08/01/2019

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Tulipan Delusion
Black Tulip. A typical picture fantasy title. We know tulips don't smell. So you can't give a damn. But the Shay & Blue fragrances aroused my interest and so when I bought a bottle of "White Peaches" at Essenza Nobile I ordered a sample of "Black Tulip". The pyramid reads well: no musk, no jasmine, no gardenia, no other problem candidates. But the cyclamen, which is rather rare in fragrances and which I like very much, also in nature. In contrast to tulips, some cyclamen smell very intense, namely very peculiar and uniquely bitter-powdery. I like that very much! Then plum - one of the fruit varieties in fragrances that never seemed negative or even unpleasantly fermented to me, but rather soft and luxuriant and wonderfully lively, and then - white chocolate! Yes, I'm still looking for a fine chocolate scent that's a little less brute and intense than Montales Chocolate Greedy. White chocolate also differs from darker chocolate. So this was one of the wish samples I ordered.
Then I read the already existing statements and the commentary by Franfan20 and there I could have guessed it already, this confusion, this tulipan madness, which the smell would trigger with me, the statements and the commentary were nevertheless quite very contrary: Sometimes squeaky-pitchy, sometimes powdery, sometimes bitter, sometimes flowery, then again without flowers, plummy, again not even that....yes, what now?
And I anticipate my preliminary conclusion and tell you: It's all true! This scent literally leads you by the nose!
Tulip - yes, that's somehow right, because some things in this fragrance simply don't smell, you don't smell it. Like I don't smell any plum, I don't smell any fruit at all. Others don't smell flowers, but I smell cyclamen intensively, that's fantastic! But that's not all it is. I've been bottling it for a week now and have fascinated her for 6 of these 7 days. And I smell something different every time.
Fix is with me only:
1. Presence of cyclamen.
2. Absence of plum.
On the first day I smelled the stinginess and suspected a hidden component of jasmine. Then the whole thing turned into a wonderfully powdery cyclamen scent with subtle white chocolate, just as I had hoped On one of the next days I found the heart note was marked by something strangely unhappy, I feared it could be a secret admixture of gardenia. This time the chocolate came late and even more tender.
Once again I thought I could clearly see saffron in the top note. He hadn't been there before. Luckily there was neither a jasmine nor a gardenia touch.
Today I have again a light saffron impression and afterwards wonderful intensive white chocolate.
Only cyclamen is always present.
In the end, a fine, dry wood also comes quite regularly, but sometimes more and sometimes less clearly, which reminded me a little of this discreet and extremely dust-dry wood from Beach Hut Woman. And that in turn raised the question whether Black Tulip really contains a perfectly weighted and artistically integrated grain of Cashmeran.
Well. The crazy thing is: I love this cyclamen and I hope every time I use it that the white chocolate comes out as intense as it did a few days ago. And then I'm looking forward to the dust-dry praline-alpine violet powder wood finish.
Whatever else my nose smells like is obviously at the mercy of Black Tulip's day-to-day arbitrariness.
The question remains whether snowdrops smell. I don't think so. Anyway, I don't remember ever smelling the smell of snowdrops. But maybe that's because in January I don't normally run around with my nose deep on the ground. In the Black Tulip they're probably in it, because you can't smell them there either.
I sold a scent at the souk. The money is now taken for an order at Essenza Nobile: "Black Tulip". This time I'll take Cherry Blossom for my English sample. From Shay & Blue.
Then I read the already existing statements and the commentary by Franfan20 and there I could have guessed it already, this confusion, this tulipan madness, which the smell would trigger with me, the statements and the commentary were nevertheless quite very contrary: Sometimes squeaky-pitchy, sometimes powdery, sometimes bitter, sometimes flowery, then again without flowers, plummy, again not even that....yes, what now?
And I anticipate my preliminary conclusion and tell you: It's all true! This scent literally leads you by the nose!
Tulip - yes, that's somehow right, because some things in this fragrance simply don't smell, you don't smell it. Like I don't smell any plum, I don't smell any fruit at all. Others don't smell flowers, but I smell cyclamen intensively, that's fantastic! But that's not all it is. I've been bottling it for a week now and have fascinated her for 6 of these 7 days. And I smell something different every time.
Fix is with me only:
1. Presence of cyclamen.
2. Absence of plum.
On the first day I smelled the stinginess and suspected a hidden component of jasmine. Then the whole thing turned into a wonderfully powdery cyclamen scent with subtle white chocolate, just as I had hoped On one of the next days I found the heart note was marked by something strangely unhappy, I feared it could be a secret admixture of gardenia. This time the chocolate came late and even more tender.
Once again I thought I could clearly see saffron in the top note. He hadn't been there before. Luckily there was neither a jasmine nor a gardenia touch.
Today I have again a light saffron impression and afterwards wonderful intensive white chocolate.
Only cyclamen is always present.
In the end, a fine, dry wood also comes quite regularly, but sometimes more and sometimes less clearly, which reminded me a little of this discreet and extremely dust-dry wood from Beach Hut Woman. And that in turn raised the question whether Black Tulip really contains a perfectly weighted and artistically integrated grain of Cashmeran.
Well. The crazy thing is: I love this cyclamen and I hope every time I use it that the white chocolate comes out as intense as it did a few days ago. And then I'm looking forward to the dust-dry praline-alpine violet powder wood finish.
Whatever else my nose smells like is obviously at the mercy of Black Tulip's day-to-day arbitrariness.
The question remains whether snowdrops smell. I don't think so. Anyway, I don't remember ever smelling the smell of snowdrops. But maybe that's because in January I don't normally run around with my nose deep on the ground. In the Black Tulip they're probably in it, because you can't smell them there either.
I sold a scent at the souk. The money is now taken for an order at Essenza Nobile: "Black Tulip". This time I'll take Cherry Blossom for my English sample. From Shay & Blue.
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