06/26/2019
FvSpee
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Bohemian Rhapsody Computer translation: Böhmischer Wortschwall.
In the opinion of many, it is already an abstruse matter to write comments about fragrances at all. But this is certainly the case when, like me, you want to penetrate the furthest corners of the Bohemian cologne and aftershave world and describe them in literary terms. That doesn't bother me. By the way, it is really a phenomenon, how many domestic and traditional shaving and cologne waters this small landlocked state with less than 10 million inhabitants still produces! So let's go with highly detailed explanations to this highly important thing:
NAME: "Olimon" is not a Czech word (as far as I know), but should probably just sound good and could also be a not too mindless combination and contraction of the Greek prefix "Oligo-" (a few) (e.g. known from "Oligarchy" = rule of a few people) with "Limon", so just a little bit of citric aftershave. Which, by the way, would be quite good (see below).
HERSTELLER: Of all the Bohemian shaving and cologne waters I've tested and commented so far, this is the first and only one that isn't from "Alpa" or "Astrid". On the carton, the name of the producer appears as "Schicht s.r.o.", on the label of the bottle as "Spolpharm s.r.o.". The same address is given for both companies on the Internet. The website of the manufacturer "Schicht" is by the way very nice and modern designed; it is apparently a traditional company from the pre-war period, which manufactures all kinds of drugstore products. The cleaning series "Jelen" (Hirsch), which seems to be a bit the Czech equivalent of the German "Frosch" (Bio-Image), is brought to the fore. The products are wonderfully "vintage" designed, I recently brought myself a curd soap and a detergent from the Czech Republic, because the packaging was so beautiful. However, this aftershave no longer carries "layer" on the homepage, but some strange Pitralon license offshoot. That's funny. This bohemian Olimon would fit better to the image. Whether Olimon was outsourced to "Spolpharm" or was no longer produced at all, Commissario Odorato, who conducted these external investigations, could no longer determine due to the heat, but instead sank into a beer bar.
AVAILABILITY: This also means that there is no reliable information about long-term availability. At the moment the stuff is still in trade (across the border).
PRODUCT: Olimon - like most "Czechs" - is a traditional, honest aftershave, almost viscous, with very good care properties, which fulfils its purpose. Of all the candidates in the series, I'm the least impressed with the fragrance so far: In the beginning very citric, but after that hardly any more, a melange prevails, which leaves me a bit helpless. I would have described it best as "woody with an unspecific, unpleasant secondary note". A fellow tester found them to be "sweet" (no, I disagree) and "soapy" (I could go with them, but curd soap smells better). So maybe "woody-kernel-soap with citrus aftertunes and strange surroundings".
POWER: For the skin Olimon is soothing anyway, for the mind it is soothing that the less convincing scent is not very strong. A giant projection is not possible. After 5 minutes, the middle opening sillage has collapsed like a failed soufflé on the flatness of a pancakes, and after about 1-2 hours the last remains close to the skin have flown away.
FLAKON: Unlike the Astrid and Alpa flacons, which usually look like a mixture of pre-war design and communist industrial charm (more in the sense of a stalinesque blast furnace aristocracy aesthetics à la Berlin Karl-Marx-Allee), Olimon (at least the flacon, the cardboard could also be from the "West") really looks a bit east trashy. The bottle is made of white glass, simply cylindrical, with a large cap made of cheap, thin, white plastic. The unspectacular label is slightly crooked. The pouring opening is reduced by a plastic insert, whereby one must shake violently, in order to get a reasonable quantity out. After all, no EVP is specified.
Anyone who has made it through this text to one of the most remote topics in the world will receive a trophy from me.
NAME: "Olimon" is not a Czech word (as far as I know), but should probably just sound good and could also be a not too mindless combination and contraction of the Greek prefix "Oligo-" (a few) (e.g. known from "Oligarchy" = rule of a few people) with "Limon", so just a little bit of citric aftershave. Which, by the way, would be quite good (see below).
HERSTELLER: Of all the Bohemian shaving and cologne waters I've tested and commented so far, this is the first and only one that isn't from "Alpa" or "Astrid". On the carton, the name of the producer appears as "Schicht s.r.o.", on the label of the bottle as "Spolpharm s.r.o.". The same address is given for both companies on the Internet. The website of the manufacturer "Schicht" is by the way very nice and modern designed; it is apparently a traditional company from the pre-war period, which manufactures all kinds of drugstore products. The cleaning series "Jelen" (Hirsch), which seems to be a bit the Czech equivalent of the German "Frosch" (Bio-Image), is brought to the fore. The products are wonderfully "vintage" designed, I recently brought myself a curd soap and a detergent from the Czech Republic, because the packaging was so beautiful. However, this aftershave no longer carries "layer" on the homepage, but some strange Pitralon license offshoot. That's funny. This bohemian Olimon would fit better to the image. Whether Olimon was outsourced to "Spolpharm" or was no longer produced at all, Commissario Odorato, who conducted these external investigations, could no longer determine due to the heat, but instead sank into a beer bar.
AVAILABILITY: This also means that there is no reliable information about long-term availability. At the moment the stuff is still in trade (across the border).
PRODUCT: Olimon - like most "Czechs" - is a traditional, honest aftershave, almost viscous, with very good care properties, which fulfils its purpose. Of all the candidates in the series, I'm the least impressed with the fragrance so far: In the beginning very citric, but after that hardly any more, a melange prevails, which leaves me a bit helpless. I would have described it best as "woody with an unspecific, unpleasant secondary note". A fellow tester found them to be "sweet" (no, I disagree) and "soapy" (I could go with them, but curd soap smells better). So maybe "woody-kernel-soap with citrus aftertunes and strange surroundings".
POWER: For the skin Olimon is soothing anyway, for the mind it is soothing that the less convincing scent is not very strong. A giant projection is not possible. After 5 minutes, the middle opening sillage has collapsed like a failed soufflé on the flatness of a pancakes, and after about 1-2 hours the last remains close to the skin have flown away.
FLAKON: Unlike the Astrid and Alpa flacons, which usually look like a mixture of pre-war design and communist industrial charm (more in the sense of a stalinesque blast furnace aristocracy aesthetics à la Berlin Karl-Marx-Allee), Olimon (at least the flacon, the cardboard could also be from the "West") really looks a bit east trashy. The bottle is made of white glass, simply cylindrical, with a large cap made of cheap, thin, white plastic. The unspectacular label is slightly crooked. The pouring opening is reduced by a plastic insert, whereby one must shake violently, in order to get a reasonable quantity out. After all, no EVP is specified.
Anyone who has made it through this text to one of the most remote topics in the world will receive a trophy from me.
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