DerOlfaktor

I don't know what it means,
that I'm so sad;
a scent from the old days,
i can't get it out of my mind.

And even like the skipper from the poem "The Lore-Ley," this scent seizes me with wistfulness - wistfulness of what once was and what will seemingly be lost forever.

Green Irish Tweed was the first fragrance to expand the price structure of my small collection upwards - effectively removing the perfume price tag. I remember, as if it were today, in which store I sniffed this fragrance for the very first time and decided to buy it. It was a small drugstore in the little town of Baden, in Switzerland.
On both my shoulders sat the little white angel and the little red devil, both of whom were arguing over who had the right of opinion, hurling their respective pros and cons at the head of the other little brother. When the angel saw me pull out my credit card to give the saleswoman a receipt for my agreement to the purchase, he forgot all manners and decency: "Are you out of your mind, so much money for such a small glass bottle! 170 francs for 75 milliliters and a violation of the 5th deadly sin, gluttony (gula)! Shame on you!" I thought I could tell that the little devil was turning a very tiny bit darker red at his little brother's outbursts.
We were then both able to placate him and assure him that he would be given an extra spray every time he was sprayed. He then started again, "I don't want that devil stuff ..., etc. etc."

From that time on, Green Irish Tweed was one of my specialists, which I took with me primarily on business trips. When the tie was tied early in the morning, there were a few heavy sprays behind the ear cups, on the shirt collars and the tie knot. Even in the most tired sessions, after lunch, when the organism sinks into its low for the day, and when the air in the room becomes stuffy and the temperature is high, I always had the freshness of wide meadows and pastures right under my nose and mentally before my eyes.

What always excited me about this fragrance was its top note with this slightly pungent freshness. Perhaps one or the other knows the feeling when you eat a Mentos chewy candy on a hot summer day, drink an ice-cold cola with it and then inhale deeply through the mouth. Then - at least for me - the water level in the lower eyelids rises and gives you the feeling of total refreshment. I suspect it is the combination of verbena and peppermint that imprints such unique perception on this fragrance. When I go to the Parfumo page to see the fragrances that have verbena as an ingredient, second only to Green Irish Tweed is Acqua di Parma's Colonia, which I also own. But since this is now not at all comparable to the Green Irish Tweed, it must be the combination of verbena and peppermint that makes the British so unique.

Almost makes it unique!

The long list of comments on this fragrance suggests it, there is a twin: Cool Water by Davidoff. And indeed, both eau de toilette/perfume go - as far as the direction of the fragrances - in the same direction, which is probably not surprising - after all, both have the same perfumer as a creator.

But something has always put me off Cool Water. I suspect rose geranium - or some variant of geranium. Even in my childhood and youth, I gave these plants a wide berth; I could never stand that iron-like, earthy tone. Even in my parents' garden, I wondered how bees could voluntarily fly to the flowers in the summer. And not for nothing do dogs, cats and birds give these flowers and blossoms a wide berth. The smell keeps away many representatives from the fauna. In my opinion, this scent has always given Cool Water a smell of damp cardboard. Such a slight musty scent pushes the eau de toilette to the ground throughout the wear time. I would love to know how Cool Water would smell without rose geranium.

The trick with Green Irish Tweed was to weave variety into the scent. Towards the end, Green Irish Tweed always smelled slightly powdery-smooth - almost cloying. And yet always held the upbeat tone until the end.

And today?
Green Irish Tweed is offered today in this black opaque bottle. The large bottling has 100 milliliters of capacity and due to many special offers you can get it relatively cheap compared to other Creed fragrances. If I get it in the tester version, I pay no more than for my then 75 milliliter bottle in full regalia.

But it's not the same anymore. Sure, Cred scents are probably the scents whose olfactory perception varies among the many vendors from batch to batch among the most. (In the case of the better-known Aventus, entire denominations have now formed.)
Compared to the Cool Water, the Green Irish Tweed has approached this in my opinion. I have here the violet leaf in the suspicion. Violets, like geraniums and perlagonias, also belong to the Rosidae and Eurosidae families of plants, respectively. The same dull, slightly musty cardboard scent now clings to this fragrance. Clearly, Green Irish Tweed is still the stronger of the two scents, but it has lost its freshness, its effervescence. A heavy violet staple covers everything. I still owned a small remnant of the old scent, so I was able to compare 1:1. Yes, the basic direction is still the same, but the details are changed.

And so I was seized by melancholy and panic that now also this fragrance had to go the way of many of its peers. It is like after a long not made visit or call: "No, the Mr. Greed no longer works here. He left years ago."

I spent last night scouring the internet for variations of my original treasure that were still available. A small perfumery in the Rhine Valley, in the canton of St. Gallen actually still had it on sale at noon today. The little white angel insisted that I go there today and buy it directly. When I said that it could wait, the little devil and the little angel wrote a protest note - especially sharply worded. I then called them and had the last two flacons sent to me. If now the courier driver is still nice and careful to work, I have Tuesday my darling again in the hands - 2 x 75 milliliters and in a transparent glass flacon.

I will therefore rate Green Irish Tweed with the mark 9.5 - but the older variant. The new representative I would only issue a certificate equal to its cardboard companion. Based on today's purchase experience, I dwell on memories, not disappointment.

The skipper of the little ship
it seizes him with wild woe;
he does not look at the rocky reefs,
he only looks up to the heights.