Dulcemio

The more I get to know Theorema, the more it reminds me of very strong and expensive pot pourri. (Mind you, this is not an insult - there is some fantastic pot pourri out there!) This is no doubt because the citrus I perceive is not citrus fruit but rather dried citrus peels.

This startling blend of dried orange peels, strong spices, resin, woods and flowers certainly deserves its cult status as a beloved discontinued, though it has a slightly astringent or acidic quality that prevents it from being on my list of smooth "comfort" scents. And that might be simply due to the absence of vanilla, the great smooth-a-fier. Even though I don't crave it extremely often, I feel good about the future knowing I've got a stash to last my lifetime.

Looking at the 1998 Fendi Fall/Winter fashion collection, I wonder if Theorema, with its warm, spicy, acidic sunshine, was created to cut through all the dark neutrality of that haute couture and be the yin to its yang. If so, it did certainly succeed.

Smooth, clean and elegant perfume in an inelegant bottle.
The pricetag belies the quality of the liquid inside.
Compliments, so many, many compliments.
"Excuse me Miss, may I ask what perfume you're wearing?"
The definition of unisex.
The perfect musk.
Gorgeous.

A classic 80's-style perfume, dominated by carnation, along the same lines as Dior Poison, but minus the dark and intimidating presence of incense in Poison. Asja's lovely fruits and honey, grounded by a very subtle woodiness, make it much sweeter, softer and more wearable than Poison, though they are definitely kissing cousins.

Though carnation is not one of my favorite notes, I do enjoy it in some fragrances where it is very well blended with the other notes, where it is allowed to complement rather than completely overpower them. Moschino by Moschino is one, and now Asja.

I have a mini, and I won't be rushing out to buy a bottle at the current inflated discontinued prices because I'm not THAT crazy about carnation, (even though I would LOVE to get my hands on that cool looking bottle!), but for anyone who is particularly fond of carnation, I think you might at least enjoy having a mini, just to have a little bit of this delightful liquid at your disposal.

On paper, Organza's list of notes reads like something I should run from as though my life depended on it, given the fact it contains every white floral in existence (okay, that's an exageration, but not much of one!), but because of its masterful use of all the other notes in conjunction with the florals, it is an enchanting, sweet, woody, nutty, slightly floral spice bomb with a very classic feel.

There is SO much going on here, it really is one of those kitchen sink fragrances (as in "everything but the . . . "), with the very edible notes of nutmeg, walnut and vanilla, swirling together with all those flowers, citrus and woods, and yet Organza doesn't feel confused, nor does it suffer from too many disparate notes competing for attention.

In fact, given the strong presence of white florals, this has to be one of the most masterful blending accomplishments in the history of perfumery, for me (bona fide non-white floral enthusiast that I am) to love it like I do, and it to feel as rich, cozy, warm and inviting as it does.

A classic blend fit for a lady in a beautiful evening gown, or for a regular gal (like me) in office attire, sitting at her desk. It's all good.

Dominated by jasmine, bergamot and patchouli, with a dash of coriander, it feels refreshing to me, like a cool summer salad with an avant-garde twist.

I usually avoid white florals that lack vanilla and spice to, well, drown out the white flowers (think Organza), so when I received a mini of White Patchouli as a gift I did not expect to let it stay on my skin all day. But I got busy and didn't get around to washing it off, and was pleasantly surprised when I began to enjoy it.

It's a soft, sheer, luxurious veil of a perfume with an earthy undertone that prevents it from being just another girly white floral.