04/17/2021

Mourant
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Mourant
Very helpful Review
14
Bittersweet
The short and concise name BLACK sums up this perfume. Pepper, smoke, leather, birch tar, smoldering wood, a black symphony, all infused from start to finish with the underlying, unobtrusive sweetness of licorice, giving the collected darkness a soft break and sensual appeal.
Fortunately, I cannot smell or confirm gourmand barbecue associations mentioned by some reviewers here. Rather, I perceive a radical, yet elegant fragrance. A pretty punk in black velvet. Ambivalence.
Not only do I think BLACK is a unique scent, but I quickly discovered an emotional connection to it. It smells to me like a friend that I connect with a lot. My brother at heart, my lover only in rare moments that are fleeting as smoke.
Crypt punk, lean and striking, big dark eyes in black-smeared sockets, dark hair, shaggy mohawk, scuffed leather coat, heavy boots, all black. Heroin addict. The relationship with him bittersweet, as addicts often are. A contradictory swell, one moment connection, fun, sympathy, affection, closeness, unfortunately always followed by disappointment in some form or another. One is tossed back and forth between hope, sympathy, disillusionment, sadness and anger within a toxic relationship.
Every time I just smell the bottle of BLACK, it's like this friend's shadow is visiting me. I can't be as close to him as I would like. But when I put BLACK on, his ghost is there, the memory of his distinctive leathery scent and the cloying smoke of his hair in my pillow that, regrettably, fades much more quickly, leaving me with longing. BLACK is my little harmless heroin. It quenches the longing, the (craving) addictive pressure, enveloping me with its warmth until, after eight to twelve hours, it's time for.... cold turkey or the next fix.
Fortunately, I cannot smell or confirm gourmand barbecue associations mentioned by some reviewers here. Rather, I perceive a radical, yet elegant fragrance. A pretty punk in black velvet. Ambivalence.
Not only do I think BLACK is a unique scent, but I quickly discovered an emotional connection to it. It smells to me like a friend that I connect with a lot. My brother at heart, my lover only in rare moments that are fleeting as smoke.
Crypt punk, lean and striking, big dark eyes in black-smeared sockets, dark hair, shaggy mohawk, scuffed leather coat, heavy boots, all black. Heroin addict. The relationship with him bittersweet, as addicts often are. A contradictory swell, one moment connection, fun, sympathy, affection, closeness, unfortunately always followed by disappointment in some form or another. One is tossed back and forth between hope, sympathy, disillusionment, sadness and anger within a toxic relationship.
Every time I just smell the bottle of BLACK, it's like this friend's shadow is visiting me. I can't be as close to him as I would like. But when I put BLACK on, his ghost is there, the memory of his distinctive leathery scent and the cloying smoke of his hair in my pillow that, regrettably, fades much more quickly, leaving me with longing. BLACK is my little harmless heroin. It quenches the longing, the (craving) addictive pressure, enveloping me with its warmth until, after eight to twelve hours, it's time for.... cold turkey or the next fix.
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