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Nomadin in the autumn sun
Chloé Nomade is a love at second sight for me.
At the beginning of the Corona period I treated myself to a small bottle of it.
What can I say, it was on sale and the scent pyramid made me curious.
I'm a sucker for good cyphres, absolutely not a fan of sweet gourmand headaches and on top of that a big oakmoss fan.
Nomad sounds like a great thing. Moving through wide dunes. Sand blown in your face. Endless, white sand deserts over which a blue, burning sky stretches. You almost wish for something cool and fresh. That was the picture I had to go with it and with this one in my head I was almost a bit excited to open the small, fancy bottle and get a good splash directly on my wrist.
The beginning was fruity. The mirabelle, I thought. Wow. Fresh. Pleasant, actually. But after a few minutes, there was a sharp, pushy scratching sound. One that you can feel in the back of your nose. That makes you sneeze. One that became so unpleasant that I had to wash my arm after half an hour and banished the smell to the back corner of my bathroom cabinet.
Then came the big black hole of Corona Months. One day after the other in strange tristesse and routine, interrupted by small motivation boosts and home office.
During this time I only put on perfumes to keep my mood up. I then reached for my two safe benches that always go.
But in the last few weeks it became less and less. Also as a cost-cutting measure.
Evergreen one is empty, evergreen two is already slowly coming to an end.
But what is always possible in these times is cleaning up. So this time the bathroom was allowed to believe it. All cupboards were cleared out and wiped clean and there, in the back corner, I saw the nomad woman standing. She was a bit dusty, but still so pretty. The color of the perfume, the bottle... And six months had passed. The warm rays of the spring sun gave way to the first dancing autumn leaves And in the melancholy of the parting summer I tried it again.
I smell the fruity, light fresh mirabelle again, which is not sweet at all. Other, gently sparkling notes join in. I smell lemon and orange. My mood brightens. But I am still sceptical and a bit suspicious.
Wait for it.
And there, the smell changes. But not pungent. It takes on a fuller, more floral overtone. I smell freesia, but I also smell rose. Then there's something else that I can't quite place. It's like the fruit takes on another chord. The sting, however, is missing. No washing up. Instead, I give the scent a little more time. And my goodness, it's worth it. The oakmoss gives the nomad a woody note, but there's more. I think it's a touch of patchouli. Maybe there's something else, too. Because the fragrance gets very round at the end, it's incredibly difficult to smell out individual notes.
The fruit remains present throughout the whole process, the flowers do not become musty. It's not too sweet either.
My husband said the scent smelled elegant. Like evening dress and good wine
I hardly need to mention that the flacon has now won a new place.
There he is now. Charming, elegant and as love at second sight.
Right next to my everyman.