Augusto

The iris tone of Apollonia is earthy, dusty, but not too dry. Almost mineral, coupled with a wood and sand impression. At first this seems tart, but gradually exudes a great overall calmness as it develops. Reminds me a bit of beige-grey ambrette scents, more tart, classy and without the sythtetic warm undertone that many dislike about ambrette. So actually much nicer. A lunar surface, but neither cold, nor dreary, but dreamy and free-flowing in the great calm and vastness of space. The matter floats.

It is for me an introverted fragrance, a new skin, a woody papery glow as if through a telescope into the distance that the scent gives me. Something through which one is far away from the petty errors and turmoil of earth reality.

In the end, the fragrance is upside down with me: the pleasant light-grey musk becomes slightly citrusy, like a reflection of a top note that didn't exist at all. Instead, we experienced the return to dusty-rocky earth powder of iris and a dull touch of white flowers already at the beginning.

All of this takes a bit of imagination, because the scent is quiet and it's easy to miss how it can seize you and carry you away into the gray-white otherworld matter that bears the name of an asteroid.

Blue-green-brown iridescent kaleidoscope of vetiver tones in cool and warm. An alternation of oriental warmth and Indonesian freshness of vetiver. Reminiscent of Vetiver Oriental by Serge Lutens, but in more vibrant and agitated. The levels merge into each other and mix as in a lava lamp.

This vetiver fragrance presents itself more splendid than the Vetiver Oriental of Lutens, resting in its velvety depth. Its sparkle invites you to dream like the lava projector's oscillation between heaven and earth in the clubs of yesteryear. The music gets louder.

On paper: bitter. On the skin: Intense citrus note of bergamot and lemon or citronate of very dense texture. In the heart, the tangy citrus note sits firmly in the saddle with a little floral sweetness over it and self-evident vital freshness.
Some musk then, with a little wood, supports, and so results in a gentle and barely noticeable white-floral really remarkably long lasting. Floral white citrus lush, glistening and dense. A little more inclined to the maculine, but who cares?

There is a fig tree in the poet's garden. In spring it does not yet bear fruit, and every morning in spring the poet goes out, steps up to the tree and grinds a green leaf between his fingers. And then the wrinkles of thought and worry on his forehead smooth out a little.

His muse, a little later, smells of flowers, as a muse should. They grow in the meadow in the green grass beside the basil. She kisses him on his forehead, still a little pale in the spring, and it smooths out completely now.

A happy whiff of citrus hangs in the air.
A lovely companion as you walk through the Jardin du Poète.

p.s.: What, no fig at all? Not even a leaf?! - Fragrance pyramids...!

This turquoise bottle dabbed with gold stars reveals a spicy-amber scent that glistens brightly and envelops warmly at the same time. For all its warmth, it has something fresh and the typical Rem hippie vibe secretly loved by AugustA, with lots of Cote d'Azur sun shining on cinnamon-brown skin.
Not vanilla is in the foreground here, but amber, as I also perceive it in the eponymous amber fragrance, but here not quite so gischtig and in comparison also not at all soapy.
Some brown sugar blends bitter spices and white flowers in the heart. What shines here so, seems to be labdanum. Resinous, ambery, woody, even a little sticky the fragrance gives itself on the skin. The sun is hot in the blue sky above the small cistus bush that blooms near the coast. At the end remains an impression of almond, which reminds me of spring and the fragrance fades gently.

Again a great Reminiscence, unfortunately no longer have