoyed perfectly. It’s to taste. It’s risky and not for everyone, but if you have the opportunity, don’t let it pass; you might find a lost treasure.

• Darkbeat

  January 27, 2018

  

  M/Mink is the most original and strange perfume I’ve tried. It’s rare, but within that rarity lies an exotic, almost hypnotic beauty. I compare it to Chihuahuas: the uglier they are, the more we like them because they seem funny; this perfume is the same, it’s not ugly, it has something I love and I don’t know what it is. The aroma is almost linear, it smells the same from the start: natural ink and fresh sap from a freshly cut plant, warm and sticky. It’s complex to explain. At the start it’s very intense, but then it wraps in a honeyed tone, warmer and cozier. Sometimes I see a mortar with crushed plants, that green and undefined smell that floods my nostrils. Other times I smell printer ink with a metallic touch, due to the aldehydes. Although it doesn’t sound welcoming, it hooks you; it’s a subliminal beauty that whispers a spell. The performance is brutal: I put it on at 9:00 and at 18:45 I still notice it clearly. The trail is very diffusive. It’s for night and cold climates, winter and autumn are its allies, although on a cold morning like today it goes perfectly too. It’s risky and not for everyone, but if you have the opportunity, don’t let it pass, you might find a lost treasure.

• remy

  February 11, 2018

  

  Just recovering my sense of smell, I dare to try this. I can’t tolerate indifference; I need a fragrance to speak to me. And this one does. The lion isn’t as fierce as they paint; it’s not a perfume in the strict sense, it’s an experience. I don’t smell ink or faecal substances. We start well: an overwhelming opening but nothing world-beating. What strikes most is an explosion of resinous aldehydes of incense and labdanum. Then, a dirty, earthy patchouli that I absolutely adore. An excessive, soapy animalic musk appears, drops in intensity and doesn’t bother. What I like most is the base: balsamic, smoky, with turpentine and a touch of camphor. I can’t stop smelling my arm; it’s persistent and long-lasting. It’s masculine, not very versatile, for autumn and winter nights with grunge clothes. A solitary and nostalgic perfume. It transports me to three scenes: flowers, scrubland, and straw on a ghost town road in the US, with scruffy lads in cornfields; an old lioness den full of dust, grain sacks, and a vintage Singer; or that train to the capital during exams, with hope in the rucksack. The city entrance: high-voltage towers, oxidised carriages on dead tracks, shacks, and crowded people. A desolate, sad, yet human landscape. Illusion and desolation hand in hand. This fragrance evokes it, and well, because it makes us see how privileged we are and that we aren’t so far away. It fills me with humility and feet on the ground. Thanks to Bofifa for the sample full of mixed feelings.

• Espartaco

  February 16, 2018

  

  The start of M/Mink smells like human shit. Not goat, horse, pig, white flowers, civet, or castoreum. It’s the shit of an individual with a DNI who goes to the nearest Burger King. After taking a dump in the toilet of a shopping centre, someone alerted cleaning services to disinfect thoroughly. That’s what I perceive: a slap of faecal notes against other disinfectant and industrial ones. The industrial tone comes from the aldehydes, but I don’t understand how they recreate human excrement. There’s something that reminds me of Kouros, but where Kouros is civet/aldehydes, here it’s simple excrement/aldehydes, without that nice algalia tone found in perfumes like Ysatis. Here there’s no beauty; it’s stinking like a bus station toilet. Curiously, you can’t stop smelling it; the 3D image intrigues you. If it didn’t evolve, it would only be worth it as surrealism. But it turns and transforms into a dense, dirty, aquatic, masculine scent with earthy soap and incense, losing the faecal tone but leaving a trail. The essence is a cross between Aqua di Giò and Chanel Bleu: the water of the first, the incense and patchouli of the second. Diffuse, between aquatic and barbershop, masculine, neat, and for everyone. If you try it, it’s an experience. The longevity is excellent.

• remy

  February 27, 2018

  

  Since my sense of smell has recovered, I launch myself at the attack. I can’t stand indifference; a fragrance has to speak to me, either well or badly. And this one does. The lion isn’t as fierce as they say, although for me it’s not a perfume, it’s an experience. It doesn’t smell of ink or shit. The opening is overwhelming but nothing world-beating. What I absolutely adore is that explosion of resinous aldehydes of incense and labdanum, followed by a dirty, earthy patchouli. Then comes a raw, soapy animalic musk that I don’t like, but it drops in intensity and doesn’t bother. The best is the base: balsamic, smoky, with turpentine and a touch of camphor. I can’t stop smelling my arm; it’s persistent and long-lasting. It’s masculine, not very versatile, for remembering places and moments, ideal in autumn and winter with grunge-style wool clothes. A solitary and nostalgic perfume. It transports me to three places: a cornfield in a ghost town in the US with scruffy lads and scarecrows; an abandoned lioness den full of dust, grain sacks, and a Singer machine; or that train of my exams, with high-voltage towers, oxidised carriages, and shacks of misery. It’s desolate but human, a mix of illusion and sadness that makes me feel privileged and humble. Thanks to Bofifa for the sample full of mixed feelings.

• jerry drake

  April 28, 2020

  

  Cooking helps you understand segregation times. While making pesto, I thought about what a friend’s daughter told me this afternoon: value not just what you say, but how you say it and how you stand. She likes this scent, minus one detail. To her, it’s a strange liquid; to me, a complete aroma. Having old-fashioned tastes forced me to realise others might love these proposals. Let’s talk, my dear: your forward-thinking tastes open horizons. It’s an incredible generational olfactory exchange. To me, it remains rare, more of an experiment than a perfume, fascinating yet repulsive. It manages to be different from what perfumeries sell. The prelude can be disturbing. Here, the ink works better: a prepotent chemical smell that later turns into a synthetic, dusty, greasy freshness. As Spartacus would say, it’s like working three days in a car workshop. Then, a synthetic shock: cyber-incense worthy of The Matrix. The sillage is strong and penetrating. I don’t recommend buying blind.

• Gentil vagabond

  October 26, 2022

  

  Risky business, but if you’re hooked on Kouros or Secretions Magnifiques, this one is for you.

• Gentil vagabond

  October 29, 2022

  

  A daring scent, but if you’re hooked on Kouros or Secretions Magnifiques, this is your place.