Aolani

I had to have that bottle! It is packed in a sunny yellow box with a dark yellow flower and gold rim. The glass takes up the pattern of the petals, the liquid glows warm yellow and the cap is decorated with a yellow plastic flower.
Daisy comes from the Old English of Daegeseage and means day eye. This is the popular term for all kinds of composite flowers such as daisies and daisies. Every child knows her, perhaps by other names - Maßliebchen, Marienblume, Himmelblume, Moonlightblume or Tausendschön. They bloom on almost every meadow, invite bees, bumble bees and hover flies to visit and show everyone their smiling faces.
Most famous Daisy is Donald Duck's fashion-conscious girlfriend with the colored bow in her hair and matching shoes. Some of them certainly unforgettable - the dog of a Munich fashion king. Or Daisy Miller - a literary character. Not to forget Princess Daisy - the first lady of the Hai Society, who did not give her invitations so far away from my favorite city W..

I bought the fragrance in W. From the shopping gallery I walked a few steps to a place next to a former monastery. A few blocks away, the traffic's passing by. Pedestrians rarely go through here, which is unusual because most people choose shortcuts. Tourists rush to a place of interest nearby, but nobody can see what is nearby. The place almost looks like wasteland that I love so much. Kind of abandoned. Grass sprouts through the cracks of the pavement slabs, dandelions and daisies bloom on the meadow.
I like these untamed last corners of our otherwise so cleanly licked cities. They're still here, in the middle of town. Next to the church there are large boulders. I feel like an archaeologist when I look at her. Beside strange figures, relics of a church column with figures and masks. Just standing there, unnoticed.
When you see something every day, you don't see it. That may be the case with the daisy.

The fragrance starts with a bee sting - something stings my nose, looks synthetic, even if the citric follows immediately. It tickles a little, I think of sparkling champagne and that's how it smells. I perceive lime only as soft accompanying music. It lends a youthful touch, something lively, enterprising. The scent of summer, when there was nothing better for thirst than lemon soda.
Aunt Bergamot's appearance. For my nose once again as an elderly aunt who wipes a child's face with a wet handkerchief, but this one is friendly. She's smiling. Something pompous is also there, only what? The aunt agrees with a glass of sparkling wine, which is no longer sparkling, but rather a little stale. Happily she rests on the sofa and lets herself be replenished. Sparkling, effervescent.
After half an hour, the scent becomes milder, as soft as the light of the evening sun. It still smells citric. A hint of orange, even though it's not listed. And still there is this light note of sparkling bubbles of sparkling wine. That tickles me. And then I easily get a headache and I get sick. Ew. I'm really nauseous. Maybe it's not the scent. I've just been looking at too much of the past. Too stirred up in the family soup.
The heart is citric and too cold for me. The basis is Kashmiri Musk. The culprit turns the daisy into daisies that smell like cheese to my nose.

Daisies have magic. They remind us of our childhood, when we gave ourselves to the moments, to these endless summers. On the meadows, daisies picked daisies, woven a chain from them or gave the bouquet to their mothers, the stems very warm from the child's hand. How proud we were when she put the daisies in a little vase.

Today, like most adults, we hunt tomorrow or a part of our self is still wandering through the past. No matter what storms rage in life, what man does, the daisy is already there and comes again.
Childhood does not come back (in many cases this is certainly a good thing). The vanished land - this is what Astrid Lindgren called the closed gate to childhood. When she woke up one morning and couldn't play anymore. Something was lost forever.
Back at the hotel I wash off the scent, which proves to be quite stubborn. In desperation, I smear toothpaste on the back of my hands and let it dry. That helps.
Meanwhile I am back from W. and the bottle embellishes my desk. If any of your colleagues would like to test Daisy, please feel free to do so. The main thing is I don't have to water it. And if I'm in a bad mood, the bottle conjures the sunshine into my face.
You are my sunshine, my only sunshine
You make me happy when days are blue

No matter what storms rage in life, what man does, the daisies come back. I don't want to live in a country without daisies.
The bottle will remind me of W., where life began before me. W. is a vanished country, but without this vanished there would be no me. What am I looking for? That's another story. And Daisy reminds me of all those past moments.

By the way - today I would have needed an aunt with a handkerchief. There was chocolate ice cream all around my mouth. Whatever. I got Daisy.

The perfume actually smells like lipstick. I'm 6 years old, it's carnival and Hokulani - my little sister - and I try on the costumes Mama made for us. Carefully we slip in so that the pins don't prick us. For us Mama takes those with the round, colourful heads.

At the carnival ball we wear our costumes. Mama strokes her lipstick on our cheeks, rubs it a little and somehow we like it and somehow we don't like it either. Our mama hardly ever wears lipstick. I love this colour and every now and then I take the cap off and smell it. Only the feeling on our cheeks when she draws a circle with her lipstick and rubs it in, we don't like that much.

Hokulani wears a grass green felt top with applications on it - a lantern, a bright red fly agaric with white dots and a hammer. On the head a pointed pointed pointed cap, also made of grass green felt.
For me Mama made a skirt out of lilac fabric, like the calyx of a bellflower. And a hat - on the head sits a flower, on top a short, dark green stem.
Mama guessed our souls with the costumes - later, when I grew out of the bellflower, she sewed me a princess dress. And Hokulani becomes a bellflower until the costume becomes too small for her too. Princess - no, Hokulani never wanted to be that. And I never wanted to be a garden gnome. The costumes fit to our children's souls and somehow I am still a princess and Hokulani today, tender as an elf in a bellflower grove.

For me, all this is Lipstick Rose, which smells similar to lipstick, even with this slightly greasy note. Maybe it's the mixture of rose and violet that I like so much. Vanilla gives the fragrance a slight sweetness, vetiver prevents it from becoming too sticky. According to the official website, the top notes are grapefruit, violet and rose, the heart are currant and iris and the base vanilla, sandalwood and musk. The fragrance doesn't develop much and I can't smell blackcurrant, grapefruit or iris. I float on clouds and am happy. Remind me of how Mama made herself up, which happened very rarely and gave her something mysterious, because Hokulani and I didn't know her like that. We watched her and when she was gone, there was still a touch of lipstick and making herself beautiful in the bathroom, so we didn't feel so alone when she went out with Dad and an older cousin looked after us. The scent reminds me of this other world, when my mother transformed herself like a butterfly. If I wear this fragrance I feel more elegant and stylish...a bit more lady...and I play again and again with the thought to make it the signature fragrance. Every time I wear it, I feel more beautiful...and think of the old lipstick and our mother's tailoring...

For centuries the moon has exerted a mysterious attraction on us humans. Cause for ebb and flow, it was and is inspiration for poets and dreamers, painters and musicians.
The moon has risen, Dark Side of the Moon, Moonlight Shadow and Moon Night - my favourite poem by Eichendorff, whose lyrical beginning lets me float away and whose end tears my heart every time. Jules Verne - De la Terre á la Lune. The journey to the moon - still a science fiction film in 1902 - became reality in 1969.

The moon leads man into the depths, to himself. Seemingly unreachable, he faithfully orbits the earth. He never shows us his back.
Everyone is a moon and has a dark side which he never shows to anybody.
(Mark Twain)
I could go on raving about the moon in paintings, poems and songs.
Frequently sung moon and now also eponym of fragrances. Moon Dance is the name Juliette has a gun for the fragrance from the Luxury Collection in the silver transparent bottle with purple liquid. A curved font with shadows adorns the bottle. Perfumer is Romano Ricci, great-grandson of Nina Ricci. With Juliette has a gun he has realized his dreams. And as so often in his scents, he composes contrasts into a harmonious whole.

Moon Dance starts with slightly mothy bergamot. Dark rose and tuberose are dancing around. A violet joins the line, it dances with both.
Patchouli woven with the moonlight...actually I don't like a patch...too basement, too earthy. But maybe that's exactly what a dance on the moon needs - something that earths. The silver cool moonbeam needs the earthy warmth of the patchouli.
The fragrance becomes powdery. Slightly sweet without becoming too sweet.
Even if you don't like patch or tuberose, the fragrance is very harmonious. Only in the first hour it crashes.
A beautiful, erotic fragrance that gives a mystical, mysterious aura. A faithful companion for the evening, for going out and for intimate hours for two.
Seductive, elegant, noble...wicked...A fragrance with depth. A fragrance that unites contrasts. Romantic and provocative, devoted and independent. For people who love and live passion! For Romeo and Juliet, who now has a gun.
The moon borrows its light from the sun. His silver mirror on the water fascinates...he will still be there when we are no longer...the fear of infinity, of our own finiteness...

"Germany did not buy it", the nice gentleman at the Guerlain stand explained to me after he had improved my pronunciation. Suffle, like little Suffle, not Suuufleee.
I'm angry at myself. I had tested the perfume in Wroclaw (Wrots-uaw - the l spoken with the stick like a fast ua, like in English well - the English say Wrots-love).
There was the scent at D's. And here not at all? He cannot be found on the website, not even in the neighbouring country. Very, very annoying, I thought I could buy the scent at the airport in Wroclaw. I'm afraid they didn't have him there. And now it doesn't exist in all of Germany? Grumble.
If you look at the list of proud owners of the fragrance, they are scattered all over the world - Belgium, Romania and Latvia, from Vietnam via Hong Kong to Australia and the USA. Everywhere there seems to be this scent, only Guerlain-Germany didn't buy it? Why - I forgot to ask this question to the nice gentleman.

To the fragrance:
Start with green notes. Nothing special, I thought.
But then - it is as if it would become light on the wrist. The day breaks over Shalimar. White flowers unfold their scent. Indian jasmine bewitches the senses. The air is filled with orange blossoms. A dream of a garden. Intoxicated by this shining, glowing heart, it radiates into your own heart and conjures up a smile on your face. With an enraptured smile I walk through the world. No matter what unwillingness may come, in the garden of love it cannot harm me. The vanilla is wonderfully soft and benzoin makes the base round and creamy. A cuddly scent.

And what does that have to do with the original Shalimar?
The sapphire blue bottle takes up the shape of the bottle designed by Raymond Guerlain in 1925. The curves symbolize the water basins in the Shalimar Gardens, the fan-shaped stopper the eternal fountains.
Those who wear Shalimar succumb to their own sensuality - according to Jacques Guerlain about the Shalimar he created. The Souffle Intense is creamier, softer, greener and at least as enchanting.

I seriously considered going to Wroc?aw again. First, I love the city with its open, colorful atmosphere and second, there is Shalimar Souffle Intense.
I got the scent after all - in the souk, thanks to a lovely parfuma. My next trip to Wroclaw with a visit to the Botanical and Japanese Garden will take almost a year. Until then, thanks to Shalimar Souffle Intense, I travel to other realms, to the garden of my dreams.

The oriental scent is wearable on cool days, rather for ladies, but also for brave men. It lends style and elegance and a sense of well-being. Opulent sensuality with addictive factor.

Roses can be difficult, the Little Prince already knew that. These roses here are from Grasse, not proud diva-like roses. Rosa centifolia, the hundred-petalled rose, also known as Provence Rose or Rose de Peintre, can often be found in paintings by Dutch and Flemish painters - wonderful still lifes with filled roses.

The white flacon shimmers like mother-of-pearl and lies comfortably in the hand - a true hand-smoother - like a shell that has been found. Only the scent has nothing to do with the sea.

The fragrance starts flowery, the rose is immediately there. Something fruity is also in the process of smelling my blackberry, although currants are indicated in the fragrance pyramid. Then I mean to smell white flowers and - the rose. The scent becomes lighter. Like in the morning, when the night gives way to the day and it suddenly becomes bright, without the sun being visible. I know that impression only from Guerlains. It gets a little powdery sometime, but not dusty, not too much powder.

Nothing here is intrusive or exaggerated. All fragrances are finely interwoven. The shelf life is good, the Sillage is in the middle range. You can feel from the beginning that this is a noble rose - a pearl. A precious bouquet of flowers captured in a bottle decorated with small pearls. A feminine, elegant fragrance, well wearable even at very high temperatures.