Stetson Sierra Coty for men

My dad wears this religiously. It smells great on him, so it must work with his chemistry. I've been with him when women compliment him on it as well, so it's not just that it's a nostalgic smell for me and that's why I like it. It's crisp and woody all at the same time. I definitely get the basil and bergamot in the initial foreground and then the patchouli and amber smell warms in the background as it dries down.

One of the worst colognes i have ever tried. Had to work with a guy who wore this all the time. Should have told him to throw it in the trash.

my mom bought this for me when I was about 19. I wore it to a party. big mistake as all the guys made fun of me.
it's actually not that bad if you're of retirement age.

When I was at school in the mid-70s, our Form teacher, who was also Head of French, used to arrive each morning as if he had just taken a bath in 'Brut-33, Splash-on'.

A podgy, stocky, red-faced, irascible bully of a man, 'Sir' possessed a characteristic gait similar to that of 'Policeman Plod' as his feet pointed outwards beyond 45-degrees, making him an 'easy-target' for 'us boys' as we conferred him with the somehow befitting moniker of, 'Penguin'.

Teenagers can be so creative, yet naughty and cruel all at the same time.

Still, 'Sir' - a veritable 'product' of Britain's former good old 'National Service' - arguably deserved our contempt, as he was behaviourally predisposed to violence, both physical and psychological, often shouting with rage and furious anger when, typically, he caught an inattentive boy doodling:

"Pay attention, boy!" he would bellow, "or I will hand out slabs of persecution!"

And without further ado, whilst habitually weilding a size 12 old 'Dunlop "Greenflash"' tennis shoe for added menace, 'Sir' would accost the said pupil forcibly, as he tried to discover the now quickly hidden collection of cartoon-sketched, dripping knobs and pussies 'Smith' had been industriously drawing, instead of paying attention to the French lesson in which we were meant to learn how to conjugate verbs.

Moreover, despite 'Sir's' daily application of Faberge's popular zeitgeist 'men's aftershave', come first-break, when we bundled back in to our form-room to get our books for the next lessons of 'double-chemistry' - an event noteworthy primarily for its relative state of tedium, as opposed to inspired learning, one was hit by a stench of gargantuan proportion: a Leviathan of a stink, as 'Sir's adrenaline, classroom-rage-generated B.O. and obnoxious pipe-smoke breath 'coloured' the airways further with the sweet fougere delights of Faberge's paradigm scent. This was duly exacerbated in Autumn and Spring terms as all the ancient iron-framed windows were hermetically sealed by decades of fossilised lead-based, gloss paint, together with the massive ironmongery of the archaic radiators gushing-out unrelenting, excessive heat like Satan's lair. Add to this environment, the combined odours of the 2 previous classes of hormonally labile, restlest teenage boys, and the result was indeed, 'pure chemistry', albeit of the most wantonly disgusting variety, especially if the last pupil exiting 'Room, 3A' had 'dropped one' just for purposes of boyish sport.

Anyway, the point of this preamble is that for reasons apposite to my logging-on, here, I have sensed this odour of fear, bullying, rebellion, and strategies of retreat all last week, and, when at the gym this morning, I espied and then smelled someone spraying-on 'Stetson', it propelled me back to those 5th-year days in '76: 'Sir's "Brut"', his outrageous 'control-freak' bullying and the accompanying deeper stench of purulent dysfunction.

It's funny what perfumes make you think!

"Chin chin and au revoir!"

Andyray