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Falling in love with "Rolling in love"?
Kilian fragrances are in a class of their own - the performance alone, this fine box of keys, is something very special. Of course, this also has its price, and that's why I hadn't dared to approach fragrances of this brand until now - the cost of a bottle is too high. Nevertheless I wanted to get to know her at least a little bit. "Black Phantom" was my favourite, because I imagined the coffee scent to be particularly precious - but then I was very disappointed in the perfumery: I only felt a strong sweetness without any particular expressiveness. So I concentrated on "Rolling in love" and was very happy to get a little bottling. I thought about this fragrance for a long time - especially the red bottle, so extraordinary in the black row. Love - that's what it's all about, that much was clear. But the name? What does "Rolling in love" mean anyway? Not falling in love, but rolling? Is this about rock 'n' roll, a peppy falling in love? Or do you ride at full pelt, without leg and head protection, on roller skates unbraked into a rather questionable love affair? Somehow the name did not quite convince me; a direct association did not arise for me... Now that I know the fragrance, I suspect: the image of a gentle, almost trackless glide into love, barely perceptible and ending in warm harmony should be evoked... Because this is how the fragrance presents itself:
The opening is almond milk, in a very soft, unsweet, clearly creamy form. At the beginning there are hardly any more nuances to be found than this intensely creamy, almond-like scent. There are no echoes of gourmand notes whatsoever: Mandel here does not mean marzipan. Rather, the almond milk goes in the direction of a fine, unsweetened body oil, such as that known from L'Erbolario. Thus, in the Middle Ages, the effect of almonds must have been in the famous "Blanc-manger", a white porridge made of pressed almonds and chicken breast, which was pureed and served to the sick for convalescence - you could season it with the precious sugar if the sick person was a rich pepper sack, but for ordinary mortals this porridge was pure and not sweet. This is roughly how the prelude to "Rolling in love" smells, and it takes hours before something else is added to it, a note that enhances the feeling of freshly creamed skin with delicate powder tones. This is how "Rolling in love" stages a Saturday afternoon: you bathed, put on some lotion and first of all rested a little because the bath water was too hot; you read an exciting book and then got ready for a rendezvous: perfected the fresh, radiant impression with fine powder and put on an elegant outfit, preferably of course in red. While you're still sitting there, sweet memories of your last encounter with the object of these tender feelings come to mind, which in perfume is represented by a hint of tuberose, a tiny touch of sensuality only. But until then you had a lot of time. It actually takes a very long time for the completely calm, reserved tuberose to appear, and you suspect that you are being led by the nose, as lamblike as she is - disguised, subdued, as delicate as only daisies can be. After another while, sweetness finally comes through to you. After hours, in my case only the next morning, vanilla and tonka bean show up, which probably intoxicated the senses at night and only flash up in the morning as a sweet memory. In fact, the scent development is comparable to a very slow, gently rolling glide, such as the elegant skating course on a mirror-smooth lake or the slow, gentle rolling of the waves over a narrow strip of sand. A gently developing fragrance which - applied in the afternoon - shows a blossom breeze late in the evening and a vanilla sweetness in the morning. You need patience for "Rolling in love" - as much as you need to enjoy a gentle, long-lasting, gradually blossoming love against all stormy impulses