Good day, dear readers!
I start directly with a question: what is actually the (correct) plural form of Parfuma and Parfumo?
May I call you parfumi? Parfumas and Parfumos? Is the word even German, Italian or possibly even Russian?
Already at the introduction I seem to despair today. Wait until I take a closer look at the bottle.
By the way, you can find the perfume description from the next but one paragraph.
The color purple.
The one or the other, which has already read something of me, knows about my dislike of this color. I never tire of proclaiming it loudly.
"Purple", for me, is lavender appearing in droves, the smell of which I find unpleasant and far too strong from meters away.
Purple is also often infamous as the "color of unsatisfied women," and I remember too well the reaction, sounded in unison, when once in my life, at a wedding, I was forced to show up at the bride's request in purple drag, a pompous dress with a bow that measured about half my height.
"Purple is what comes out when you subtract from blue and red, respectively, what distinguishes those same colors. It is unsatisfactory in relation to the emergence.", had it once my physics teacher purred, perhaps the cleverest words of his career as a teacher and possibly at the same time an approach for the explanation of the meaning transfer of this color into a sexual context.
Purple was also the favorite color of an older "cousin" of mine whose clothes I had to wear as a child. What came of putting x number of too big dresses and tops on a child five years younger? Hopefully there aren't too many photos of that, because I was able to catch on very quickly and continue to help myself to my brothers' closet, in which you would never have spotted even a hint of purple. Since my brothers are pretty much the coolest people in this universe, it's probably clear to everyone what the conclusion is.
However, "The Color Purple" gave me the absolute overkill in another way: in the form of a film by Steven Spielberg, which I had to watch in the original English at the age of six (since it had not been dubbed into Russian, at least not at that time).
With a probability of almost 100% it is(e) a masterpiece, whose excellence, however, I can not recognize or even judge, because I will not watch it now as an adult.
"Purple" to me is the color of the stuff that nightmares are made of.
So this bottle has been staring at me from afar, in its bizarre "I'm a broken UFO trying to make one on Donna Karan" form.
Ugly, incredibly ugly and unwieldy at that.
That what is contained in such a vessel consisting of ugliness, can be well and gladly times beautiful and lovely, has proven next to the extraterrestrial jasmine bomb of Mugler Polli-Huhn^ already many times.
Therefore, I can not be deterred and dare death-defying the first spray (initially, however, on paper, because Paco Rabanne should now really not per se inner values and a heart of gold impute).
Fanning fanning. Uh là là. What is that?
A bit of spice and soap are in the air. Since the store is almost empty, that can only be from me.
So I spray a time on the wrist. It smells fruity and I have an association of a toy made of wood that smells of blackberry, on which you can rub and afterwards the fingers smell of blackberry (and are a bit discolored). There used to be something like that in our country, for example for department stores, I think anyway (I don't know the name, hopefully there was in Germany too).
The spice I can not define, but chili it is not for my nose. It is also rather several spices mixed together, because the impressions that reach my nose vary.
During a walk, this pleasant soapy smell (which I would have guessed came from aldehydes, the pyramid proves me wrong) blows around me, becomes more floral, creamy and makes me think of Nivea. Maybe it's osmanthus, because I have absolutely no idea what osmanthus smells like. But it seems like it would be a perfect dance partner to join jasmine in a long, ravishing waltz on the dance floor (I'd rather watch, with my two left feet).
A few hours later, the sweetness has subsided, the scent is still floral, slightly creamy, but above all feminine.
This is exactly how I have not smelled it before, so if "Ultraviolet" wants to allude to it being outside the usual spectrum: Okay.
He has not really pulled me out of the socks, however, my nose has flattered and my ego felt a little bit winged and the art of debauched exaggeration have the designers probably still a bit better on it than I am.
I would "Ultraviolet" alone because of the flacon already never buy and also is not a fragrance that seems to be created for me.
But he is beautiful, a choice that you could always make when you can not decide - and would always be right.
I can not imagine an inappropriate occasion for the comrade here - and would be very happy to be able to observe him once on a man.
This is then probably one of those things for which perfumistas and perfumistos invented the word "Immergeher".
Because "Ultraviolet", as abgespacet he may sound and look, always goes.
And the moral of the story?
Do not despise ugly vessels!
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^ Dear Polli Chicken, if you're reading this, you know I think purple is cute only on purple chickens and appreciate your expertise and charming nature above all else.
Top Notes 
Heart Notes 
Base Notes 
PurpleKat
Ostara
Jazzy76
