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Of Raging Kinskis And Fake Rose Petals
The most fascinating fragrances for me are those that do not directly trigger a reflex to buy. Which, months after the first encounter notwithstanding, creep back into consciousness without any external trigger and say: "I'm still here. You might have to look for half a day. But I'm there. And you should try again." I've written about this in the past, and I'm doing it again now. Often these are the scents that don't fit the familiar pattern and break up the known. The force of habit is stronger than the spirit of discovery at first. But the forward-pressing desire for the new eventually finds its way through the brain into olfactory memory.
I must have had my sample of Fars for over two years. Every few months it comes out of nowhere. The need to seek out Fars again. After the pale memory on which I want to spray again a current impression. Up until now, along with the obvious fascination, there has always been a doubt present as to whether the scent suits me. Slowly, however, I have to admit to myself that I no longer want to escape the spell. The spirit of discovery has triumphed once again. But why is that so?
I've read about comparisons to Jubilation 25 by Amouage. And while the fragrance profiles are really far apart, it makes sense. In both fragrances, the contents are extremely tightly woven. Individual notes are hard to pick out. The famous whole that is more than its parts. There's also the solemnity of demeanor, even if the extroversion is a different one here. And just like the Amouage, something touches me here that I can't quite put into words. That certain je-ne-sais-quoi vibe that every fragrance enthusiast knows from somewhere. That you can't attribute to specific fragrance notes. The sum makes the music here.
Whether Fars really belongs in the family of oud stars is questionable. That it has rather harmed the fragrance, probably. When I read here, Fars is an ordinary rose oud fragrance, the inner Kinski rages. Oud is indeed a not entirely unimportant note here, but it has more of an embracing effect in the background. Rose and rose geranium are also NOT the same thing olfactorily (damn it, but Klaus is starting to calm down). It's more the rose stem, including the leaves, that's been used up here. I'm pretty sensitive to rose scents - here everything blends smoothly into said whole and it doesn't smell classically rose.
So who are the fragrance stars here? Honestly, it's hard to say. The lavender is definitely present. I'm really not a lavender fan, but it's so elegantly tucked away here. So cooling and pure. I can't detect the stated bergamot separately. To me, Fars is an extremely tight interplay of the cool lavender, a woody rose geranium with a bit of vetiver tangled in it, and a dark, bubbling base. At first glance, this sounds like a contradiction that doesn't necessarily go well together. But with Fars, everything just fits. As if it could be different, but it doesn't need to be. The whole thing comes across extremely smooth and almost airy despite an undeniable heaviness. The scent texture really makes me think of silk. As cheesy as it sounds.
As alluded to above, Fars smells really classy and celebratory. Unlike Jubilation 25, however, Fars doesn't need a baroque palace to come through. Fars practices in understatement and can be worn low dosed certainly well in the work environment. A fragrance for people who appreciate beauty but don't want to tattoo that on their forehead. However, Fars can certainly be disguising due to its luxurious appearance. One of the reasons I wasn't quite sure at first. Fars carries something very pleasantly sophisticated - without being too enamored with his own aesthetic. Attractive and thoroughly sexy. Provided the fragrance suits the demeanor of the wearer. For me, the fragrance is rather masculine, but have also read contrary opinions.
Extremely Arabic Fars does not work on me. In a blind test, I would probably not have been able to categorize him in this way. Which is part of the appeal. Either I know too little in the field of Arabic fragrances (possible) or the marketing does the rest. Fars could also be an Arabic interpretation of a French fragrance house. I understand the reference in principle. When you think of oud, you naturally think of Arabic fragrances. However, the whole making of the fragrance reminds me more of French perfumery. I may be wrong, but that's my impression. The longevity is very good, the sillage finely tuned. Fits simply.
So another fragrance has taken its time. Even if the result was probably already determined at the first encounter. The gentle bonds of habit did not want to allow it, for that it is now all the more beautiful. That's why this hobby is so beautiful: because one's own ideas are always challenged. This is the only way to keep the spirit of discovery alive. In a world of raging Kinskis, delicate rose petals and woody rose stems. Actually not so bad.