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11/22/2018
Leimbacher
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Leimbacher
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7
Stump is trump
"Craquele" is a woody, light thyme snore. It reminds of a mixture of "Gucci Rush for Men" and "Fahrenheit", only completely neutered. No eggs, no bumps, no contours. An okay scent, no question. But with the price? You expect more refinement, finesse, independence. It's a dry thyme bush, plucked and sprinkled on a white cedar, then at the very end with a lot of fantasy running into an ivory leather handbag - sounds exciting and noble, but causes my feet to fall asleep rather than a euphoric olfactory organ.
Krakeelen means something like screaming, complaining, scolding - but that completely contradicts the scent. He's more of a calm mind, he doesn't get up at all and stays on the teppisch. More like below. He'd fail any assessment center because he just can't get a word out. At first sight he's nice, but he remains silent like a fart in front of a waterfall. Fine but lazy. He doesn't hurt anyone, but he stays away from everything and everyone. He waves from his ivory tower and snores to himself. An Oriental with the temperament of a Welsh housewife. Also with a stick in his butt and strangely undercooled. Low in surprises. Not my taste, though solidly made. Saffron was rarely more tranquil.
Flacon: at the upper end of the beauty scale - fine treasures!
Sillage: Squeezes quietly. A white, inconspicuous firewood. An unbelievably subtle, unfeeling aura.
Shelf life: approx. 6 hours on my skin.
Conclusion: solid, everyday and quite fine cherry wood flatterer, who hardly remains in the memory and who lacks something (very) of character. All right, all right. Almost the opposite of his noble bottle
Krakeelen means something like screaming, complaining, scolding - but that completely contradicts the scent. He's more of a calm mind, he doesn't get up at all and stays on the teppisch. More like below. He'd fail any assessment center because he just can't get a word out. At first sight he's nice, but he remains silent like a fart in front of a waterfall. Fine but lazy. He doesn't hurt anyone, but he stays away from everything and everyone. He waves from his ivory tower and snores to himself. An Oriental with the temperament of a Welsh housewife. Also with a stick in his butt and strangely undercooled. Low in surprises. Not my taste, though solidly made. Saffron was rarely more tranquil.
Flacon: at the upper end of the beauty scale - fine treasures!
Sillage: Squeezes quietly. A white, inconspicuous firewood. An unbelievably subtle, unfeeling aura.
Shelf life: approx. 6 hours on my skin.
Conclusion: solid, everyday and quite fine cherry wood flatterer, who hardly remains in the memory and who lacks something (very) of character. All right, all right. Almost the opposite of his noble bottle
Omardo
Hermesh
