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05/22/2020
FvSpee
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FvSpee
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Colonia instead of Corona, No. 12: A stream springs up in Eden to water the garden.
Strictly speaking, "Eau de Guerlain" does not qualify for this series, as the manufacturer does not refer to it as "Cologne", but as Eau de Toilette. However, it is treated as a Cologne almost all the time and belongs together with Cologne du Parfumeur, Cologne du Coq and Cologne Impériale to the "Les Eaux" series of the house of Guerlain, which justifies a guest appearance at this point.
Since we are already on the subject, it should be mentioned in advance that the shelf life of this fragrance is long compared to a classic cologne, but short for a toilet water: about two hours of active (moderately room-filling) projection plus two to three hours of skin-near residuals I make up.
The spring discharge of this water is brilliant: despite tiny traces of sweet sorbet creamy texture, it is a hard crystalline, extremely (near sterility) clean, white-yellow citric with a slight masculine touch. Voilà. That sits. Here a paragraph must follow; this statement must stand on its own, because this is the essential first impression, which is probably the most important one with a (quasi-) cologne.
Basil and caraway from the top note, carnation and sandal from the heart and moss from the base could suggest that this Guerlain water is experiencing a twist towards the green powerhouse masculinity of the 80s or brown spice cologne of the 60s and earlier decades. But there is no sign of this. In my perception, all these notes only lead to adjusting the brightly glistening citric even sharper, with as it were overdrawn contrasts.
This is impressive and certainly effective cooling at high temperatures, but it touches the boundaries of monomania a little bit. After about half an hour to an hour, however, an unexpected drift towards a not only grassy but almost lazy green-Indolic note sets in, reminding me of the highly controversial, often muggy and threatening "Eden" scent by Cacharel.
Since Eden is a nominal Nineties, but I have always felt it to be a Soul Seventies, also in the design of the bottle and box, this fits the release year 1974 of this fragrance here: The year of the forced resignations of Nixon and Brandt, the death of Pompidou in office, the revolutions and coups in Ethiopia, Portugal, Greece and other places
This turn to the swampy, which I attribute to the triad of jasmine, patchouli and rose (which also occurs in "Eden") is now a highly surprising development after the almost rigidly radiant citric of the beginning, but I would have perhaps gladly done without it. It doesn't seem to suit summery fresh water any more than the strange stab (or houndstooth) into the dirty-animalistic that I hear in Eau du Coq.
It is a little consoling that the powdery-dry freshness of the final phase, which is very close to the skin, is much better behaved and more tolerable.
I may only give three points for the name because I find it too boring (or, to speak with Horst-Kevin, too venereal).
Call for a search as an appendix:
I have collected some ideas which fragrances could still be treated in this series, which is dedicated to the classic, fresh, light (usually citric) colognes.
And I'm thinking of starting another series to explore the world of "brown colognes" at some point: fragrances that go by the name of "cologne" or "eau de cologne" and also have a fresh aspect, but are richly enriched with leather, spice or barbershop notes.
For both series, the current one and the one that may follow, no completeness is of course intended. Rather a representative selection of beautiful, interesting, distinctive fragrances. An appropriate representation of expensive and cheap products and those from several scent nations (I think, especially the "brown colognes" should be strongly represented in America and Spain).
My previous collection of ideas I have stored in my collection under "Colonia instead of Corona open" and under "Series brown Colognes planned". I would be very grateful for good ideas for the extension of this card box, either by PN, pinboard, or here under the comment. Thanks in advance.
Since we are already on the subject, it should be mentioned in advance that the shelf life of this fragrance is long compared to a classic cologne, but short for a toilet water: about two hours of active (moderately room-filling) projection plus two to three hours of skin-near residuals I make up.
The spring discharge of this water is brilliant: despite tiny traces of sweet sorbet creamy texture, it is a hard crystalline, extremely (near sterility) clean, white-yellow citric with a slight masculine touch. Voilà. That sits. Here a paragraph must follow; this statement must stand on its own, because this is the essential first impression, which is probably the most important one with a (quasi-) cologne.
Basil and caraway from the top note, carnation and sandal from the heart and moss from the base could suggest that this Guerlain water is experiencing a twist towards the green powerhouse masculinity of the 80s or brown spice cologne of the 60s and earlier decades. But there is no sign of this. In my perception, all these notes only lead to adjusting the brightly glistening citric even sharper, with as it were overdrawn contrasts.
This is impressive and certainly effective cooling at high temperatures, but it touches the boundaries of monomania a little bit. After about half an hour to an hour, however, an unexpected drift towards a not only grassy but almost lazy green-Indolic note sets in, reminding me of the highly controversial, often muggy and threatening "Eden" scent by Cacharel.
Since Eden is a nominal Nineties, but I have always felt it to be a Soul Seventies, also in the design of the bottle and box, this fits the release year 1974 of this fragrance here: The year of the forced resignations of Nixon and Brandt, the death of Pompidou in office, the revolutions and coups in Ethiopia, Portugal, Greece and other places
This turn to the swampy, which I attribute to the triad of jasmine, patchouli and rose (which also occurs in "Eden") is now a highly surprising development after the almost rigidly radiant citric of the beginning, but I would have perhaps gladly done without it. It doesn't seem to suit summery fresh water any more than the strange stab (or houndstooth) into the dirty-animalistic that I hear in Eau du Coq.
It is a little consoling that the powdery-dry freshness of the final phase, which is very close to the skin, is much better behaved and more tolerable.
I may only give three points for the name because I find it too boring (or, to speak with Horst-Kevin, too venereal).
Call for a search as an appendix:
I have collected some ideas which fragrances could still be treated in this series, which is dedicated to the classic, fresh, light (usually citric) colognes.
And I'm thinking of starting another series to explore the world of "brown colognes" at some point: fragrances that go by the name of "cologne" or "eau de cologne" and also have a fresh aspect, but are richly enriched with leather, spice or barbershop notes.
For both series, the current one and the one that may follow, no completeness is of course intended. Rather a representative selection of beautiful, interesting, distinctive fragrances. An appropriate representation of expensive and cheap products and those from several scent nations (I think, especially the "brown colognes" should be strongly represented in America and Spain).
My previous collection of ideas I have stored in my collection under "Colonia instead of Corona open" and under "Series brown Colognes planned". I would be very grateful for good ideas for the extension of this card box, either by PN, pinboard, or here under the comment. Thanks in advance.
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