02/25/2020
Parfümlein
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Parfümlein
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... "The woods rushed softly, the night was so starry...
I always have to think of Eichendorff's moon night when I see or smell "L'eau d'hiver", even if Eichendorff rather describes a spring night. I see this starry night in winter and hear the forests rustle, I see an almost black sky, thousands of stars, it is a freezing cold night, I walk across a field, the hoarfrost crackles under my feet, my breath steams, from an open barn cows look in my direction. It's a clear February night Of course, I could think of something else when I'm at L'eau d'hiver. I do not want to say that the perfume smells of snow, of cold, of ice. But the name and the crystal clear liquid exert their well-considered effect on me, which I cannot escape. I can't help but notice the swirling up of powder snow in this fresh prelude of bergamot, hawthorn and probably Angelica, and the fragrant but fragranceless surface of freshly fallen snow in the powdery heart of iris, jasmine and heliotrope. I am unable to interpret the perfectly soft notes of honey and caramel, which I perceive vaguely but never penetrate, and the musk and the delicate carnation (if that is what I consider to be very delicately flowery) differently than as the scent of my own winter-warm, sweetly perfumed, breathing skin. I can't help but associate myself outside, coming from the warm interior of a well-heated room, on this freezing cold night.
A large part of these performances is certainly due to the absolute gentleness and the low sillage of the scent, which on the whole is so restrained on the skin that it is more of a breath than a perfume; this almost odourless state, which is only now and then, but over many, many hours, interrupted by a slight blow in my direction, is in nature most likely to be found in snow; in any other weather situation, nature has its own intense scent, which I can perceive, just as the city can never be odourless. Even under water, if one could breathe there, at least salt, animal notes would be perceptible. Only snow smells of almost nothing but itself - purest water with perhaps a minimal metallic powdery undertone. That's why the delicacy of L'Eau d'hiver, which blends perfectly with the skin, can never be anything other than a clear, cold starry night for me, and that's why I really love the fragrance
A large part of these performances is certainly due to the absolute gentleness and the low sillage of the scent, which on the whole is so restrained on the skin that it is more of a breath than a perfume; this almost odourless state, which is only now and then, but over many, many hours, interrupted by a slight blow in my direction, is in nature most likely to be found in snow; in any other weather situation, nature has its own intense scent, which I can perceive, just as the city can never be odourless. Even under water, if one could breathe there, at least salt, animal notes would be perceptible. Only snow smells of almost nothing but itself - purest water with perhaps a minimal metallic powdery undertone. That's why the delicacy of L'Eau d'hiver, which blends perfectly with the skin, can never be anything other than a clear, cold starry night for me, and that's why I really love the fragrance
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