The Scented Devil

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I feel like Quercus had a similar goal in mind as that of the later Zizonia (2001), and that was to show the world that Penhaligon’s could still make them “like they used to” in regards to composing in the spirit of it’s back-catalog of late 19th and early 20th century fragrances made by William Penhaligon himself. The “old pennies” were all very dry, very proper English barbershop smells, ranging from the dandy civeted rose and sandalwood of Hammam Bouquet (1872), stark lemon, pine, pepper, and musk wake-up call of Blenheim Bouquet (1902), to the anglicized Fougère Royale (1882) that was Penhaligon’s English Fern (1911). Quercus seeks to be a successor to the oeuvre of William Penhaligon, as crafted by one Christian Provenzano, and to a strong degree it does complete that task. My only question is why do this? Penhaligon’s still makes most of it’s classic catalog, and although painfully traditional recreations of a lost art are always nice from an academic interest perspective, Quercus doesn’t really add to the legacy in any way, and is not only an unnecessary exercise, but boringly redundant like the shot-for-shot remake of Hitchcock’s Psycho in the 1990’s. Now I’m not saying Quercus is an embarrassing overreach in the same way Vince Vaughn’s portrayal of Norman Bates was, as it manages to actually stay in control of what it presents as it dries down, but again, why was this thought to be something worth adding to the catalog? The fundamental thing about Quercus is it riffs off of eau de cologne styles, but not with the neroli-filled accuracy of Penhaligon’s own Castille (1998), which would follow only 2 short years after this, but instead Quercus fuses the cologne vibe with English austerity and dryness, with an oakmoss and musk base that form the the only (slightly) redeeming part of the scent. Quercus itself means “oak” so I can see the necessity to have oakmoss in the base, but once the citrus, dusty floral heart, and cardamom finish, you end up with a Victorian proxy for cK One (1994). I mean, if steam punk cK sounds like your bag, this might have you written all over it, and indeed an untapped niche market awaits. The scent opens with bergamot, lemon, lime, and mandarin, the latter of which stands in for a normal cologne’s neroli, which is why this is missing any soapy sweetness, remaining tart and juicy instead. Jasmine and muguet come alongside cardamom plus something else white and floral in tone I can’t make out, eventually burning through the citrus in only an hour. What’s left is a quite right British barbershop base of sandalwood, oakmoss, amber, and musk, with a shot of grassy galbanum keeping the finish from getting round and pillowy like cK One. Quercus is the humorless unisex fragrance alternative for folks who want to avoid seeming hip in their choice of androgynous scent. Another way to look at it is Quercus achieves a warm scratchy wood finish the natural way, rather than with norlimbanol. I don’t hate Quercus, but I also don’t particularly care for it. Even if this stuff had been sold alongside Hammam or Blenheim Bouquet in the old days, I doubt many would have reached for it because it’s effectively a flash of juicy citrus, then a dry floral woodsy musk that is neither floral enough for the high street dandies nor musky enough for the back-alley fops, as both had better options even then, meaning this would move off shelves only if better choices were out of stock. What Quercus comes off to me as, is a lazy cross-section of Penhaligon’s early styles in a bottle: it starts like a cologne, then transitions to a floral, before ending in fougère notes, but not even good ones because the stuff never fully commits to the style it’s paying homage to in each phase before entering the next, drying down to the half-hearted oakmoss base that is the true face of the fragrance. Pleasant, but boringly dry and cut with too much ambiguity, Quercus is not the representation of oak its name paints it to be, nor one that should be bothered with outside the Penhaligon’s dedicated fanbase, who are the folks wearing this most. I’d wear it if given to me, but considering there are so many better options within the house’s own lines alone, this is more of a B-side meant as passable catalog filler which I’d barely reach for even if received as a gift, meaning it’s an “oh I might as well” choice I’d rather not feel obligated to make. Definitely sample this before passing your own judgment though, as you might find this to be enjoyable despite where I stand with it.