Another amazing opening. Is it Christmas? Someone is baking ginger cookies. I smell some peppermint. Maybe even a little toasty coconut. However, after a few minutes, now in there, something like… paint thinner?

Oh, my god. GRANDMA IS PUTTING TURPENTINE IN THE CHRISTMAS COOKIES. The family is gathered around the hearth, unaware that Grandma is cooking up hot death in the kitchen. Now she brings out the tray of them, still warm and soft from the oven, and deadly. I know I shouldn’t eat them. But they smell SO GOOD.

There’s something distinctly feminine and powdery underpinning this, yet stereotypically masculine in its boldness. It’s the Squeaky Fromme or Aileen Wuornos of the fragrance world. Or maybe, better, the Elizabeth Bathory.

Though it’s a very unusual scent, the drydown reveals that it’s still built on a base that is unmistakably classy, refined and elegant. If I was taking the witness stand in a court case (likely, I’d say, after the poisoned cookies) and the prosecuting attorney (of either gender) smelled like this does an hour into it, I’d be very afraid. Because this smells like the signature scent of someone who’s confident enough to dominate in the courtroom, even after they were out until 6:30 AM helping their clients dispose of bodies in the northern New Jersey woods. And wants you, and the judge, and the jury, and the gallery, and this entire damn courtroom to know it.

This is a cinematic scent, I’ll give it that.

After a few Rogue tests, I’m noticing some trends. They all start, to a one, with an opening that’s like the gates of heaven opening, or the gates of pandemonium, or the gates of *something*. You get wrapped in a moderately low-sillage but unique-smelling haze for a while. Often, there’s very soon a note of violence or discord way in the background, the tiniest little note of something sharp and unsettling. That’s not a complaint… alcohol tastes way more unpleasant than anything I’m talking about here, and we all like it anyway. A shot of bitters will sooth your stomach. Many people have been known to take a little taste of poison, it’s good for the constitution. But there’s something in there that keeps you on your toes for danger.

Then, often pretty soon, both the angelic choirs and hint of destruction simmer down, and the whole thing gets down to its business, which in most cases is smelling pretty good, if slightly less remarkable than the opening had led you to expect it would. I would actually like it better if they were more linear.

The best comparison I can think of: it’s like side 1 and side 2 of the album “2112”. Not to say the whole thing isn’t great, it is, but, we both know which side you were were thinking of when you put the album on the turntable. (And no, obviously I’m not afraid to shamelessly date myself with my references, thanks for asking.) These Rogue frags are definitely about the overture, not the second act.

In this particular case, though, as I continue this laborious screed, I’m somewhere around the beginning of act II—to extend the metaphor, somewhere in the middle of “A Passage To Bangkok”—and it couldn’t be more different from how it opened. It’s turned quietly warm and wonderful, some sort of asian spice perhaps, and, believe it or not… how can I put this… if Brut was a $300/bottle fragrance, this is what it would smell like. The scary note is folded in so small, blended so perfectly, it doesn’t stand out. I’ll also say, no more gender dysphoria, this drydown is all male. And pretty great. “A Passage To Bangkok” is an apt metaphor for how this thing starts the second act. It changed direction, but no complaints at all. You could cut the beginning of this cologne off completely, toss the entire Christmas horror spectacular and start from here, and this would be a really solid, classic men’s aromatic.

Wow. That changed a lot in an hour. I’d really like it if Rogue fragrances did for four hours what they do in the first hour, then did for an hour or two what they do for the next four. But, then, the fact that they don’t saves me a lot of money in cologne purchases.

I do have to say, by the way, the Rogue 12-for-$35 sampler is a STEAL. I think I get two decent tests out of each tiny 1.5ml bottle. And you have to fit an atomizer to them, those little rollerballs suck. But, really, they give you a lot of wild & wonderful fragrance to to try out for $35.

Checking in a few hours later: This basically, and totally unexpectedly, dried down to a very nice men’s aromatic fougere in the same family of—pardon my only points of reference—Brut or Paco Rabanne Pour Homme. But I feel like that comparison is a bit of a disservice. Those are the good-hearted blue-collar men of the family. This is the older, much wealthier member of the same family. True to the opening, it does keep a very tiny bit of sugar throughout, but so little it’s hardly noticeable. It’s really nice, and seems to last quite a long time close to the skin, I keep catching nice whiffs.

It’s just not a place I expected to to end up from the opening Christmas Cookie Massacre.