Fengaraki

For a long time now, eyewear shops have no longer distinguished between ladies' (left wall) and men's models (right wall). Women wear a grey single-breasted suit just as confidently as men wear a pink sweater. The more renowned manufacturers of niche and exclusive fragrances now only use one bottle shape for all fragrances - where there used to be an optical distinction (for example, in Parfums de Nicolaï), it was eventually abolished.

The perfume mass market seems to be one of the last bastions of the old gender thinking that is in decline. Whenever a women's fragrance has been launched in the last twenty years, the only question has been which sweet fruit embedded in sweet blossoms would be the focus this time. Violations of the dictates of taste were punished immediately: When in 2011 the dusty, bitter Shalimar Parfum Initial was praised, which did not want to fit into the pseudo-girlish pattern, but, slightly old and young, oscillated somewhere between bad breath and brothel visits, I thought: "Well, Guerlain has guts!" - the perfume, together with its only despairing flanker, disappeared from the shelves faster than you could moan "L'Eau"

Let's come to No. 19. No, it is not a chypre scent, because an echo of the characteristic hesperidic-mossy chord is certainly present, but, unlike with actual green chypre perfumes (cf. Alliage), it remains in the background. But where does that bitter freshness come from that immediately makes you think of a chypre? It is, besides the large dose of galbanum (cf. (again) Aliage), probably above all the quality of the raw materials of the floral centre. Yes, No. 19 is a floral fragrance - but everything sweet, soft, flattering is foreign to this composition. Instead, the merciless emphasis on the sharp-green-bitter-fresh aspect of all the flowers ensures that No. 19 shines with no sweetness whatsoever. This impression is most obvious in the eau de toilette, the most extreme; so anyone who is not available for half measures should go for this one.

No. 19 is not a fragrance of the heart, but of the mind; it does not seduce, but makes clear announcements. It mocks the primitive image of women in the whole fancy beauty department. If Chanel, as the leading house on the market (instead of the in every respect unbelievably mediocre Gabrielle) had launched this 1971 fragrance today as an interpretation of a contemporary female ideal, it would have been tantamount to a much-needed revolution.

Among all the spicy, sporty men's fragrances of the recent past, "Bleu de Chanel" is by far the most refined - and it is precisely this refinement that is its cardinal flaw. Yes, the hardly isolatable lemony, woody and spicy aspects of the fragrance combine to form a harmonious whole. However, the bridge between high-minded concept and profane object fails - the most elegant sneaker in the world does not match the tailcoat or the jogging suit.

While the related "Cool Water" radiates uncouth joie de vivre, "Bleu" freezes in sophisticated banality. This time, chiselled refinement leads to an aesthetic impasse and the fragrance becomes a monument to the hubris of a leading perfume house that believes it can replace intellectual originality with technical perfection.