08/02/2019
Serenissima
608 Reviews
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Serenissima
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... and every now and then a white elephant
To put it in a nutshell: this fragrance is really not what I expect from this brand and under this name. I can't take this composition that seriously.
But I must admit: I find him very entertaining!
(And some perfume/-a once said: "Every fragrance deserves its comment!")
"Persia" stands for Persipan rather than Persia for me: that would explain Gelis and also my first marzipan/ bitter almond impression.
Persipan is made from apricot kernels and has a bitter, bitter note; just think of the filling of dominoes.
My housewife mind is already tending in that direction.
Even if this scent is supposed to remind of "wind blowing through the Persian deserts in summer and carrying a liquid heat and melting sweetness". (Original quote from ALzD; see there)
But in any case an oriental opulence and sweetness cannot be denied; here we meet again!
Verde di Persia" immediately abducts me to an old-fashioned fairground: one without any great rides and the now common "event culture".
Rather to a small market place, where one of the old barrel organs, reminiscent of a house façade, provides a cheerful, fair-typical background music.
Small wooden stands offer candied apples and lemon and orange slices, also dressed in sugar, which smell more sweet than fruity. The scented black currants were also covered with such a shiny coating; they are usually grown on threads.
I find the apricot, as already mentioned, rather in the persipan of some delicacies. However, dried fruit pieces may also be present in a bowl or basket. We just have to look for it.
The child in me is laughing cheerfully!
A rather strong sea of roses and osmanthus is, after all the "sweet stuff", also very generously drowned in the fragrance components of the base note.
White musk dominates and makes this fragrance creation seem rather viscous.
(Why do I remember the old-fashioned "Turkish honey"?)
"Verde di Persia" is all in all for my little nose an excursion into childhood, when everything that was colorful, sweet and sticky delighted me very much.
My mother less; she had to bring home a child completely smeared with sugar and dye, who had not infrequently overfed himself.
The durability isn't too great, which doesn't make you very sad.
But she is still enough for a ride on one of the colorful wooden carousels Rainer Maria Rilke wrote about:
"With a roof and its shadow turns
a little while of the stock
of colorful horses, all from the country,
that hesitates long before it goes down.
Some are strained on cars,
but all have courage in their faces;
an evil red lion goes with them
and every now and then a white elephant."
Perhaps "Verde di Persia" has its reason for existence by this trip into the child time.
Also I was disappointed by this creature.
But: it was beautiful - this very sweet fragrance jump deep into the past!
But I must admit: I find him very entertaining!
(And some perfume/-a once said: "Every fragrance deserves its comment!")
"Persia" stands for Persipan rather than Persia for me: that would explain Gelis and also my first marzipan/ bitter almond impression.
Persipan is made from apricot kernels and has a bitter, bitter note; just think of the filling of dominoes.
My housewife mind is already tending in that direction.
Even if this scent is supposed to remind of "wind blowing through the Persian deserts in summer and carrying a liquid heat and melting sweetness". (Original quote from ALzD; see there)
But in any case an oriental opulence and sweetness cannot be denied; here we meet again!
Verde di Persia" immediately abducts me to an old-fashioned fairground: one without any great rides and the now common "event culture".
Rather to a small market place, where one of the old barrel organs, reminiscent of a house façade, provides a cheerful, fair-typical background music.
Small wooden stands offer candied apples and lemon and orange slices, also dressed in sugar, which smell more sweet than fruity. The scented black currants were also covered with such a shiny coating; they are usually grown on threads.
I find the apricot, as already mentioned, rather in the persipan of some delicacies. However, dried fruit pieces may also be present in a bowl or basket. We just have to look for it.
The child in me is laughing cheerfully!
A rather strong sea of roses and osmanthus is, after all the "sweet stuff", also very generously drowned in the fragrance components of the base note.
White musk dominates and makes this fragrance creation seem rather viscous.
(Why do I remember the old-fashioned "Turkish honey"?)
"Verde di Persia" is all in all for my little nose an excursion into childhood, when everything that was colorful, sweet and sticky delighted me very much.
My mother less; she had to bring home a child completely smeared with sugar and dye, who had not infrequently overfed himself.
The durability isn't too great, which doesn't make you very sad.
But she is still enough for a ride on one of the colorful wooden carousels Rainer Maria Rilke wrote about:
"With a roof and its shadow turns
a little while of the stock
of colorful horses, all from the country,
that hesitates long before it goes down.
Some are strained on cars,
but all have courage in their faces;
an evil red lion goes with them
and every now and then a white elephant."
Perhaps "Verde di Persia" has its reason for existence by this trip into the child time.
Also I was disappointed by this creature.
But: it was beautiful - this very sweet fragrance jump deep into the past!
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