Clive Christian, V for Men
Enter the woodsman, clad in Armani, tailored to the nines and absolutely brimming with everything it means to be a man. He sheds his armor and underneath it all he is still sturdy, if somehow softer. His scent speaks of chiseled marble columns, tall and sturdy through the centuries or pine tree trunks ringed on the inside yet fresh and green all year. Don’t get too close. They don’t call them needles for nothing.