Bonsai by House of Matriarch
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Bonsai is a new perfume by House of Matriarch for women and men and was released in 2019. The scent is green-spicy. It is still in production.
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Perfumer

Christi Meshell

Fragrance Notes

Alligator juniper, Black copal resin, Periwinkle, Frankincense, Spices

Ratings

Scent

7.3 (17 Ratings)

Longevity

7.5 (15 Ratings)

Sillage

7.1 (15 Ratings)

Bottle

8.2 (15 Ratings)
Submitted by Ravenous, last update on 06.11.2020.

Interesting Facts

This perfume is one of the winners of the Art & Olfaction Award 2020 in the artisan category.
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Reviews

7.5
Scent
6
Longevity
6
Sillage
8
Bottle
Ropanski2020
Translated Show originalShow translation
Ropanski2020
Ropanski2020
   1  
Proliferating undergrowth
The House of Matriarch I always encounter in two ways. On the one hand, I like the concept of natural ingredients, on the other hand, the durability of the fragrances - at least on my skin - leaves a lot to be desired. Especially since the prices are so high that one can simply expect better performance. Anyway, the niche world is not always as potent as the prices try to convey to the consumer. And shipping from overseas is sometimes a thing of its own. Whatever! Br />
In relation to the present creation from 2019, I also see myself confronted with another challenge: On the one hand, it has to be clarified whether I want to count it among the most interesting fragrance compositions of the last few years, on the other hand, whether it is wearable for everyday life, whether I really want to perceive it on my skin - over a longer period of time. Quite tricky starting situation, I think!

My expectations were already quite high when I received mail from overseas. Two sprays later - the first realization: At first, the swollen nuances of earth dominate; slightly pompous the whole thing, while sunk in the deep mud you can guess the fresh contours of a trickle in the background. Interesting, although it takes some getting used to, that's my preliminary impression. I was quite surprised by the very natural, earthy grace. Because it hits you with full force! After several minutes: I feel myself going back several years, remembering the beautiful, remote hiking trails, the sometimes long marches through the thicket, the laughter of the soul. Somehow I like that, I have no equal, but one must really like this olfactory excursion into the undergrowth. Especially since no development is discernible on my skin; the sometimes slightly musty, earthy basic tenor, even though it loses its sharpness over time, remains until the end, so that, viewed as a whole, it might be considered too one-dimensional for many people, regardless of its special nature. Nevertheless, the initial question remains: Can I wear it in public?

Well, if you can get used to the idea of waking up in a valley on a hazy morning, wiping the fresh dew from your forehead after your nose has already tried to explore the damp forest floor, you will probably - or most probably - be able to get a lot out of this scent. For all the others: Caution! For me it is a straightforward niche or concept fragrance, without compromise or frills. Certainly not a fragrance that knows how to enchant the masses in everyday life, but will bring a smile or two to the lips of those who know the house.

So I can think of only a few occasions to apply it. Maybe as a preparation for the next hiking trip or as part of the next city trip, as a statement of aloofness and individuality? In any case, it has left an impression on me, that much is certain! The crux of the matter is once again the durability, which is not completely convincing for me; after about 4-5 hours the magic on my skin is over, what a pity.
8
Scent
8
Longevity
7
Sillage
7
Bottle
Floyd
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Floyd
Floyd
Top Review    22  
A moor of dog poison and amphibian wood
Probably he had gone too far this time. When Yatagan stuck his curious nose full of fascination into the earthy-morrid, damp-green moor to breathe its scent, lost in thought, watching how the aroma voluntarily fanned out into its individual components before his inner eye, dancing the individual chords to him layer by layer, whispering multi-coloured metaphors and vivid associations, so that he could write them down for posterity as the olfactory reincarnation of the Brothers Grimm in personal union, he probably realized too late that he was beginning to sink into the moor, that there would be no turning back. But there was no time for regret, because what was going on inside him was too fascinating, too exciting, for the thousands upon thousands of works of art he had mapped out in his life to be given space to pass him by in fast motion. This was now his tragedy, Bonsai, it was this diminutive title of all things that was to transport him to the extraordinary abysses of this muddy swamp.
At first the bog smelled of moss, also somewhat ethereal eucalypt in the uppermost layer. The crocodile-scaly bark of the alligator-guardian dived in the humid and warm greenish mist veils in the festering mud in front of Yatagan's eyes, rubbing its needles against the sediments of the dog poison. Already for a moment the bones of four-legged creatures passed by in the spirit, the evergreen wreaths shone over the happy faces of dancing girls. A paradox, vanitatic amazement more than a plausible explanation, perhaps already a delusional transfiguration, the muddy undertow, the scent of the hazy earth, the green of the mosses meandering into the moor swelled more strongly.
When about an hour later - or had it been a year? - the swamp closed over Yatagan, everything was initially only earthy mud, all green had now turned brown, the pyramidic origin a mystery. Do spices in dog poison and amphibian wood pretend to decompose quickly to earth? Yatagan began to leaf in the Brockhaus of his basic knowledge and then had the blue-green needles in front of his eyes again, how they turned brown, trembling in the time lapse of thinking and finally disintegrated to earth.
After two hours - or had it been years? - incense was clearly perceptible, balsamic and sweet, the Arabic resin offered the chord dancing with the earth, making the protagonist smile blissfully. Further hours or years later, the smoke turned citrically lighter, saw Yatagan Palo Santo trunks sinking into the muddy swamp and copal resins dripping from their bark, drowning with it to this day.
**
Grandiose for green border crossers of the big city and Nick Cave readers who want to know what the protagonist in "And the donkey saw the angel" smells like when he croaked in the swamp.
A summary can be found in Yatagan's statement below.

(With thanks to Murder Bee)
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