Creed
Creed
217 votes
A unique visual signature based on accords, character, and seasonality
Grapefruit pith and pink pepper strike first—tart, resinous, almost medicinal in their clarity—with ginger threading through like hot wire. The citrus isn't fresh in a cologne sense; it's astringent, grounding, the kind of brightness that makes you inhale sharply through your nose. There's an immediate spiced woodiness lurking just beneath, restless and unsweetened.
The tea accord emerges properly now, tannic and slightly bitter, whilst the blackcurrant bud adds its peculiar vegetal musk—green stems crushed between fingers. Coffee and rum create a shadowy warmth in the background, enriching rather than sweetening, like the smell of a bar at midday when sunlight catches the spirit bottles. The tobacco begins its slow reveal, still leafy and semi-cured, not yet the plush loungewear version.
Sandalwood and tobacco settle into a dry, woody skin scent—less smoke, more the scent of wood panelling that's absorbed decades of pipe tobacco. The spice has faded to a prickle, a ghost of pepper and ginger lingering at the edges. What remains is austere, almost ascetic: warm skin, old wood, the faintest suggestion of something once-sweet now turned earthy and contemplative.
Tabarome Millésime takes the classic tobacco accord and runs it through a bracing gauntlet of spice and citrus, emerging as something altogether more kinetic than the typical smoking-jacket affair. The grapefruit and pink pepper combine in that sharp, almost resinous way—less about sweetness and more about the pithy, peppercorn-dusted oils you'd find in a well-made marmalade. Ginger adds a fibrous heat that keeps the opening from feeling too polished or pretty. This isn't the smooth, honeyed tobacco of old-world elegance; it's the tobacco leaf itself, green-edged and slightly bitter, meeting the steam and tannins of black tea in the heart. The blackcurrant bud brings that catty, vegetal sharpness—a touch feral against the more groomed elements—whilst the coffee and rum suggestion hovers rather than dominates, adding a boozy depth without veering into gourmand territory. The sandalwood base is dry, almost austere, allowing the tobacco to remain the central character throughout without drowning in sweetness or powder. This is for the person who finds traditional masculines too cloying but still wants gravitas—perhaps worn with a cashmere rollneck rather than a three-piece suit. It smells expensive in that particular Creed way: natural materials handled with confidence, never shouting, but never apologising either. Best in autumn's damp chill, when the air itself smells of woodsmoke and wet leaves.
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3.9/5 (115)