Macho by Faberge

I'm feeling a little retro today, so I dug out my mini of Faberge's Macho that was sent to me courtesy of my good friend and vintage seller extraordinaire XMEN. I don't believe a more tacky, phallic bottle could have been conceived to advertise this 1976 Fougiental. It's cheeky cool and absolutely 1970's.

I also own bottles of Cellini and Turbo.....and I'm sure I'll get around to them this winter, but for now, Macho has my attention. The scent itself is pure 70's as well and indicative of not only the time, but how masculines were constructed and expected to smell.

Macho opens with a cologny blast of citrus mingled with spice, herb and a healthy dose of lavender. Dominant lavender of the soapy kind seems to have the market cornered in this era. The rendition in Macho isn't over the top, but very apparent. It's not caustic like it is in some other retro offerings....and for that I am grateful. The accord is actually pretty good, albeit dated. It really is something you would remember Dad wearing.

The heart is an impressive floral array that has to literally wait out the opening assault to have its day in the sun. There's subtle wood in there as well....along with an appearance from what must be a cinnamon-pepper duo. The listed rose, geranium and carnation gradually provide a backdrop for the spicy lavender and wood that is now the theme of Macho.

By the time the base accord arrives, what transpires is a very low key oriental triumvirate of amber, tonka and vanilla that's still affected by the cinnamon. This peppery cinnamon note remains through the life of Macho and finally expires hours later on top of a thin skin scent of slightly powdery musk.

Ah yes.......the 1970's were eclectic beyond belief with Hippies, drugs, loud fashion, huge cars, civil unrest, war and other uncertainties.........all in full bloom for the world to ogle. Why in the world wouldn't a Fougiental fragrance shaped like a penis and testicles feel welcome in this circus? Well......I have news for you....it fit in just fine thank you. There was just something about being young, wearing your favorite bell bottoms and wrangler jacket, hopping into your Ford Mustang and reeking of Macho while you schemed on how you were going to get lucky that night. Did the Macho help? Hell if I know. I went home most nights alone.....but at least I smelled....well......macho.