Spice Blend by Dior

The Spice Blend from Dior’s private line smells different on my skin compared to the official notes. For my novice nose, the opening is pure ginger followed by a vibrant pepper, unsure whether pink or black, which awakens the senses. Then comes the rum, warm and enveloping, embraced by cinnamon that adds depth. The dry down is wood that balances everything. It lasts about six hours on my skin, quite good. It’s an expensive perfume, definitely not one to buy blind, but the quality is noticeable from the very first moment.

It works brilliantly for me! Hyper-spiced and utterly unique. A masculine, elegant, and sexy cut: it’s a bomb of liquor-soaked spices. Far from the original Spicebomb, with no vanilla, no tobacco, and no chemical edge. This is a fairly dry fragrance, devoid of sweetness, yet with a beautiful trail. It deserves a place in the collection of many enthusiasts 🥃🫚🪵🍃

It’s a hidden gem. As soon as you unscrew the cap, if you have a good nose, you detect two distinct peppercorns: black and pink, with woody nuances. Then comes the nutmeg, creating a brutal combo with the pepper. The longevity and projection are top-notch. It costs €120 for 30ml.

One of those Collection Privée scents that is neither here nor there. Upon testing it, I could only detect tonnes of black and pink pepper; the first is sharp and anaesthetising, the second with its obvious milky flavour. It’s truly shrouded in packaging I thought was oud, a very soft and clean oud with its musty, spicy, and umami qualities. But alas, I was wrong. I strained my brain trying to discern the base, assuming it carried a pinch of amber, that kind smelling of dry, woody vanilla, even benjoi. But nothing, not a thing. Now checking the notes, I see it’s the rum that deceived my nose, making me think of the previous elements; undoubtedly, that dry and spicy tone, with a boozy sweetness, is what drives the composition alongside the peppers. Spice Blend is a perfume that appears overladen and baroque if you let yourself be carried away by its ingredients, and indeed, it stings and anaesthetises the mouth, yet it is wrapped in a misty, ghostly aura that suits it perfectly. It’s as if Dior had taken a masculine perfume from the 2010s, a Bang or a Spicebomb, so broad and artificial, and endowed it with the texture of a fine Versailles boudoir, which they handle so well. And truly, that’s about it. It’s not ugly; it has a touch of sexiness and is elegant, refined in its aroma, but above all in its texture, which is divine. Spice Blend is something you’ve smelled before, but with a more sophisticated and expensive touch. Truly, it adds little to the line, where there are better options, but it’s also amusing that it is an improved version of more garrulous perfumes. After a while, almost in the base notes, the nutmeg and cinnamon stand out, along with a laurel with vetiver undertones, accords that remain hidden for much of the development. This is my favourite part: masculine but in a unisex style like Sycomore and those high-end spiced woods, very erotic. It also reminds me of one of those horrendous (sorry) Bvlgari scents loaded with brandy and cognac, but as I said before, well-made, calm, and whispering. Totally unisex; it can be worn by both men and women, possessing an androgynous touch in both that would make you think of the opposite sex, though personally I lean more towards the masculine side. The ideal wearer… some fictional revolutionary Russian from the early 20th century, a handsome conqueror defending himself from the cold wrapped in a cloak of fine cigarette scents, leather preservatives for beast harnesses, and books. Curiously, this Spice Blend keeps me oscillating between ‘I absolutely don’t care’ and ‘hey, it smells very nice’. Of course, for me, I don’t want it; it’s zero me due to the overload of smoky, spicy, and boozy notes, but it deserves a sniff for how well it manages to transform its violent, shouty notes into a toile de toilette that smells and feels like something expensive.