Floyd

Dew sparkles on the fingers of the pines. Are a thousand pearls. Needles that freeze. Silver silhouettes of the trunks disappear in harsh earl-gray clouds that still lie silently over the high forests. There you see your thoughts go. You hear twigs cracking under timid footsteps in the clammy bushes. Then you smell the first roots stirring, awakening in the cool, dry ground, which now and again stirs up tiny clouds of cocoa dust. The wind blows cool from the aromatic herbs above the murmuring streams that meander through the meadows down into the valley and fade in the morning light
**
Karyn Gold-Reineke spent many years in the indie fragrance trade in the American Pacific Northwest before founding her label Pirouette in Seattle in 2009. She uses only natural raw materials for her award-winning creations.
This is noticeable not least again in the rather low projection of "Wander Lust", which opens with cool, fresh notes of pine needles that soon become embedded in a mist of tart black tea notes and create the impression of coniferous earl grey. Rosewood passes before the inner nose like the cracking of damp sticks and dark cocoa can be perceived in the distance before spicy, earthy nagarmotha notes take root again in the bright, cool top note and fade out the fragrance in a light, almost mineral way with rather wild-looking spices. I find the sparse but natural understatement of this fragrance very appealing and the name absolutely fitting.

(With thanks to BeJot)

Think about it, your first scout camp. You sit in the smoke by the campfire and burn your fingers on the stone. No, you don't know pain, Indian! You make yourself a band-aid out of wet hay, wrapped in damp tobacco leaves, someone sprinkles white healing powder on the outside. You have to laugh. It looks like incense sticks, the cheap ones that smell sweetly of bright flowers and colorful wood flour. Someone comes along with white spirit and the plaster melts like craft glue, drips onto the roots in the wet soil and draws purple soap streaks. Oh, Baden-Powell, then you want to go home, let the fire burn and the camp be coal.
**
The married couple Ryan and Liberty Handis founded the American niche brand Broken Anatomy in 2020. The name is based on their activities, they work full-time in the emergency room and in the medical field. Their fragrances are intended to remind us of moments that help people grow, such as moments of emotional success or physical injuries
The name "Burnt Remedy" shows that they work with a wink in their fragrance art, as it adds a "t" (burnt remedy) to the term "Burn Remedy". Logically, the fragrance opens with smoke, namely synthetically pungent wood smoke, before the smell of wet hay and damp, rather bitter tobacco emerges underneath, inlaid in powdery, woody, slightly floral cashmere, which gives the whole thing an artificial purple hue and begins to shift between the other base notes, sometimes resembling synthetic oud with the resin, sometimes sweeter, almost incense-like (chocolate, cashmere, smoke) and finally taking on more and more rooty, petrol-like aromas (vetiver), sometimes reminiscent of Russian birch tar soap in the drydown.
I feel the same way about the fragrance as Caligari mentioned below. The approach is certainly exciting, but the synthetic components blur the overall concept too much. The unorthodox burn projects moderately and for an above-average length of time.

(With thanks to Tony1106)

The time in the ashram, distant and past, lies here in the echo of the singing bowls, the meditative endless loops of her scattered thoughts. Inspired, she wanders through the India store. She rummages for memories in the smells of the things, the harsh scent of the ornate boxes made of old red cedar. I wonder what they used to keep in them. Cinnamon bark perhaps, or black nails. What were they called. I seem to have forgotten, in the green bowls, the silver streaks of camphor-cool cardamom. Their wrinkled skin still breathes remnants of roses between boxes of Indian incense sticks. Her wood powders make clouds of coal dust that smell of champaca flowers, patchouli and clove cigarettes. She spills a few drops of incense oil from the small brown bottles. Then images of the past, of the ashram, flicker. She stares into space. A smile.
**
In 2008, the Parisian company Astier de Villatte, which originally mainly produced furniture, ceramics and tableware (so beautifully described as neo-retro-bourgeois by Intersport in its review of "Tucson"), delved into the world of fragrances, initially with the help of perfumer Françoise Caron, and later in collaboration with Nathalie Feisthauer, Alexandra Monet and Christophe Raynaud. Since then, a series of noteworthy fragrances have been created, which follow both the tradition of classic colognes and the path of more modern niches. Some of them are also available in a smoking stick version.
Fittingly, this also applies to "Delhi", an EdP dedicated to the fragrances of India, which combines many things that are usually associated with Indian stores in this country, but does not overuse the usual clichés, remaining more subtle. It takes a while for the fragrance to develop. Initially, there are spicy aromas of cinnamon bark, cinnamon leaf and clove on tart, austere red cedarwood, slightly camphorous, citrusy-spicy notes (cardamom, bergamot), before the champaca blossoms on the woods unfold typical incense scents, Nag Champa is obvious, as Yatagan already mentioned in his statement, but patchouli sticks are also present. With increasing duration, an incense oil-like nuance (myrrh, unsweet, lighter than usual) as well as a hint of rose clarifies the upper notes, creating more space for associations of clove cigarettes that lie between the unlit incense sticks. "Delhi" projects moderately to up close for many hours.

(With thanks to Gandix)

Manitu has already put out the moon. Another sip of firewater, then it's darkest night. Occasionally, a small spark from the flintlock of the old shotgun illuminates the damp camp. The tiny clouds of smoke drift away with the light in the nearby gale bushes and for a moment their blazing green remains in the memory of the tired eyes. The attempt to roll a cigarette. The burley tobacco is bitter and clammy and disintegrates with the rotten leather fibers of the pouch between earthy fingers. There are thoughts of black walnut meat. They still drift remnants of resinous needles into sodden barks, then gradually sleep falls into the forest floors, like pepper dust from the cedars.
**
Solstice Scents from Gainesville, Florida produce their EdPs and oils in small batches, sometimes seasonally or in rotation. They are therefore subject to slight fluctuations and are only available at certain times, which can be found on the homepage.
"Flintlock", the flintlock rifle, creates a strangely diffuse image between earthy-moist-green, spicy-bitter, nutty-leathery, minimally smoky and musty-resinous-forest notes. Once the slightly alcoholic prelude has faded, fresh, slightly acidic green notes (honeysuckle) are perceptible before fine, light smoke leads to nutty-moddy, bitter-spicy-leathery aromas, such as dark burley tobacco leaf, old fibrous leather and moist wood bark, the character of which is then retained. Wet, earthy forest floor and a few resinous cedar needles also subtly pass before the inner eye, sharpened by shimmering cool peppery notes. A fragrance for the inner night camp of an indie urban Indian, restrained in its projection, it leaves enough room for fragrance fantasy.

(With thanks to Bloodxclat)

It's time to set off again. The next mountain is already looming over the forests and the new morning is still blowing cool from its distant white summit. You breathe in the scent of green mint, the snow crystals from inside the roots, which swirl like pastis over the sweet woods and lay veils of sharp lime peel over the clear meadows. There, drops of lily of the valley dew collect in the soft hairs of the green mimosa. It's time to set off now, from the edge of the forest you can already hear the pines whispering, the branches of the tall spruces crackle, you can smell the scent of resinous pearls on the needles of the dark cedars. Even if the path seems unclear to you, the summit still far away, don't be afraid of the unknown.
**
Even though Liz Zorn from Soivohle and Scentgrrl's Mt. Adams, her contribution to the American Perfumer series, actually alludes to the Cincinnati district of the same name, which is characterized by artists and picturesque buildings above the Ohio River, for me the cool green fragrance is more in keeping with the image of the mountain of the same name in Washington state.
It opens with a zesty freshness of sharp citrus notes that are very green-rooty-minty (kaffir lime leaf, orange blossom) and pastis-like licorice aromas (star anise). Soon, fresh, clear lily of the valley and soft, green mimosa support this impression of cool morning air in nature, before various conifer needles and woods become more subtly perceptible. The white amber, a blend of jasmine, benzoin, amber and sandalwood, adds some depth to the needles, appearing like tiny golden yellow drops of resin on the still distant trees. Mt. Adams projects moderate to skin-deep over a few cool morning hours.

(With thanks to Sir Lancelot)