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Heart Notes 
Base Notes 
07/29/2020
Mikadomann
11 Reviews
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Mikadomann
Top Review
33
"L'important c'est la rose"
"L'important c'est la rose"
"What really counts is the rose...", so freely one could translate the title of the chanson by Louis Amade and Gilbert Bécaud from 1967.
Loss of love, striving for success and loneliness are sketched out in the text in a few lines, only to state at the end of each verse and to counter the dreariness: "What really counts is the rose...".
"Lyric Man" -
For me, it's from the beginning: Rose!
Yes, one may perceive a slight citric note in the head at the very beginning.
Maybe there's a hint of lime. Maybe bergamot plays into the top note.
But that's beside the point.
For me, it's from the beginning: Rose!
And: for me it is beauty and pure joy from the very beginning!
And I understand: "L'important c'est la rose..."
Although the reference note, the rose, moves so quickly to the centre of attention, it remains by no means clear to me. The fragrance is challenging, does not remain flat and one-dimensional. Because there's something there immediately that you have to smell.
And as you immerse yourself in the fragrance, a rose emerges - a rose.
This rose blooms silvery white and delicate.
Its petals are translucent, delicate, the wind moves them as it passes over them lukewarmly and when you look through one of the petals you can still see the outlines of things.
It is indeed a lyrical rose.
I catch my breath and feel: "L'important c'est la rose..."
In the delicacy of this rose, the opulence and natural power of its fragrance are strong, surprising and breathtaking.
How can something so transient, gentle, airy smell so seductive, crystal clear and confident?
Through the fragrance the rose.
She's getting into position:
I'm here.
Smell me!
Don't think you'll understand me so quickly.
Notice me.
Really notice me!
Cause remember:
"L'important c'est la rose!"
And then it happens:
The silver-white flowers suddenly show green sprinkles and these also manifest themselves in the fragrance.
Can it be? Or is it the dark green leaves on the dark green stems?
Suddenly the opulence of the rose scent takes a back seat.
One almost has the impression that this dark green scent is even more engaging than the rose scent itself.
Like a congenial break, like an antithesis to the rose, a further basic tone develops, which takes over and covers up the tenderness of the rose and at the same time emphasizes it again.
For this rose will never be lost.
The two notes do not fight with each other, they rather caress each other, dance with each other, try to support the other and let it shine.
Silvery white and damp dark green: a dance of scents, a chord of colours.
A cascade of fireworks is building up in my head!
Exploding in the air, this cascade of silver threads flows towards the ground, until suddenly dark green spikes flash at the ends of these threads of fire.
And another one!
This time, however, bright dark green light strips, which unexpectedly end up glittering silver. In the splendour of sparks a coloured veil.
The rhythm becomes faster, alternating colors, one after the other, with each other, overlapping.
Only moments, fractions of a second often. Swelling, tilting, crescendo, harmony, soft tones .. Fireworks of scent. And colours in the head. And sound.
But the rose always remains as a leitmotif.
Because:
"L'important c'est la rose!"
And as you surrender to this fragrance frenzy, you suddenly understand that this fragrance is so much more complex than you first thought. Because suddenly the top note becomes important again, when the lime shines through again and again in the heart and base. Whether the dark green notes are due to the angelica or the galbanum, I don't know. In the heart note I very gently perceive saffron.
In the end, in my case after about 8 hours, the fragrance becomes quiet. Then I perceive a soft, gentle sweetness that reminds me of Amyris. Maybe it's the sandalwood, too.
Then the rose seems to get darker.
It does not change the colour. Just the sound.
At the very end she plays out her full beauty once again. In the last moments, very close up, she becomes gentle once more.
And at that moment the rose gains the upper hand.
She lies there on an empty stage, just before the curtain closes.
The last light on her.
Everything else has disappeared.
"L'important c'est la rose, crois-mois..."
"What really counts is the rose...", so freely one could translate the title of the chanson by Louis Amade and Gilbert Bécaud from 1967.
Loss of love, striving for success and loneliness are sketched out in the text in a few lines, only to state at the end of each verse and to counter the dreariness: "What really counts is the rose...".
"Lyric Man" -
For me, it's from the beginning: Rose!
Yes, one may perceive a slight citric note in the head at the very beginning.
Maybe there's a hint of lime. Maybe bergamot plays into the top note.
But that's beside the point.
For me, it's from the beginning: Rose!
And: for me it is beauty and pure joy from the very beginning!
And I understand: "L'important c'est la rose..."
Although the reference note, the rose, moves so quickly to the centre of attention, it remains by no means clear to me. The fragrance is challenging, does not remain flat and one-dimensional. Because there's something there immediately that you have to smell.
And as you immerse yourself in the fragrance, a rose emerges - a rose.
This rose blooms silvery white and delicate.
Its petals are translucent, delicate, the wind moves them as it passes over them lukewarmly and when you look through one of the petals you can still see the outlines of things.
It is indeed a lyrical rose.
I catch my breath and feel: "L'important c'est la rose..."
In the delicacy of this rose, the opulence and natural power of its fragrance are strong, surprising and breathtaking.
How can something so transient, gentle, airy smell so seductive, crystal clear and confident?
Through the fragrance the rose.
She's getting into position:
I'm here.
Smell me!
Don't think you'll understand me so quickly.
Notice me.
Really notice me!
Cause remember:
"L'important c'est la rose!"
And then it happens:
The silver-white flowers suddenly show green sprinkles and these also manifest themselves in the fragrance.
Can it be? Or is it the dark green leaves on the dark green stems?
Suddenly the opulence of the rose scent takes a back seat.
One almost has the impression that this dark green scent is even more engaging than the rose scent itself.
Like a congenial break, like an antithesis to the rose, a further basic tone develops, which takes over and covers up the tenderness of the rose and at the same time emphasizes it again.
For this rose will never be lost.
The two notes do not fight with each other, they rather caress each other, dance with each other, try to support the other and let it shine.
Silvery white and damp dark green: a dance of scents, a chord of colours.
A cascade of fireworks is building up in my head!
Exploding in the air, this cascade of silver threads flows towards the ground, until suddenly dark green spikes flash at the ends of these threads of fire.
And another one!
This time, however, bright dark green light strips, which unexpectedly end up glittering silver. In the splendour of sparks a coloured veil.
The rhythm becomes faster, alternating colors, one after the other, with each other, overlapping.
Only moments, fractions of a second often. Swelling, tilting, crescendo, harmony, soft tones .. Fireworks of scent. And colours in the head. And sound.
But the rose always remains as a leitmotif.
Because:
"L'important c'est la rose!"
And as you surrender to this fragrance frenzy, you suddenly understand that this fragrance is so much more complex than you first thought. Because suddenly the top note becomes important again, when the lime shines through again and again in the heart and base. Whether the dark green notes are due to the angelica or the galbanum, I don't know. In the heart note I very gently perceive saffron.
In the end, in my case after about 8 hours, the fragrance becomes quiet. Then I perceive a soft, gentle sweetness that reminds me of Amyris. Maybe it's the sandalwood, too.
Then the rose seems to get darker.
It does not change the colour. Just the sound.
At the very end she plays out her full beauty once again. In the last moments, very close up, she becomes gentle once more.
And at that moment the rose gains the upper hand.
She lies there on an empty stage, just before the curtain closes.
The last light on her.
Everything else has disappeared.
"L'important c'est la rose, crois-mois..."
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