There's a prevailing rumor that Instant Crush is little more than a dupe of Kurkdjian's Baccarat Rouge 540. That may well be the case, but, not having smelled the Kurkdjian for some years, my memory of it is vague enough that I'll simply discuss Instant Crush as if it were decidedly original.

Of the various exotic woods and spices that have made their way into fragrance in the past twenty years or so, as the fanatical fervor over Cool Water and Green Irish Tweed dupes has finally begun to die, saffron is perhaps the least common and most interesting. Intensely difficult to work with, saffron-esque molecules like safraleine and ethyl safranate tend to carry an oddly oily, burned-plastic/scorched-powder aspect, coupled with extraordinary strength. This makes them troublesome to use because they often impart this characteristic at even minor levels, such that the fragrance can stick in the back of the throat like a bitter lozenge, the strange oiliness seeming to coat the inside of one's nose.

Blessedly, the subject of today's review, Mancera Instant Crush, is not possessed of this unpleasantness. Instead, the fragrance opens with a rich vanilla, set against saffron and powder in a way that's both inventive and endearingly familiar. There's a rumbly, leathery aspect to it that I attribute largely to the saffron molecules (I suspect safraleine makes an appearance here) and which keeps the open from being too sweet or cloying. I will confess that I smell absolutely no ginger or mandarin, despite the proclaimed presence of both, and would have actually welcomed some of the fizzy woodiness that ginger oil brings. Ah well.

In any event, there's the general presence of ambery whatever-the-hell, but it's thankfully rather muted, muffled into a quiet underline by the intense vanilla. Similarly, despite the supposed presence of rose and patchouli, I get neither as a recognizable note, though I do suspect that rose oxide is used in combination with the vanilla (and a touch of heliotropin) to enhance the powdery character of the whole thing.

Which really leads me to the main thrust of Instant Crush: it's dry. Like, scraped-bone, desiccated mummy dry. Like vanilla aged for a thousand years kind of dry. It's weird, actually; normally, vanilla fragrances are either very smooth and musky or very sweet, but the Mancera take is neither. Instead, there's an impression of talc mixed with the vanilla, as if you're patting yourself with the most luxurious baby powder imaginable, and which dries the whole thing out almost to an almost absurd degree. The saffron enhances this, the bitter-stamen feel that it imparts making the fragrance feel even less sweet, but I must admit that the contrast between this dry-bitter architecture and the vanilla core is superbly judged: neither characteristic is overwhelming or even especially separable from the other. Instead, the entire design seems to be in constant flux and presents a unique sensory profile every time.

I didn't really expect to like Instant Crush. In fact, it took me several wearings to warm to it, and it initially presented itself more shrilly and obnoxiously on my skin than it has grown to be after we've gotten more familiar with each other. My preference in vanilla has long rested squarely on the shoulders of Maurice Roucel's grand soliloquy Musc Ravageur, but I'm seriously considering picking up a bottle of the Mancera scent. The price is very reasonable and the longevity is HUGE, so why not?