Bloodxclat

This morning I was sitting in the car, in my linen shirt, already 27c outside temperature, and from the speakers Rey Cabrera purrs something of Santa Clara and Che Guevara. I am also surrounded by this legendary scent from Florence. I must confess, I had a Cuban influence on the scenery.

A long time ago we were a few days ago in Viñales, rural Cuba, in a small red house in the middle of the tobacco fields. Our two women had run off with the 17-year-old farmer's son next door and three horses. What else could we do but sit on the flat roof of our one-storey house? Smoking cigars. Drinking rum. Look at the fields. Listening to the sounds of the Guajira from the crackling transistor radio from somewhere. We drank the rum as Canchanchara, 6 parts Santiago de Cuba Ron, 1 part lime, and fresh honey. All day long.
When the Cuban youth took pity on himself and brought back our women at sunset safe and sound, but sweaty, dirty and smelling like horses, the feast on the roof continued of course. That's how you can spend days in Cuba.

Acqua di Cuba, a simple interplay of leather, tobacco, lemon soap and honey. The tobacco is different, different than in Czeach&Speakes Cuba, different than in Feuilles de Tabac by Miller Harris, different than in Aramis Havana. The tobacco is green, fresh, no dark fermented tobacco, not smoky, but light green grated tobacco leaves. The honey is beautifully beeswax-like, never too sweet and very present. The leather saddle is highly polished, but damn old, already innumerable years it carried its owner on the tobacco fields around. And this interesting animalism - generated by the interaction of these few ingredients is very attractive.

For me personally, the theme of Cuba was perfectly captured by Santa Maria Novella here - as you can easily see. A summer scent, loud, conspicuous, special, sexy. Above average Sillage, extremely good durability (+12h). I'd advise against blind buying. This is very individual.

If you have riding friends in your circle of acquaintances, put them on and enjoy the reactions. Priceless!

While searching for a summer fragrance with Italian flair, I came across Francesca Bianchi's Etruscan Water.

The fragrance pyramid says a lot - the fragrance goes in a special direction, which leaves me helpless. I can't push the fragrance into a drawer with the best will in the world - and that's exactly what's so brilliant and beautiful about it.

A wonderfully citric beginning, there is grapefruit peel, crushed lemon leaves, some bergamot. A wonderful citrus chord, green, juicy, but bitter, ladies and gentlemen, nothing with fruity.
Then it goes quickly and the barks, juices, roots, and sweaty skin is added. The scent goes in a dark green earthy direction. Bitter, oily, herbaceous, the iris root and the resins show their full potential, accompanied by heavy white flowers. Jasmine, maybe some neroli. There's also caraway, of course, but it doesn't bother you at all, it's a wonderful caraway.
Up to here an absolute experience, this is sexy, this is animalistic, this is damn cool and I can not get enough of it smell. The scent is constantly changing, a soapy note is added, some fresh laundry. A chameleon in the Tuscan Forest.

Durability is very good, 8h+, worn today at almost 30c.

He leaves me helpless. Is that something for me? Can I carry this? Can anyone wear this? The fragrance is extremely complex, fascinating and I have never smelt anything like it before. He's loud and impetuous and untamed and has no rules. A scent for sabre-toothed tiger tamers. For truffle pig trainers. For peat collectors. For earthworm searchers. For mole hijackers. But just so great. I'm at a loss

After last year's holidays in Sardinia, where I fell in love with Ginepro Nero from L'Herbolario, but only marginally, I had to get an Italian-influenced summer scent for this year. Dry as a bone, I want it without sweetness, without bells and whistles, without fruit. Like my wine, my summer scent is said to be 19.

In the forum the fragrance was discussed, so I went to Zurich to a great perfumery and Terralba was found.

In Sardinia, my daughter was dying to see wild horses. So we drove to the Giara di Gesturi, a plateau between countless volcanic craters. An extraterrestrial landscape, dry, hot, macchia and low mixed forest characterize the landscape. Mastic, wild thyme, olive trees, cork oaks, sage, mint, immortelle, cistus. At 36c and scorching sun, these macchia plants give off wonderful aromas, which fly omnipresent in various intensities into the nose.

And that's how Terralba smells. Wild, herbaceous, resinous, sandy, earthy. A fresh start with sour intense lemon, the full load of thyme, curry leaf and sage. Later warm wood is added and gnarled old sticky trees from which the white resin drips.

It's just so authentic, unbelievable. The scent remains very pleasant, intense herbs and citric in the beginning, after 30min the scent becomes more resinous and the curry leaf is added. I see parallel with Durgas Cowboy Grass on herbs, but the thyme was too stinging for me. At Terralba everything is fine knitted, round, a beautiful overall picture.

The scent is brilliant in the heat, so authentic, I almost see the horses before my eyes again.

Durability is a minus point, we have there after 4h transmission break. Actually a killer argument to me, but I don't care here. Spray again, cool, enjoy.

Absolute recommendation to test, who looks for a different summer scent, without fruit drowning and Calone, Terralba is sometimes something different.

And now I'm going to water my herb garden, sit in the garden chair and maybe I'll treat myself to a splash of Terralba. To summer!

06.55h, Berastagi, Central Sumatra, Indonesia:

A few steps out of the city, the fresh air is free. Out we go. A little bus, sacks of spices and herbs. A dusty brown track leads to the foot of Gunung Sibayak.

The sun's a little higher, it's getting hot. The moisture remains in the valley. A narrow steep path leads up the volcano. Meter-high bamboo plants form an impenetrable tunnel. Eucalyptus and old sandalwood trees protrude from the undergrowth. Red ginger blossoms bloom along the wayside. Countless green cardamom capsules hang deep hidden in the bushes.

The air becomes drier, more mineral, thinner. Chunks of volcanic rock line the paths. The thicket thins out, the path becomes steeper and stonier. The air is clear, hot and fresh.


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Basse Terre, Guadeloupe, Lesser Antilles.
Around noon on the dusty market place, the sun burns mercilessly on the old spice seller, who fills the glasses with fresh cardamom and nutmeg on his old white wooden boards. The young woman behind him ties her Bwe Bandé carefully but firmly with a thin string. Didi, the man with the tequila fruit, grinds green mangoes. Drumbeats penetrate from the nearby cemetery - incense, resin and dry herbs are burned