01/18/2021
Sniffsniff
20 Reviews
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Sniffsniff
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Under my Amberella
I was annoyed. So annoyed. You know what that's like? That latent annoyance. You read and read, read for days. Pyramids. Up and down. It's enough to make any Egyptologist pale with envy. So many beautiful pyramids. And then you pick one. Eureka. The pyramid of your unfulfilled perfume dreams. The one that holds everything you've ever dreamed of in a pyramid. This is the one you need in your exquisite little pyramid collection. And SUBITO!
And then the mailman comes and drops a small, innocent padded envelope into your mailbox. Drooling and with fluttering lips, you rush out, immediately shredding the carefully sealed packaging and greedily spraying the first drops of the much longed-for dream pyramid onto the back of your hand while still in the hallway, as if in a trance. Instinctively you raise your hand in the air and ... ZONK! Well. While your chaps, yielding to gravity and disappointment, are still trying to find their way down, you're already wondering how a scent so positively perceived by so many people can be so heaven-defyingly mediocre. And why did that damn pyramid lie so brazenly? And you know what? If only it had been that one time ....
But no. The more you test, the less you like. Probably you have become more demanding, no longer let every old Ambrocashmeralonemaltolfusel underjubeln. And that's where the misery begins.
Do you smell that? This base? Yes, exactly! I mean this Baaah-sis from space musk, which ensures that we all smell a bit like Hans-Jürgens old sweatshirt after the fabric softener bath. I'm going to put on my hat. What a nice hobby we've got - you and me. And it costs real money! It's okay to fly off the handle. Frustration tolerance is finally not everyone in the cradle been put.
But I do not only want to grumble here, is also permanently nix for the mental balance. And makes wrinkles - except for me, of course. Sometimes it comes quite differently. Since the corners of the mouth can then also times point in the direction of the ceiling. I'm sure you've had that from time to time. It happened to me just recently, when a small, inconspicuous atomizer rolled out of one of those hastily shredded envelope remnants.
Gucci was written on it. Good, that can be nasty in the eye. They can do nice scents. Undoubtedly. But unfortunately, they often create quite unabashedly the complete opposite. The Eyes of the Tiger. Mon Dieu. We're fishing in lyrical botanical waters here. If one applies too thickly with the naming, I am gladly directly on confrontation. It's like with kids. When eight-year-old Quentin-Cassian is being a jerk about tying his shoes, I have a hard time applauding, too.
But no, Gucci has a concept, of course. I just say: Amber. For the Chinese in faraway China, the amber symbolizes namely the soul of the tiger. And what in turn is considered the mirror of the soul? Yes. You see, we've come full circle and we've clarified why this (I'm just going to shout it bluntly to the world) fantastically beautiful, softly vanilla and cuddly-soft resinous amber fragrance is called what it is. And you know what the most beautiful thing is? Nothing here annoys me at all. And that's saying something. I usually jump out of my tux right away. The slightest thing that's not exactly where I want it to be... These tiger eyes are the purest sedative for my sanguine nature, they comfort, they envelop, they give warmth and security. Not a tiny bit of synthetic, nothing! A spherical, deeply harmonious fragrance whose exceptionally natural feel also justifies its (well, exorbitantly high) price. Or let's put it better this way: Compared to other immoderately overpriced fragrances, "The Eyes of the Tiger" smells significantly more premium.
When I decided to comment on this fragrance this morning, I equipped myself with four spirited sprays from the small test atomizer and headed to the barn. Drizzle, just above freezing. A soft resinous sweetness envelops me as I make my way across the fields. The weather is secondary. The scent warms me. Rain? So what? It protects me. And it does so without the specific amber heaviness that is inherent in so many heavily ambered perfumes and which I hate so abysmally. Let's face it - that viscous amber sensation that likes to have that little pinch of animalic in it ... it's no good. Ugh! I'm annoyed again. When I breathe, it feels as if some whiz kid has gelled the air. But no need to worry. The tiger eyes are free of gelatin and cougar cage. The overall scent progression is quite linear and unspectacular. Again, the scent stays true to its calm, grounded aura. The feathery resinousness of the top note gradually transitions into what must be the most beautiful vanilla base I know. As it does so, I detect a very slight powderiness that never becomes dry or sultry, but merely prevents the scent from drifting to the sticky, heavy side of vanilla. The sweetness I feel thereby as perfectly balanced and never annoying.
Oh, if you now expect 'nen Wummser with Totschlägersillage, because you absolutely want that the entire northern hemisphere can participate in your good perfume taste, I have to disappoint you unfortunately. You'll have to go to Louis - he's got something there.
You see, I really like it. It's a balm for my irritated soul. A fragrance for arriving, for being with oneself, not a fragrance for the road, a target fragrance. A therapeutic scent. Perfect for treating acute pyramid trauma. Did you notice? It doesn't have any
And then the mailman comes and drops a small, innocent padded envelope into your mailbox. Drooling and with fluttering lips, you rush out, immediately shredding the carefully sealed packaging and greedily spraying the first drops of the much longed-for dream pyramid onto the back of your hand while still in the hallway, as if in a trance. Instinctively you raise your hand in the air and ... ZONK! Well. While your chaps, yielding to gravity and disappointment, are still trying to find their way down, you're already wondering how a scent so positively perceived by so many people can be so heaven-defyingly mediocre. And why did that damn pyramid lie so brazenly? And you know what? If only it had been that one time ....
But no. The more you test, the less you like. Probably you have become more demanding, no longer let every old Ambrocashmeralonemaltolfusel underjubeln. And that's where the misery begins.
Do you smell that? This base? Yes, exactly! I mean this Baaah-sis from space musk, which ensures that we all smell a bit like Hans-Jürgens old sweatshirt after the fabric softener bath. I'm going to put on my hat. What a nice hobby we've got - you and me. And it costs real money! It's okay to fly off the handle. Frustration tolerance is finally not everyone in the cradle been put.
But I do not only want to grumble here, is also permanently nix for the mental balance. And makes wrinkles - except for me, of course. Sometimes it comes quite differently. Since the corners of the mouth can then also times point in the direction of the ceiling. I'm sure you've had that from time to time. It happened to me just recently, when a small, inconspicuous atomizer rolled out of one of those hastily shredded envelope remnants.
Gucci was written on it. Good, that can be nasty in the eye. They can do nice scents. Undoubtedly. But unfortunately, they often create quite unabashedly the complete opposite. The Eyes of the Tiger. Mon Dieu. We're fishing in lyrical botanical waters here. If one applies too thickly with the naming, I am gladly directly on confrontation. It's like with kids. When eight-year-old Quentin-Cassian is being a jerk about tying his shoes, I have a hard time applauding, too.
But no, Gucci has a concept, of course. I just say: Amber. For the Chinese in faraway China, the amber symbolizes namely the soul of the tiger. And what in turn is considered the mirror of the soul? Yes. You see, we've come full circle and we've clarified why this (I'm just going to shout it bluntly to the world) fantastically beautiful, softly vanilla and cuddly-soft resinous amber fragrance is called what it is. And you know what the most beautiful thing is? Nothing here annoys me at all. And that's saying something. I usually jump out of my tux right away. The slightest thing that's not exactly where I want it to be... These tiger eyes are the purest sedative for my sanguine nature, they comfort, they envelop, they give warmth and security. Not a tiny bit of synthetic, nothing! A spherical, deeply harmonious fragrance whose exceptionally natural feel also justifies its (well, exorbitantly high) price. Or let's put it better this way: Compared to other immoderately overpriced fragrances, "The Eyes of the Tiger" smells significantly more premium.
When I decided to comment on this fragrance this morning, I equipped myself with four spirited sprays from the small test atomizer and headed to the barn. Drizzle, just above freezing. A soft resinous sweetness envelops me as I make my way across the fields. The weather is secondary. The scent warms me. Rain? So what? It protects me. And it does so without the specific amber heaviness that is inherent in so many heavily ambered perfumes and which I hate so abysmally. Let's face it - that viscous amber sensation that likes to have that little pinch of animalic in it ... it's no good. Ugh! I'm annoyed again. When I breathe, it feels as if some whiz kid has gelled the air. But no need to worry. The tiger eyes are free of gelatin and cougar cage. The overall scent progression is quite linear and unspectacular. Again, the scent stays true to its calm, grounded aura. The feathery resinousness of the top note gradually transitions into what must be the most beautiful vanilla base I know. As it does so, I detect a very slight powderiness that never becomes dry or sultry, but merely prevents the scent from drifting to the sticky, heavy side of vanilla. The sweetness I feel thereby as perfectly balanced and never annoying.
Oh, if you now expect 'nen Wummser with Totschlägersillage, because you absolutely want that the entire northern hemisphere can participate in your good perfume taste, I have to disappoint you unfortunately. You'll have to go to Louis - he's got something there.
You see, I really like it. It's a balm for my irritated soul. A fragrance for arriving, for being with oneself, not a fragrance for the road, a target fragrance. A therapeutic scent. Perfect for treating acute pyramid trauma. Did you notice? It doesn't have any
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