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Notes01/05/2020
Meggi
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Meggi
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Yes, honey! - or: a very prosperous coexistence
"Never contradict a woman - wait till she does it herself." As entertaining as this aphorism is, in its daily practical application it falls short of the mark, because for lasting success it would require appropriate insight. But as everyone knows: "...she never gives in. She just changes her mind."
The gradual maturation of such knowledge over the years of a partnership is undoubtedly desirable. However, if you are married (and I know what I'm talking about) to a "specimen" for whom 'stubborn' or 'pigheaded' can still be considered euphemistic, then if you follow the letter by letter, you will eventually sedate the whole event (and yourself!). The keywords 'purifying thunderstorm' and 'self-respect' should be kept in mind: Sometimes you have to let it come to a bang knowingly and deliberately, yes: in individual cases you even have to aim at it deliberately.
Pelargonium now gets stuck quite far ahead in this train of thought. It could be understood as a vaporized embodiment of a prosperous coexistence of feminine and masculine aspects - lipstick iris and men's spice. But then he would have lost a certain inner tension due to the (increasingly one-sided; see below) thriftiness. The one or the other peaceable companion of the two mentioned does the rest.
Even from the tube it not only smells of carrot, but also, I imagine, a lot of ISO-fresh. After application, the said carotenous iris is quickly accompanied by a men's spice, as muscatel sage and rose geranium are able to provide in a comparable character. The pepper is especially noticeable with a little distance from the skin. Mixes merrily with the subliminal limonady-woody freshness and is consequently more airy than spicy.
Our men's spice is by no means stinky or musty, on the contrary: gentle hints of warm spice and fruit create a homely atmosphere. There is also a soft, mossy, foamy, soapy touch on board, which underlines the general civilization and good order ("Yes, honey!"). I feel as if a basically conservative men's fragrance has been given a feminine stamp by lipstick iris, which in turn is somewhat artificial due to the synthetic additives
I also smell a diffuse-floral note and a well-designed artificial wood (cashmeran?) greets me from the underground. Accessories. A contribution by Vetiver from midday onwards also fails to develop any significant conciseness.
If the focus of the fragrance were indeed to be an interplay of more masculine and more feminine components, this would not be complete. Although (after a roughly balanced beginning) the iris successively outweighs the geranium, an impression which, by the way, increased from test day to test day, it still does not succeed in developing an original "splendour" - what an allegory! I suspect that the chemistry keeps the lady perseveringly fresh, but in return robs her of her characteristic bitterness. How much more exciting is the contrast in Iris Bleu Gris by Maître Parfumeur et Gantier. It's where the shreds practically fly!
It can be objected that such a thing would probably not correspond to the (as it seems to me) ethereal basic arrangement of the house of Aedes de Venustas. Maybe, but now I'm somehow stuck with "office fresh spice", which - as pleasant and fine as it is - doesn't stand out much from my point of view. Of course it is beautiful nevertheless, and you can discover a lot in it.
I know three of eight fragrances from Aedes de Venustas so far, and I still have one more sample. I think Copal Azur is great, Iris Nazarena seemed to me to be too grouchy in its pale hue, therefore less successful. Pelargonium is right in between. An "ever-right". I'm curious about Cierge de Lune
Bottom line: No, honey!
The gradual maturation of such knowledge over the years of a partnership is undoubtedly desirable. However, if you are married (and I know what I'm talking about) to a "specimen" for whom 'stubborn' or 'pigheaded' can still be considered euphemistic, then if you follow the letter by letter, you will eventually sedate the whole event (and yourself!). The keywords 'purifying thunderstorm' and 'self-respect' should be kept in mind: Sometimes you have to let it come to a bang knowingly and deliberately, yes: in individual cases you even have to aim at it deliberately.
Pelargonium now gets stuck quite far ahead in this train of thought. It could be understood as a vaporized embodiment of a prosperous coexistence of feminine and masculine aspects - lipstick iris and men's spice. But then he would have lost a certain inner tension due to the (increasingly one-sided; see below) thriftiness. The one or the other peaceable companion of the two mentioned does the rest.
Even from the tube it not only smells of carrot, but also, I imagine, a lot of ISO-fresh. After application, the said carotenous iris is quickly accompanied by a men's spice, as muscatel sage and rose geranium are able to provide in a comparable character. The pepper is especially noticeable with a little distance from the skin. Mixes merrily with the subliminal limonady-woody freshness and is consequently more airy than spicy.
Our men's spice is by no means stinky or musty, on the contrary: gentle hints of warm spice and fruit create a homely atmosphere. There is also a soft, mossy, foamy, soapy touch on board, which underlines the general civilization and good order ("Yes, honey!"). I feel as if a basically conservative men's fragrance has been given a feminine stamp by lipstick iris, which in turn is somewhat artificial due to the synthetic additives
I also smell a diffuse-floral note and a well-designed artificial wood (cashmeran?) greets me from the underground. Accessories. A contribution by Vetiver from midday onwards also fails to develop any significant conciseness.
If the focus of the fragrance were indeed to be an interplay of more masculine and more feminine components, this would not be complete. Although (after a roughly balanced beginning) the iris successively outweighs the geranium, an impression which, by the way, increased from test day to test day, it still does not succeed in developing an original "splendour" - what an allegory! I suspect that the chemistry keeps the lady perseveringly fresh, but in return robs her of her characteristic bitterness. How much more exciting is the contrast in Iris Bleu Gris by Maître Parfumeur et Gantier. It's where the shreds practically fly!
It can be objected that such a thing would probably not correspond to the (as it seems to me) ethereal basic arrangement of the house of Aedes de Venustas. Maybe, but now I'm somehow stuck with "office fresh spice", which - as pleasant and fine as it is - doesn't stand out much from my point of view. Of course it is beautiful nevertheless, and you can discover a lot in it.
I know three of eight fragrances from Aedes de Venustas so far, and I still have one more sample. I think Copal Azur is great, Iris Nazarena seemed to me to be too grouchy in its pale hue, therefore less successful. Pelargonium is right in between. An "ever-right". I'm curious about Cierge de Lune
Bottom line: No, honey!
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