This is one of the few perfumes I have bought just for the bottle. I know, I know—there is a universe of more interesting bottles out there. I have also sent interesting bottles to unknown fates via recycling bins before.
Ted Baker’s forte isn’t fragrance; it’s clothing. Three men’s fragrances and three women’s fragrances can be found in their respective departments, relatively inconspicuously placed. Like chewing gum at the checkout aisles of supermarkets, they seem almost an afterthought, bait for an impulse buy.
There are 2 sizes of flasks, and 3 colors: gold (Au), silver (Ag), and copper (Cu). Each contains a juice for a different type of distinguished man, if marketing copy is to be believed. I didn’t love any of them, but Ag smelled the most acceptable to me. The smaller flask appealed to me because: it’s sleek. It’s compact. And—it’s refillable. I’m in it for the long haul.
This is its bio:
Designed to complement a jet-set lifestyle, Ted’s distinguished collection of Travel Tonics are inspired by some of the world’s most treasured metals.
A signature scent for the man who knows how to make an entrance, Ag (Silver) ensures a lasting impression.
Melting from notes of bergamot and violet leaf to an earthy heart of leather and warm cedarwood, this dramatic and distinctive scent captures the essence of refinement.
It’s travel-sized all right, so would be allowed in a carry-on. As for treasured metals, this is written on the inside of the box, once you take out the flask:
Ted says: This distinguished bottle is made from stainless steel, so is prone to marks and scratches. Please treat it with care.
After admiring how sleek and shiny it is, I sprayed some on my wrist. It’s a bit of a watery spritz (not a power mist by any means).
The opening was a bit spicy, yet reassuring. Slightly powdery, with a background of an “essential oil smell” that is my least favorite thing about natural perfumery—but I digress. The powderiness reminds me of a starchy mung bean cake, eaten during Mid-Autumn Festival (Moon Festival) every year (although more modern and fashionable styles of moon cake, such as the snowy skin moon cake, have become more popular—but I digress again). This must be the violet leaf. It’s also a bit almondy.
These qualities, combined with the sharpness of bergamot, risk sliding into wet wipe territory, but fortunately it stops just short of that.
The smell also reminded me of Jean-Claude Ellena’s lauded L’Eau D’Hiver, of which I have a small bottle. Intriguingly, that does not have violet in it, but many others have described in forums their perceptions of violet and almond when smelling it.
About half an hour later, Ag softly transitions into a hint of leather, but it never asserts itself. After several hours, I can still barely detect any cedarwood. It stays powdery. The violet remains, like a fuzzy blanket: assuring a warm, sweet, snuggly drydown.
It’s hard to imagine this as the signature scent of choice for a dramatic jet-setter. But, like I said, I bought it for the bottle.