AromaX

Narcisse Noir creates an illusion of a non-existent flower which is quite convincing. The dry green bitterness with oil-paint like nuance evokes the image of narcissus. And the animalic darkness of civet in the base does paint it black. Although reading about this fragrance makes me to think that the original version of this perfume was much heavier on civet than its modern interpretations. But to me Narcisse Noir is mostly about the orange blossom. It represents an interesting aspect of the orange flower which I perceive as a slow thickening of sunlight during a sunset. The color changes from a warm orange glow to a dark orange and almost brown before it falls into the darkness. Warm, sultry, heady and definitely fatal.

Behind the rain by Paul Schütze

This fragrance can show me a different variety of the rain smell, the one I couldn't find a reference for inside my memory bank. It has brought me to a forest I couldn't recognize. Thick trunks covered with dark bark that was appearing almost black when wet. The air filled with an unfamiliar scent. Not that balsamic sweetness of pine trees like here in Netherlands, but rather a fresh and tart, a little bit camphorous smell of lentisque. The rain? I recognize its presence by wet freshness in the air filled with aromatic smell of herbs, earth and wet wood. The moment after the rain when the smells of the forest become so prominent. My imaginary landscape of this perfume is built up on a contrast between black, dark rusty brown and tender green.

Vetiver plays the leading role in this composition balancing on the contrast of dark woody notes and a fresh green aspect of the roots. The smell accentuates the sharp aspects of vetiver, but at the same time feels quite comfortable. The core is supported by the aromatic herbs and the freshness of mastique resin and frankincense. I keep getting a phantom of the tobacco leaves mixed with a touch of coffee. The illusion that adds a spirit of a true adventurer who enjoys a good pipe and drinks his coffee from an iron mug while taking a pauze before he starts to explore the alien woods again. It's more on the masculine side. The tobacco and coffee illusion seemed to be familiar to me reminding of Bell'Antonio by Hilde Soliani.

On the website of Paul Schütze this scent is described as "A glowing vetiver, enlivened with grapefruit and pepper with a heart of frankincense and patchouli." It refers to to an experience of a sudden rainstorm at an island on the Aegean sea: "as the storm ends, the warmth of the emerging sun on bruised foliage coaxes waves of resinous fragrance that wash down onto our place of shelter under a stand of conifer trees"

There are several cherry blossom trees I can admire from my window. Each year when the spring reaches its peak they celebrate the moment with a magnificent sea of pink blossoms. It doesn't last long as those pink clouds start to fade filling the air with a rain of tender petals. And in a week or two it's all gone...

Those Sakura blossoms do not posses any smell, so for a long time I could only imagine what they might smell like. The most suggestions from the world of perfumery were tending towards the sugar plums trying to sell their pink sugar for Sakura blossoms. But now I've got a chance to try a Sakura perfume made by a Japanese perfumer Satori Osawa who knows many of cherry blossom variations from her land and studied the smell of the fragrant ones.

On a blotter the perfume smells more like wet white petals giving me an impression of blossoming blackthorn falling its petals into a dark cold water during the early spring. But warmed by my skin the scent becomes much more rosy. Like young pelican birds who believed to turn pink by sucking the blood from their mother's chest, those pale petals eagerly drink the warmth of my skin to turn into beautiful pink blossoms. A ripe and fruity but yet gentle aspect of a plum appears from a background. In contrast with its sugar babe sisters Sakura by Satori serves her cherry blossoms without added sweeteners. In fact it becomes even salty closer to its woody base like the taste of tears about the spring gone too soon.

According to Satori the aroma of Sakura perfume is similar to a traditional Japanese scented sachet called "nioi-bukuro". That is a little paper bag filled with Japanese incense to put into furniture, the sleeves of kimono or around the neck.

I grabbed for this scent when the tropic heat hit the city of Amsterdam. "So it's time for a tropical scent" - was my thought. Paris Fidji offers a mix of orange and grapefruit with a sandalwood infused rum. Satinwood wraps my skin with a milky sweetness enriched with vanilla and coconut nuances. Not sure if I really smell coconut or just imagine that, but the illusion is strong enough to sketch white buildings among the palms under the azure skies. A relaxing vacation feeling. The citrus part keeps swinging between the candied fruit and either Quantro of Grand Marnier liquor. With just a whiff of ripe and juicy "bloody" orange. Feeling of vacation at white sand beach? Check! Cocktails? Served! So, let's party! Much more fun than just to suffer from heat and complain about weather.ch? Check! Cocktails? Served! So, let's party! Much more fun than just to suffer from heat and complain about weather.

A sweet amber with a prominent note of old wood and a touch of tar reminding me of old ships. A warm sultry spice accord that raises like the heat trapped inside the wooden barrels and pavement stones after the sunset. Patchouli and tonka beans flirting with each other within a chocolate encounter. A soothing touch of rose petals and a burning sip of Port Wine.

The story of this tango refers to the ports somewhere in Buenos Aires or Montevideo bringing the romanticized image of shipping. Where the hot air is infused with an exotic mix of tarred wood, spices and chocolate. Where the port wine drinking crew member amuse themselves with a tango dance while trying to escape from boredom between hard work and passing out drunk.

The sillage of Tango is quite modest, the scent keeps close to the skin. As probably any intimate moment should be.

Somehow I keep to get a lot of flashbacks coming from the works of Serge Lutens. An old wood infused amber from Amber Sultan, sultry spices from Vitriol d'Oeillet, silky coolness of rose petals from Santal Majuscule, chocolate pathouli from Borneo 1834... Well, I guess being a fan of Serge makes my mind to use his works as reference points...