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Notes11/22/2020
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7
Arrogance and self-knowledge
Sometimes you just have to get rid of names: buy music by ear, browse books off bestseller lists, with perfume anyway: just let your nose decide - here you can't help it, because you have to wear the stuff.
But often enough I observe with myself that there is a wishful thinking to approve of certain brands, to support the acceptance of mediocrity as well as of the unspeakable.
Olfactory destructive measures live from the dialectic of art (or money?): you want to be a philistine last. And expensive things don't like to be banal. Conversely, one's own willingness is all the greater to frivolously deny the supposedly "nameless" or less popular candidate's genius: You can't be a philistine, not in art!
This is how straw becomes gold in the hands of one person: there is the ordeal of searching for the best straw in the world, the tedious distillation, the path of asceticism and the pure, unadulterated natural product - the essence of the essential, beautifully captured and offered in the smallest quantities. Very exquisite, if you already have everything else. If you erase all that and put this product in the hand of someone else, at best you are left with nothing but straw: unimaginative, simple, musty, unbearable; who wants to smell like that?
All too often, art seems to be a story that we tell each other. And the more unique this story is, the smaller the print run, the more valuable the product.
Much of this type of product has to be theoretically justified, and cacophonies can then no longer be perceived as such - one only needs to know the background of the work. On the other hand, the intellectual growth that is evident in the unambiguous pursuit of olfactory horizons cannot be negated. New things are not always easily accessible for the senses. What was straw can become gold.
Of course, one is chained to one's perception, and this is by definition judgmental; as soon as thoughts appear as a companion to the observed, opinion is formed. If one is outside this mechanism, there is nothing that must not exist. And this is not an easy exercise.
In the purely observational mode, a dreaded honesty often comes to light, which is otherwise reliably concealed by one's own ideas about the supposed special nature of the brand: there, one recognizes straw as straw, and gold as gold. But then the one is not more valuable than the other. Both are art. A nice side effect.
One way or another, more or less successfully, I tried to proceed when testing Laudano Nero.
My first acquaintance with Tiziana Terenzi was Orion, and out of disappointment I decided that it would be the last. The best thing about it was that my mind immediately formed Tiziana Terenzi into an amorphous sound structure - with the addition of Luca Turin and Tania Sanchez - which in turn allowed the strange conviction to mature: "Yes, this Tania Turenzi perfume is not like that, but her book is quite good. She can write, but perfume is not so good
Such arrogance runs deep. Well, Tiziana Terenzi is something else after all
Blindly exchanged, my first concern was that Laudano would turn out to be Orion Nero. Full of awe at the rehearsal, my relief resembled an enlightenment: Wait a minute, that's a good one! Yeah, but is it really good? Isn't that Titiano Turino?! Can he even do that?!
Camphor and bitter green herbs, sweet berries, ashes and cognac - all in one incredibly pompous appearance! Judgmentally I combined further names and impressions. But in order to completely surrender to the scent, at some point all this Turino-Turenzi nonsense in my head had to be switched off.
The "resolute arrogance" of Laudano Nero, I would adore in the case of one grandmaster, and probably shamelessly chalk it up to anyone else. Thank you, education
And then I thought that could easily be Tom Ford. "Bold" in appearance he is, if it weren't for his fabulous mutability. Oriental, smooth, herbal, resinous. At the very end, there's labdanum and the slightly oily vanilla. Ford or not Ford?
For me, this fragrance is avant-garde, similar to what I attribute to the makers of Tonka Fever and Type Writer - even if the olfactory results differ, the way of thinking seems to be similarly radical.
I recognize fine gourmand parallels to Dolce di Giorno, although Laudano Nero follows a completely different concept: his dark, bitter side has absolutely nothing to do with desserts.
Compared to Black Afgano, this fragrance is more coarsely meshed, but structurally by no means more unstable. Black Afgano is more subtly balanced, finer and more multi-faceted - a sensitive poet, so to speak. Laudano Nero is more sparkling and paradoxical in his overall appearance: a poet and fencer, if you like - even drunk, he's sure to stand on his feet!
[...]
Well, if you want to allow yourself the "arrogance" of Laudano Nero, you can throw brands and names overboard in a self-experiment and get rid of all the bizarre stories; if you go all the way, you can discover the same thing for yourself and rethink your own dusty story - if you don't want to be just a name, let alone a brand
But often enough I observe with myself that there is a wishful thinking to approve of certain brands, to support the acceptance of mediocrity as well as of the unspeakable.
Olfactory destructive measures live from the dialectic of art (or money?): you want to be a philistine last. And expensive things don't like to be banal. Conversely, one's own willingness is all the greater to frivolously deny the supposedly "nameless" or less popular candidate's genius: You can't be a philistine, not in art!
This is how straw becomes gold in the hands of one person: there is the ordeal of searching for the best straw in the world, the tedious distillation, the path of asceticism and the pure, unadulterated natural product - the essence of the essential, beautifully captured and offered in the smallest quantities. Very exquisite, if you already have everything else. If you erase all that and put this product in the hand of someone else, at best you are left with nothing but straw: unimaginative, simple, musty, unbearable; who wants to smell like that?
All too often, art seems to be a story that we tell each other. And the more unique this story is, the smaller the print run, the more valuable the product.
Much of this type of product has to be theoretically justified, and cacophonies can then no longer be perceived as such - one only needs to know the background of the work. On the other hand, the intellectual growth that is evident in the unambiguous pursuit of olfactory horizons cannot be negated. New things are not always easily accessible for the senses. What was straw can become gold.
Of course, one is chained to one's perception, and this is by definition judgmental; as soon as thoughts appear as a companion to the observed, opinion is formed. If one is outside this mechanism, there is nothing that must not exist. And this is not an easy exercise.
In the purely observational mode, a dreaded honesty often comes to light, which is otherwise reliably concealed by one's own ideas about the supposed special nature of the brand: there, one recognizes straw as straw, and gold as gold. But then the one is not more valuable than the other. Both are art. A nice side effect.
One way or another, more or less successfully, I tried to proceed when testing Laudano Nero.
My first acquaintance with Tiziana Terenzi was Orion, and out of disappointment I decided that it would be the last. The best thing about it was that my mind immediately formed Tiziana Terenzi into an amorphous sound structure - with the addition of Luca Turin and Tania Sanchez - which in turn allowed the strange conviction to mature: "Yes, this Tania Turenzi perfume is not like that, but her book is quite good. She can write, but perfume is not so good
Such arrogance runs deep. Well, Tiziana Terenzi is something else after all
Blindly exchanged, my first concern was that Laudano would turn out to be Orion Nero. Full of awe at the rehearsal, my relief resembled an enlightenment: Wait a minute, that's a good one! Yeah, but is it really good? Isn't that Titiano Turino?! Can he even do that?!
Camphor and bitter green herbs, sweet berries, ashes and cognac - all in one incredibly pompous appearance! Judgmentally I combined further names and impressions. But in order to completely surrender to the scent, at some point all this Turino-Turenzi nonsense in my head had to be switched off.
The "resolute arrogance" of Laudano Nero, I would adore in the case of one grandmaster, and probably shamelessly chalk it up to anyone else. Thank you, education
And then I thought that could easily be Tom Ford. "Bold" in appearance he is, if it weren't for his fabulous mutability. Oriental, smooth, herbal, resinous. At the very end, there's labdanum and the slightly oily vanilla. Ford or not Ford?
For me, this fragrance is avant-garde, similar to what I attribute to the makers of Tonka Fever and Type Writer - even if the olfactory results differ, the way of thinking seems to be similarly radical.
I recognize fine gourmand parallels to Dolce di Giorno, although Laudano Nero follows a completely different concept: his dark, bitter side has absolutely nothing to do with desserts.
Compared to Black Afgano, this fragrance is more coarsely meshed, but structurally by no means more unstable. Black Afgano is more subtly balanced, finer and more multi-faceted - a sensitive poet, so to speak. Laudano Nero is more sparkling and paradoxical in his overall appearance: a poet and fencer, if you like - even drunk, he's sure to stand on his feet!
[...]
Well, if you want to allow yourself the "arrogance" of Laudano Nero, you can throw brands and names overboard in a self-experiment and get rid of all the bizarre stories; if you go all the way, you can discover the same thing for yourself and rethink your own dusty story - if you don't want to be just a name, let alone a brand
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