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Unknown fragrances Part 1: An everyday Aventus from Italy
It seems to be the classic here: a perfume or a perfume bottle strolls through an Italian city, the sun is shining, the mood is in holiday mode - and there! A smell, a scent! Weather recorded! A keen sense of smell leads him or her through the streets, through the dusty summer, past ice-cream parlours and architectural testimonials of bygone days, to a ... clothing store called Gutteridge. Not very Italian sounding, but "dal 1878"
Granted, I had never heard of this brand when I was on holiday in Milan and Bergamo last summer. That was long before Corona. A fine, well-known fragrance poured out of the well-air-conditioned shop in Via Dante. But that's Aven...! In the pedestrian zone I almost pronounced out loud that mystically colored name that inevitably awakens the guardians of the batch codes from their never deep sleep and who as archangels stand by their Lord in celestial heights like Michael with his followers in the Revelation of John.
Curious, I entered the store and tested the early offshoot (2013) of what is probably the most wave-setting niche fragrance of the recent past. Out of respect for the original, which I really appreciate, it should be emphasized that the wearer is not presented with a revolutionary, unique twist here. For Gutteridge (Black), as the offspring is called, does not try to hide its family resemblance at all, and probably originated from the calculation of jumping on the bandwagon of success. What luck for all those who love scents! br />
For me it is a portable Aventus, soft, creamy, more withdrawn, more suitable for office use. No fruit explosion, no burning birch forest, no olfactory volume. Less missa solemnis than Sunday Mass - everyday life in the realm of the liturgy of fragrance. My 30ml bottle of the original simply doesn't want to get empty, although I like to wear it from time to time. The original is often too loud, too much, too extroverted for me. I lack understatement and modesty, although I understand anyone who sees it differently or appreciates the lack of those very qualities in Aventus. After all, tastes and "areas of application" are different. I can't imagine the original - for me - at a christening, in a hospital, shopping in a discount store or visiting grandma with coffee and cake, but I can imagine this Italian offshoot very well.
With the Gutteridge, I have now found an "A-scent" for me that is less complicated. Less "aftershave", more soft base, a little duller and less complex. Significantly less smokiness. A fragrance that's still distinctive, can be worn with a shirt like a T-shirt and never "Here! Me! Look, everyone! Here I am!" shouts. Less acrylic paint, more watercolour. There's nothing annoying about that scent, nothing is too much for me. I find it quite impressive for this type of scent.
The bottle is massive and heavy, the cap has taken an involuntary fall from a height of one and a half meters almost without scratching, but it does not sit very firmly on the fuselage. The sprayer is a real highlight - not yet Dior or LV level, but already good quality. Durability and sillage are completely average for a men's fragrance, which I personally find good. For a long time, this fragrance was probably only available in Bella Italia or through middlemen who "passed it on" at exorbitant prices. In the meantime, it is also available online for, I believe free of charge, international shipping. On the spot, at least last summer, it was under 30,- for 100 ml. Very fair.
Granted, I had never heard of this brand when I was on holiday in Milan and Bergamo last summer. That was long before Corona. A fine, well-known fragrance poured out of the well-air-conditioned shop in Via Dante. But that's Aven...! In the pedestrian zone I almost pronounced out loud that mystically colored name that inevitably awakens the guardians of the batch codes from their never deep sleep and who as archangels stand by their Lord in celestial heights like Michael with his followers in the Revelation of John.
Curious, I entered the store and tested the early offshoot (2013) of what is probably the most wave-setting niche fragrance of the recent past. Out of respect for the original, which I really appreciate, it should be emphasized that the wearer is not presented with a revolutionary, unique twist here. For Gutteridge (Black), as the offspring is called, does not try to hide its family resemblance at all, and probably originated from the calculation of jumping on the bandwagon of success. What luck for all those who love scents! br />
For me it is a portable Aventus, soft, creamy, more withdrawn, more suitable for office use. No fruit explosion, no burning birch forest, no olfactory volume. Less missa solemnis than Sunday Mass - everyday life in the realm of the liturgy of fragrance. My 30ml bottle of the original simply doesn't want to get empty, although I like to wear it from time to time. The original is often too loud, too much, too extroverted for me. I lack understatement and modesty, although I understand anyone who sees it differently or appreciates the lack of those very qualities in Aventus. After all, tastes and "areas of application" are different. I can't imagine the original - for me - at a christening, in a hospital, shopping in a discount store or visiting grandma with coffee and cake, but I can imagine this Italian offshoot very well.
With the Gutteridge, I have now found an "A-scent" for me that is less complicated. Less "aftershave", more soft base, a little duller and less complex. Significantly less smokiness. A fragrance that's still distinctive, can be worn with a shirt like a T-shirt and never "Here! Me! Look, everyone! Here I am!" shouts. Less acrylic paint, more watercolour. There's nothing annoying about that scent, nothing is too much for me. I find it quite impressive for this type of scent.
The bottle is massive and heavy, the cap has taken an involuntary fall from a height of one and a half meters almost without scratching, but it does not sit very firmly on the fuselage. The sprayer is a real highlight - not yet Dior or LV level, but already good quality. Durability and sillage are completely average for a men's fragrance, which I personally find good. For a long time, this fragrance was probably only available in Bella Italia or through middlemen who "passed it on" at exorbitant prices. In the meantime, it is also available online for, I believe free of charge, international shipping. On the spot, at least last summer, it was under 30,- for 100 ml. Very fair.
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A short love letter
Beloved bergamot,
we hide many things, we don't show them to anyone, out of shame, out of fear that our vulnerability could be used. Imperfection pricks like a thorn. Pressure from outside, pressure from within to conform to images, not the other way around. Everyday life is often pervaded by this madness. In the morning, after the alarm clock rings, sand in the eyes, creaking joints, moon craters in the face at night, staggering, listlessness, grumbling, stale. It's all part of life, but they don't like to show it. But that's normal and good. Your presence helps me to shift my gaze. Because with you I can be as I am. You accept without reservation
You wake up next to me and lie on me like a veil, like the finest mist. I draw the curtains, sun floods the bedroom, you on my skin, in my textiles, your smell in my nose, penetrates my brain, doesn't let go of me, you won't let go of me. You dream of bergamot. You shift the autumnal softness of your family of origin into the creamy, easygoing. Fluffy and airy cream, not heavy at all, not dragging bitter. Soft, harmonious, through and through. Bergamot ice cream in summer. With slightly sweetish elements, like vanilla oranges, and delicate green, but soft, very soft, with the aim of smoothing everything out, rounding it off. If you were a picture, you would be a watercolour
You love it when the sun shines; and when it does not, you take its place. At work you blow in my nose at times, reminding me of you and everything you stand for: cheerfulness, light-heartedness, warmth, lightness. Walking in the park, the spring green of nature becomes even more intense and beautiful. When we meet a friend, time suddenly flows in the most beautiful way. You please, not only me, for which I am grateful. In your poetry album I would put in as attribute triad clean/fresh/pure. You're a not too loud middle-distance runner. You don't stick, you don't clog, you fade quietly instead. At work, sometimes it makes me sad. But there's a good thing about it: I long for you again and look forward to the evening and the next morning with you.
It is a pity that you are relatively unknown. It's a pity you taste. But be that as it may, you are with me, and you are enjoying the lives of some others. That's how it should be
With love
we hide many things, we don't show them to anyone, out of shame, out of fear that our vulnerability could be used. Imperfection pricks like a thorn. Pressure from outside, pressure from within to conform to images, not the other way around. Everyday life is often pervaded by this madness. In the morning, after the alarm clock rings, sand in the eyes, creaking joints, moon craters in the face at night, staggering, listlessness, grumbling, stale. It's all part of life, but they don't like to show it. But that's normal and good. Your presence helps me to shift my gaze. Because with you I can be as I am. You accept without reservation
You wake up next to me and lie on me like a veil, like the finest mist. I draw the curtains, sun floods the bedroom, you on my skin, in my textiles, your smell in my nose, penetrates my brain, doesn't let go of me, you won't let go of me. You dream of bergamot. You shift the autumnal softness of your family of origin into the creamy, easygoing. Fluffy and airy cream, not heavy at all, not dragging bitter. Soft, harmonious, through and through. Bergamot ice cream in summer. With slightly sweetish elements, like vanilla oranges, and delicate green, but soft, very soft, with the aim of smoothing everything out, rounding it off. If you were a picture, you would be a watercolour
You love it when the sun shines; and when it does not, you take its place. At work you blow in my nose at times, reminding me of you and everything you stand for: cheerfulness, light-heartedness, warmth, lightness. Walking in the park, the spring green of nature becomes even more intense and beautiful. When we meet a friend, time suddenly flows in the most beautiful way. You please, not only me, for which I am grateful. In your poetry album I would put in as attribute triad clean/fresh/pure. You're a not too loud middle-distance runner. You don't stick, you don't clog, you fade quietly instead. At work, sometimes it makes me sad. But there's a good thing about it: I long for you again and look forward to the evening and the next morning with you.
It is a pity that you are relatively unknown. It's a pity you taste. But be that as it may, you are with me, and you are enjoying the lives of some others. That's how it should be
With love
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Cassisissima grenadinissima - Italian confusion
It will come, next July, for sure. Maybe we'll be able to move freely again. Maybe we will get on our bicycles and cycle through enveloping warmth over sun-kissed field paths, into the forest, crossing state borders, national borders, and back home. Who knows...
Melagrana was born this month. The time of the black currant. A berry fragrance of a charming simplicity like the whole Parco Palladiano range from which it originates. It oscillates between picked berry, green shrubbery, infusion and jam, yet summery light, floating, unobtrusive. Berry softness, tenderness. A fragrance impression midway between naturalness and artificiality, which I also created with many other fragrances in the series, e.g. the Quadrifoglio, Lauro, Olivo and others, which I appreciate.
But stop! Br />
Really currant? That would only be half the truth. Because "melagrana" means pomegranate. Can one be so wrong? Already with the Quadrifoglio ("cloverleaf") I was surprised that basil is the dominant note and clover was not to be sniffed according to my nose. Here it behaves similarly. Where is the pomegranate, that sweet and bitter fruit? Where are the tannins? Where is the tangy fruitiness, when I smell something like transparent berries with a soft green-creamy accompaniment?
I spray the scent on myself again and think. Granted, there is a certain astringency. But my impression of the fragrance simply doesn't lead me to the freshly cut pomegranate. Maybe to the grenadine syrup, but not so sweet. Maybe this scent is simply meant to be an abstraction of nature, a simplification, a reduction, where boundaries become blurred.
So be it. This fragrance deserves a comment, even if it is rather a rarity here. I like it in its simplicity and unconditional cheerfulness, which is not loud. By the way, I don't perceive it as unisex, more as a women's fragrance. There's nothing more to be said about the bottles in the series - for me personally, they're unrivalled. But that's a matter of taste.
Melagrana was born this month. The time of the black currant. A berry fragrance of a charming simplicity like the whole Parco Palladiano range from which it originates. It oscillates between picked berry, green shrubbery, infusion and jam, yet summery light, floating, unobtrusive. Berry softness, tenderness. A fragrance impression midway between naturalness and artificiality, which I also created with many other fragrances in the series, e.g. the Quadrifoglio, Lauro, Olivo and others, which I appreciate.
But stop! Br />
Really currant? That would only be half the truth. Because "melagrana" means pomegranate. Can one be so wrong? Already with the Quadrifoglio ("cloverleaf") I was surprised that basil is the dominant note and clover was not to be sniffed according to my nose. Here it behaves similarly. Where is the pomegranate, that sweet and bitter fruit? Where are the tannins? Where is the tangy fruitiness, when I smell something like transparent berries with a soft green-creamy accompaniment?
I spray the scent on myself again and think. Granted, there is a certain astringency. But my impression of the fragrance simply doesn't lead me to the freshly cut pomegranate. Maybe to the grenadine syrup, but not so sweet. Maybe this scent is simply meant to be an abstraction of nature, a simplification, a reduction, where boundaries become blurred.
So be it. This fragrance deserves a comment, even if it is rather a rarity here. I like it in its simplicity and unconditional cheerfulness, which is not loud. By the way, I don't perceive it as unisex, more as a women's fragrance. There's nothing more to be said about the bottles in the series - for me personally, they're unrivalled. But that's a matter of taste.
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Soft opulence
A few years ago, when I was not yet interested in fragrances, I would have imagined a prototype perfume: engaging, delicious, a little seductive. An accessory that has two main goals - to attract attention (positively). Then, at some point, my fragrance journey began, and in the meantime I don't see it that closely anymore. Nevertheless, when (re)wearing the Casablanca I had to think of this clarity of my naïve years, when perfume was still "functional" for me in a non-negative sense.
Casablanca awakens western-filtered fantasies of an "oriental" city full of scents, 1001 nights, hustle and bustle, colourful historical buildings, embraced by the desert, kissed by the sun. This smoothed image is likely to relate to the reality of life in Casablanca, a metropolis of 3.36 million inhabitants, like an Instagram self-portrait of real people. It is not a look (want) at reality, but a staging. More Casablanca film than "Sky over the desert".
Casablanca opens with a soft, (not pointed) sour sweetness, which is why "apple" and "grape" are good associations. The fragrance itself seems to me to be relatively linear, but over time a little dry woodiness in the background of the soft opulence of this delicately sweet fragrance creates a bed to rest on. "Caramel" could indicate that we are dealing with a caries scent - but that's not the case; the sweetness doesn't kill (me). In my opinion, what distinguishes it is that, despite all the "humming around", it still allows air to breathe. A warm (because it has a balsamic touch), slightly fruity, delicious fragrance, which in my opinion suits ladies better than gentlemen. But perhaps it is also just unisex. Although Casablanca seems to be made for the cold season, it also wears well in midsummer - tested last year at 30 degrees at a company party. But you have to like this sweet genre. That's why I rarely wear it, even if I have to say subjectively-objectively: It's really a good thing when: you don't expect art; no complexity; no "niche" experiments. Because it is very smooth and uncomplicated in its design. But I like it
Shelf life and Sillage: each really good, but not yet in the "premium segment".
Flacon: slim and slender glass with rounded edges. A little wobbly on its legs. The plastic cap does not sit very firmly on the bottle. Overall okay for the price (25-30,-/100ml, that's really fair).
Casablanca awakens western-filtered fantasies of an "oriental" city full of scents, 1001 nights, hustle and bustle, colourful historical buildings, embraced by the desert, kissed by the sun. This smoothed image is likely to relate to the reality of life in Casablanca, a metropolis of 3.36 million inhabitants, like an Instagram self-portrait of real people. It is not a look (want) at reality, but a staging. More Casablanca film than "Sky over the desert".
Casablanca opens with a soft, (not pointed) sour sweetness, which is why "apple" and "grape" are good associations. The fragrance itself seems to me to be relatively linear, but over time a little dry woodiness in the background of the soft opulence of this delicately sweet fragrance creates a bed to rest on. "Caramel" could indicate that we are dealing with a caries scent - but that's not the case; the sweetness doesn't kill (me). In my opinion, what distinguishes it is that, despite all the "humming around", it still allows air to breathe. A warm (because it has a balsamic touch), slightly fruity, delicious fragrance, which in my opinion suits ladies better than gentlemen. But perhaps it is also just unisex. Although Casablanca seems to be made for the cold season, it also wears well in midsummer - tested last year at 30 degrees at a company party. But you have to like this sweet genre. That's why I rarely wear it, even if I have to say subjectively-objectively: It's really a good thing when: you don't expect art; no complexity; no "niche" experiments. Because it is very smooth and uncomplicated in its design. But I like it
Shelf life and Sillage: each really good, but not yet in the "premium segment".
Flacon: slim and slender glass with rounded edges. A little wobbly on its legs. The plastic cap does not sit very firmly on the bottle. Overall okay for the price (25-30,-/100ml, that's really fair).
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Bleu d'ior
This fragrance resembles a missing piece of the puzzle. It could have originated from the calculation that Dior had not had a discreet evergreen with high volatility and little obnoxiousness in its (standard) portfolio to date. Unlike other houses. One thinks for example of Chanel's Bleu de Chanel or Allure Homme (Sport), Prada L'Homme, Yves Saint Laurent L'Homme. Already at the naming one notices: a "genuine" (L')Homme was missing. Or some Bleu'des. Such a fragrance that sells very well, basking in the glow of the brand name and at the same time being simply pleasing. You can say what you like about Bleu de Chanel: But he can do all that
With Dior, up to now the real, original Hommes were in the foreground. Fragrances that would somehow be wearable every day, but are actually already a little too powerful to pass as discreet. And of course Dior Sauvage - the classic opposite of Introversion. As already mentioned: many other houses had the missing piece of the puzzle in their standard portfolio long ago. So now also Dior.
A slight resemblance to the Bleu de Chanel DNA actually suggests itself to me, with the certain - perhaps the word is exaggerated - innovation of shifting the citric, slightly sweet freshness a few octaves in the direction of "traditional fragrance masculinity" without experimenting or deliberately teasing. A woody, (with a lot of imagination) slightly earthy substructure achieves this. This does not make the fragrance dark, but a bit harsher in comparison. I had associations with vetiver and cedar, at least for a short time. Whether from the test tube or from nature. All components are interwoven, stirred, blurred, so that in the end a rather linear, uncomplex scent emerges. Okay, it's not illegal. But art is never that.
Is that an innovative scent now? In my opinion rather no, but the result of a calculation (see above). But that doesn't make the smell worse per se. My first impression: the Sillage is in a setting that predisposes this fragrance for contact professions. Or for leisure. The durability is okay, a few hours are in it, on the clothes also half a day (of course very close). The fragrance itself is smooth, on (artificial?) wood embedded freshness.
Not really important, but I was surprised at the first trial today: My three immediate colleagues all responded to the scent, which has only happened once before (Reflection Man, of course). "Have you got a new scent?" Now I could make up a great story, but the reality was the following: The scent seems to be noticeable and can be easily distinguished from other scents. But: All three found it nice and wearable, but still a bit boring. Two of them thought that the L'Homme from YSL was "much better" (which I myself agree with). Conclusion: You certainly don't do anything wrong with this fragrance. He could really close the gap in the Dior house and put even more money in the coffers. And most buyers will be satisfied. I'm satisfied too, but not euphoric.
One more word about the name: catastrophic. To degrade a success story to the original in order to get the coveted "homme", which indicates to the buyer that this is THE central fragrance (for men) of a brand ... Oh, let's not talk about it any more ...
With Dior, up to now the real, original Hommes were in the foreground. Fragrances that would somehow be wearable every day, but are actually already a little too powerful to pass as discreet. And of course Dior Sauvage - the classic opposite of Introversion. As already mentioned: many other houses had the missing piece of the puzzle in their standard portfolio long ago. So now also Dior.
A slight resemblance to the Bleu de Chanel DNA actually suggests itself to me, with the certain - perhaps the word is exaggerated - innovation of shifting the citric, slightly sweet freshness a few octaves in the direction of "traditional fragrance masculinity" without experimenting or deliberately teasing. A woody, (with a lot of imagination) slightly earthy substructure achieves this. This does not make the fragrance dark, but a bit harsher in comparison. I had associations with vetiver and cedar, at least for a short time. Whether from the test tube or from nature. All components are interwoven, stirred, blurred, so that in the end a rather linear, uncomplex scent emerges. Okay, it's not illegal. But art is never that.
Is that an innovative scent now? In my opinion rather no, but the result of a calculation (see above). But that doesn't make the smell worse per se. My first impression: the Sillage is in a setting that predisposes this fragrance for contact professions. Or for leisure. The durability is okay, a few hours are in it, on the clothes also half a day (of course very close). The fragrance itself is smooth, on (artificial?) wood embedded freshness.
Not really important, but I was surprised at the first trial today: My three immediate colleagues all responded to the scent, which has only happened once before (Reflection Man, of course). "Have you got a new scent?" Now I could make up a great story, but the reality was the following: The scent seems to be noticeable and can be easily distinguished from other scents. But: All three found it nice and wearable, but still a bit boring. Two of them thought that the L'Homme from YSL was "much better" (which I myself agree with). Conclusion: You certainly don't do anything wrong with this fragrance. He could really close the gap in the Dior house and put even more money in the coffers. And most buyers will be satisfied. I'm satisfied too, but not euphoric.
One more word about the name: catastrophic. To degrade a success story to the original in order to get the coveted "homme", which indicates to the buyer that this is THE central fragrance (for men) of a brand ... Oh, let's not talk about it any more ...
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