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A sentimental journey
Blue Grass is the penultimate of my mother's fragrances, which have now moved in with me again.
Actually, all her scents were always a bit idiosyncratic, a bit repellent, distant in any case, sometimes a bit creaky and almost always gently melancholic.
She wore Mitsouko, Je reviens, Soir de Paris, L'air du Temps, Paloma Picasso's Mon Parfum, Jicky and Blue Grass. Jicky falls a little bit out of the line, but also only a little bit, because Jicky isn't really pleasing and catchy either. She wore Jicky only on really festive occasions and he stood her perfectly. It's still too big for me, but who knows, maybe it'll stand up to me someday.
Blue Grass is perhaps the most idiosyncratic and unwelcoming of all. I have never forgotten the scent, although I have not consciously smelled it for decades, because one day you could no longer buy Blue Grass. Just like that. So she used up her leftovers, and that's it. The fact that there was a new edition of Blue Grass at some point passed her (and me too - back then I just wore perfumes without any deeper interest).
Only here on Parfumo did I come across the name again and was able to remember the old scent colour, the sound of the scent, so familiarly that it was soon no longer a question: Should I encounter Blue Grass at any time at good conditions, then I will take it to myself - including the new version
And now it's here, the new version and I'm really surprised: It's so much in line with my scent memory that I'd probably need the direct comparison to spot differences.
The top note is as characteristic as before: very cool, cloudy, with a matt texture. Brittle and distanced lavender dominates, with strong soapiness and something herbaceous. Lily? I might. Rosengeranium? I'm sure it is. If I should assign a face, then it would be that of Greta Garbo, shaded look, flawless marble features, latent sadness.
The heart becomes spicier and softer in slow motion, the vetiver, with which I am not really good at, is perfectly arranged and is able to integrate and complement the spice with a hint of delicate grassy sweetness. A little powder, some soap. Gently. Melancholic.
A sentimental jorney.
I read flowery-green in the perfume description. No, that's not Blue Grass. Flowery-green, that sounds like light-hearted summeriness, like laughter of happy afternoons in nature or in the garden, like youthful freshness.
Blue Grass is ageless, cool, soft grey and gently fogged. And unmistakably quiet.