When I look back, my fragrance journey is really part of a bigger life pattern for me. I’ve always started with what was accessible, but over time, I found myself wanting the real thing. When I was younger, I had a Kawasaki KZ900. It was a good bike, but I took the emblems off because, in my mind, it wasn’t a Harley. It wasn’t about the Kawasaki being bad. It was about knowing what I really wanted. The same thing happened with watches. Fake watches scratched the surface for a while, but once I finally bought the Rolex, I understood the difference. The fake could copy the look, but it could not copy the feeling, the pride, the quality, or the personal achievement behind owning the real thing. Fragrance has followed that same path. My designer journey really started with Yves Saint Laurent Kouros. That was the first designer fragrance I bought on my own in 1981, and I have always owned it. Kouros was not just another bottle to me. It represented stepping into fragrance on my own terms. It was bold, masculine, confident, and unforgettable. That one became part of my story. Then came fragrances like Drakkar Noir and a few other designers from that era. Those were the scents that shaped a lot of men’s fragrance memories. They were powerful, recognizable, and they had character. Back then, designers had identity. They were not just endless flankers chasing trends. They felt like statements. Later, when niche and artisan fragrances became more interesting to me, clones became a way to explore expensive scent profiles without jumping straight into full bottles. I still think clones have a place. They can be useful, especially when you are learning what you like or trying to understand a scent profile before spending serious money. But at one time, I owned several hundred clones, and after a while, it just was not satisfying. Seeing all of those bottles sitting on the shelf every day did not give me the same feeling as owning the real fragrance. There was no real story behind many of them. No connection to the original artist. No history with the house. No feeling that I owned the actual creation.

I’ve been letting Asad Zanzibar by Lattafa sit on my shelf for quite a while now, trying to decide how I truly feel about it. Released in early 2024, this fragrance was a highly anticipated follow-up to the massive success of the original Asad. It was crafted by the renowned perfumer Fanny Bal, which initially gave me high hopes. When I first smelled it in the store, the coconut note gave off a "Le Beau" vibe that piqued my interest, but after bringing it home, the experience became a bit more complicated. It’s a complete departure from the DNA of the original, and even after letting the bottle macerate for months, I’m still not entirely convinced it’s the right fit for my collection. The scent journey is a bit of a rollercoaster. It kicks off with a very sharp, almost aggressive opening of black pepper and lavender that hits the nose hard, though thankfully that initial sting burns away relatively fast. As it transitions into the heart, the fragrance transforms into a creamy, coastal experience driven by a prominent coconut water note mixed with sea salt and a touch of iris. The dry down is where it settles into its final form—a mix of smooth vanilla and a lingering incense. While the salt and creaminess make it unique, there is a specific herbal-spicy quality to the blend that feels a bit polarizing compared to the mass-appeal sweetness I expected. In terms of performance, it’s a bit of a mixed bag for me. It doesn’t scream off the skin; the projection is relatively intimate, and the longevity is moderate, lasting around 5 to 6 hours before becoming a faint skin scent. Because of that salty, tropical profile, it is definitely best suited for the high heat of summer or casual daytime wear during a beach holiday. It’s a "vacation in a bottle" type of scent, but it lacks the punch and versatility of the original Asad. While I appreciate the brand trying something bold and different, I find myself reaching for the Bourbon flanker much more often when I want something with real character.