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Notes08/12/2018
Serenissima
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Serenissima
Top Review
10
a summer walk
So early on Sunday morning even the big city still sleeps and invites to a morning walk.
But in search of a suitable morning fragrance, I come across "Aria di Capri" and like to be kidnapped to this sunny island.
Deep silence surrounds me; far away is the soft noise of the sea, the sun is still mercifully warming and hugging, but not yet so burning hot.
The first thing the trail does is through a citrus plantation that is not only planted on one side, but also contains a slight confusion of varieties: how beautiful! Thus the different and yet so related aromas mix with each other in the finest way.
The freshness of the lemon dominates immediately here, of course, but is steamed in a rather elegant way by Petitgrain with a slight hint of orange.
She loses her leading role, because the bergamot also wants to play in the triad of scents.
The result is an aromatically fresh fragrance that is not scratchy or biting, but flows quietly and beautifully, caressed by the morning sun.
While this fine citrus scent is still caressing my senses, I stroll through a garden: a flower garden, with a slightly rustic touch. Nothing stands neatly in line, everything grows a bit arbitrarily - the effect is not only visually intoxicating, it also makes almost breathless, in view of this perfume.
A late mimosa stands here beside the rose geranium: both not exactly sisters in the fragrance, but nevertheless amazingly harmonious and mutually respectful. The slight astringency, which both radiate, blends with the top note of "Aria di Capri" on the most pleasant.
The large white flowers greet in abundance from the wooden jasmine trellis. So early in the morning they add a residual scent of the night to the slightly pastoral painting; their aroma is no longer really intoxicatingly strong.
Jasmine says "Buongiorno" here in "the most arty" (as Goethe would surely say) and thus embellishes the pleasure I have experienced so far.
But the many roses do not hold themselves back at all: fully blooms, although still night drunk, they exude their smell wastefully.
This could easily make this fragrance creation tip over; but the other fragrances, which have already found their place here, also show the roses that they have to play a fine part in the concert of aromas and that apparently the position of "first violin" was not filled at all here.
Our garden is connected to a kind of wilderness that gently rises towards the light and the increasing day.
Laurel! Here it grows wild, strong, loud and oily.
The Apollo, transformed into a laurel tree, can also be integrated into the chorus of fragrances.
He does it a little bulky; which is not surprising: finally he - Apollo - was transformed by the river god Peneios into a laurel tree, since he could not stop pursuing his daughter, the nymph Daphne, in hot love (see Ovid's Metamorphoses). This teaches us to pay special attention to fathers of daughters.
Against this background it is clear that Lorbeer will never be a cuddly little guy, but always wants to fall a little out of the role.
Here he does it by adding his strong spice to "Aria di Capri"; with it the flattering, gentle of the previous melange of fragrances becomes a little coarser, yes, actually a little rustic.
The scent now corresponds to the surroundings; the walk leads a little over stick and stone, but is still a pure nasal treat.
The power of the sun is sufficient to elicit the special spiciness of the cedars.
This is skillfully inserted into this ambience; also the musk adapts surprisingly well.
At first I was skeptical: Musk and I - at the moment a "theme in variations".
But Signora Tonatto has succeeded in mixing all the scents in "Aria di Capri" in a balanced way.
The result is a fresh, flowery and also pleasantly spicy fragrance composition.
Nothing great that makes the world of perfumers cry out, but a fine companion that adapts and deepens the joy of the first hours of a summer day.
This is how I feel about "Aria di Capri": the freshness of the night still dampens the heat to be expected, but nature already shines washed and still pure and generously exudes its aromatic scents.
"Aria di Capri" is my morning walk today, leading through the distant ringing of the church bells towards breakfast on a splendid southern terrace shaded by a pergola covered with vine leaves.
Now it is time to meet this day - and to enjoy what is already with you.
Good morning, Fragrance World! Good morning, perfumers!
"Buongiorno Santa Domenica!"
But in search of a suitable morning fragrance, I come across "Aria di Capri" and like to be kidnapped to this sunny island.
Deep silence surrounds me; far away is the soft noise of the sea, the sun is still mercifully warming and hugging, but not yet so burning hot.
The first thing the trail does is through a citrus plantation that is not only planted on one side, but also contains a slight confusion of varieties: how beautiful! Thus the different and yet so related aromas mix with each other in the finest way.
The freshness of the lemon dominates immediately here, of course, but is steamed in a rather elegant way by Petitgrain with a slight hint of orange.
She loses her leading role, because the bergamot also wants to play in the triad of scents.
The result is an aromatically fresh fragrance that is not scratchy or biting, but flows quietly and beautifully, caressed by the morning sun.
While this fine citrus scent is still caressing my senses, I stroll through a garden: a flower garden, with a slightly rustic touch. Nothing stands neatly in line, everything grows a bit arbitrarily - the effect is not only visually intoxicating, it also makes almost breathless, in view of this perfume.
A late mimosa stands here beside the rose geranium: both not exactly sisters in the fragrance, but nevertheless amazingly harmonious and mutually respectful. The slight astringency, which both radiate, blends with the top note of "Aria di Capri" on the most pleasant.
The large white flowers greet in abundance from the wooden jasmine trellis. So early in the morning they add a residual scent of the night to the slightly pastoral painting; their aroma is no longer really intoxicatingly strong.
Jasmine says "Buongiorno" here in "the most arty" (as Goethe would surely say) and thus embellishes the pleasure I have experienced so far.
But the many roses do not hold themselves back at all: fully blooms, although still night drunk, they exude their smell wastefully.
This could easily make this fragrance creation tip over; but the other fragrances, which have already found their place here, also show the roses that they have to play a fine part in the concert of aromas and that apparently the position of "first violin" was not filled at all here.
Our garden is connected to a kind of wilderness that gently rises towards the light and the increasing day.
Laurel! Here it grows wild, strong, loud and oily.
The Apollo, transformed into a laurel tree, can also be integrated into the chorus of fragrances.
He does it a little bulky; which is not surprising: finally he - Apollo - was transformed by the river god Peneios into a laurel tree, since he could not stop pursuing his daughter, the nymph Daphne, in hot love (see Ovid's Metamorphoses). This teaches us to pay special attention to fathers of daughters.
Against this background it is clear that Lorbeer will never be a cuddly little guy, but always wants to fall a little out of the role.
Here he does it by adding his strong spice to "Aria di Capri"; with it the flattering, gentle of the previous melange of fragrances becomes a little coarser, yes, actually a little rustic.
The scent now corresponds to the surroundings; the walk leads a little over stick and stone, but is still a pure nasal treat.
The power of the sun is sufficient to elicit the special spiciness of the cedars.
This is skillfully inserted into this ambience; also the musk adapts surprisingly well.
At first I was skeptical: Musk and I - at the moment a "theme in variations".
But Signora Tonatto has succeeded in mixing all the scents in "Aria di Capri" in a balanced way.
The result is a fresh, flowery and also pleasantly spicy fragrance composition.
Nothing great that makes the world of perfumers cry out, but a fine companion that adapts and deepens the joy of the first hours of a summer day.
This is how I feel about "Aria di Capri": the freshness of the night still dampens the heat to be expected, but nature already shines washed and still pure and generously exudes its aromatic scents.
"Aria di Capri" is my morning walk today, leading through the distant ringing of the church bells towards breakfast on a splendid southern terrace shaded by a pergola covered with vine leaves.
Now it is time to meet this day - and to enjoy what is already with you.
Good morning, Fragrance World! Good morning, perfumers!
"Buongiorno Santa Domenica!"
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