Let’s show some brotherhood love this valentine weekend. Everyone probably has that one member of BOS who influenced them the most and added fuel to their fragrance passion. For me, the answer is obvious. @Julio Gutierrez is the one who truly kickstarted it all. Who’s that person for you?

I was genuinely curious to give Maison Margiela Replica Jazz Club a full wearing after it took the Booze War crown. This isn’t my usual scent trail. I’m much more “just stepped out of the shower” than “sitting on a log with a cocktail and a smoke” guy, but I wanted to see what made this one resonate so strongly with so many of you. That first spray from my decant absolutely delivers. The opening is warm, smooth, and inviting, the kind of scent that feels like a place rather than a list of notes. But on my skin, the story changes fairly quickly. As it begins to settle, what starts as rum and tobacco takes on a distinctly green-woody character. Not fresh or leafy, but vegetal, almost like a bunch of freshly spiced celery resting on a cedar plank. And once that impression appears, it’s hard for me to shake. The longer it sits, the more that dry, aromatic woodiness takes center stage, pulling it further away from the richness I was hoping would stay. This reaction isn’t new for me. I had a very similar experience with Bottega Veneta Parco Palladiano XI Castagno, which tells me this is likely a material or aromatic structure my skin and nose simply don’t agree with. That doesn’t make Jazz Club poorly made, in fact, I completely understand why it resonates with so many of you. It’s alluring, maybe even moody, and undeniably well-constructed. For me, though, this one reinforces how personal fragrance really is. What feels like cozy barroom atmosphere to one person can read sharp and vegetal to another, depending on chemistry and perception. I appreciate Jazz Club for what it is, and I respect why it won. It just doesn’t live comfortably on my skin. And I would bet that I am not alone in my lane as I have listened to other brothers who complain when celery lands on the bar without being invited. Sometimes the value isn’t in finding a new favorite, but in learning a little more about what your nose does and doesn’t respond to. And I am grateful that this wearing reinforced that. However, in this case, while it may have almost worn the crown, it’s not my royal highness.

This one feels like a “clean luxury” scent with an old-school backbone. The vibe is polished and classy, but not dusty—more like a crisp button-down with a warm, slightly textured base. The opening comes off bright and smooth (not sharp), then it settles into that comforting “expensive soap + soft woods” territory. What I like is how put together it smells. It’s not trying to be loud or weird, and it doesn’t scream for attention. It’s the type of fragrance that makes you smell fresh and intentional without smelling like you’re wearing “a fragrance,” if that makes sense. Scent profile (how it wears on me) - Opening: clean, slightly bright, airy - Mid: creamy/soft aromatic feel, like refined cleanliness - Drydown: smooth woods + a gentle musky warmth that sticks close Performance - Longevity: solid—lasts most of the day on skin - Projection: moderate for the first hour or two, then becomes more intimate - Sillage: clean trail, not a room-filler When I’d wear it Perfect for work, errands, date nights where you don’t want something heavy, or anytime you want to smell “fresh but grown.” Great signature scent energy. Overall If you’re into clean, classy, understated scents (more refined than “freshie gym spray,” less intense than heavy ambers), NM 1907 is an easy win. Not the most “unique,” but it’s the kind of scent that’s hard to dislike and easy to reach for.

I finally got my nose on By Kilian Angels’ Share, mostly because it made such a strong run in the Booze War and I wanted to understand what made it so appealing. Is it really as great as many have described, or does it push you to a dupe, leaving you feeling less than satisfied? This one’s made the rounds here more than a few times, so most of you know it well, but for anyone who hasn’t had their nose on it yet, it opens with a rich cognac note, warm and slightly sweet, then moves into a spiced heart of cinnamon, tonka, and oak before settling into a cozy base of praline, vanilla, and sandalwood that feels made for cooler weather. That first spray of my decant stopped me in my tracks. It was one of the most beautifully complex openings I can remember smelling, with so much happening at once that it felt almost suspended in time. I’ll remember it as me sitting on my enclosed porch, watching the snow sparkle in the sun as I took it in. The setting was perfect, and maybe that was the problem, because nothing really is. As it began to move and settle into its richer, more familiar form, all I could think was that I wished it had stayed right there, not because what came next was bad, but because what it was felt rarer than what it became. I get why this one has its following, and I also get why some of you bounce off it. By the time it settled into that rich, spicy, woody character, it hardly resembled the sweet warmth of the cognac that opened it. Had that initial, beautifully complex impression remained, this one would have truly commanded its price tag. For me, the experience was less about liking or disliking it and more about realizing how much I value those fleeting moments when a fragrance feels impossibly alive before choosing a direction. That said, since it doesn’t match my clean-and-fresh scent profile, it’s not something I’d typically reach for to wear out. But as a decant and a curiosity, I’m glad I sprung for it, and I don’t regret the experience at all.

I swear the fragrance game has turned into Uber. Not literally, obviously—but the whole vibe is the same: everyone’s jumping in, the market is flooded, pricing feels random, and hype basically sets the “rate” more than actual quality. Back then, it felt like there was a clearer ladder: designers → niche → the really expensive stuff. Now it’s like: - $40 clone that screams for 12 hours - $150 designer that lasts 4–6 - $300 niche that’s smoother but “quiet.” - $500+ luxury line that’s basically paying for branding + bottle + exclusivity And the crazy part is… the price difference isn’t always reflected in how “good” it smells to the average person, especially with how people judge fragrances now. Because honestly, a lot of people have started equating performance with quality. So you get this whole trend where people are convinced that cheaper clones are better than the originals. And I get why they think that: - Louder + longer = “better” (especially for newer hobbyists) - Clones often nail the opening, and that’s all many people really judge - If you’re not doing side-by-side testing, a clone can smell “identical” in the air - Paying $50 and getting “close enough” feels like a win… paying $300 for something subtle feels like you got scammed - Social media rewards hot takes like “THIS IS BETTER THAN THE ORIGINAL,” so it becomes a flex to say it But when you actually compare them properly, it’s usually the same story: Originals tend to be smoother, more balanced, better blended, and have a nicer drydown. Clones tend to be louder, simpler, and more linear, and sometimes have that harsh/chemical/musky “clone DNA” after an hour. The way I see it: Clones win in the first 30–60 minutes and on loud compliments. Originals win after hour 2 when you actually care about how it wears up close. And that’s why the market feels “Uber-ified” now. It’s less about artistry and more about volume, hype, and “surge pricing” driven by FOMO and influencers. Everyone’s just trying to get the biggest hit of scent for the cheapest ride.