Fluxit

Tomato green polarizes as a smell. And since I've read the "Leaf to Root" cookbook, it also seems to be the case in the culinary field, because while tomato green is generally classified as rather poisonous, there are some star chefs who use it - carefully dosed - to season their dishes. If this seems negligent, I recommend the INCI ingredient list of your favorite fragrance ;)

For me, tomato green is a kind of favourite fragrance and so far I have only rarely been able to clearly perceive it in perfumes. The highlight of the disappointment was the promising "Tomato Leaf" by Illuminium. All the more beautiful, then, that the light came on unexpectedly with Lumen Naturae. Beautiful head, clear green tomato note imprinted and citric underlay. I like it, but it's over way too fast.
The next phase reminds me of flower water, quite unused, but compared to the fresh start no longer the winning lot. A floral element already smells through, I would have typed on a distant representative of the geranium house. And then, unexpectedly, resin. Not creaky, but rather slightly moist in the light sultriness and a bit sticky to creamy. Its warmth is clearly recognizable, which replaces the lively head.
After about an hour, an almost dusty powdery, peppery sharpness is added in the background. Freshly grated nutmeg. Maybe cardamom. This dryness quickly counteracts the humid impression and accompanies Lumen Naturae for one to two more hours until it has settled into the honey resinous sweetness already indicated before, where it fades away after 10 hours.

Many contrasts unite here. I give 8.0 points for Lumen Naturae but find it more interesting than beautiful. I wish he'd kept more of that great tomato leaf. Then there would be green light for further use.

Currants don't always work. Scratchy, sweaty, sour, ... for those who want to experience them in an authentic and pleasant way, the "Malena" offered by Fueguia is recommended.

La Cautiva is a completely different pavement and clearly gourmand terrain. Fruity-soft, almost some chewing gum sweetness in the beginning. Slightly sour, but no more than a rhubarb sprinkling buried under pudding. Harmoniously round and above all ... delicious! In the course of the hours, a note of caramel fired with flame fires fantasies with crème brûlée. Some malt, or toffee in places. A perfume dessert that does not slip through the currant into the incompatible sweetness. Tastes!

But La Cautiva doesn't just want to be dessert, because the prisoner who beguiled the Indian survived almost three days with me, including showers. I confirm Fröschlein's comment on the good durability, almost creepily good performance for a natural fragrance.

For me, gourmands often fall into the category "I really like to smell them, but I don't wear them very often and get tired of them very quickly". La Cautiva I would also rather classify in the feminine corner. Nevertheless, if I had a bottling plant in my house, I would want to carry it from time to time. Or smell of someone nice who can be close to me. Tastes good!

My girlfriend brings in a panicle of currants, fruits, leaves, stalk.
"Don't exaggerate," I say. "Fine. Of course."

A little later she adds a grapefruit.
"Don't exaggerate," I say. "Fine. Of course."

A little later she brings in a vase with flower water.
"Exaggerated," I say. "Of course less beautiful."

The unexpectedly unfresh and geranium-like end of Malena is a little foxing for me.
Nevertheless, the scent remains sympathetic to me. And that's actually due to the base note. Because producing a perfume with a natural currant smell is no small challenge: I'm often annoyed by the cassis scratching or a freshly sour long-windedness. Malena knows how to bypass both. It stings a little, but unsynthethically natural and also not forever long.
In addition, the currant-grapefruit combination arrives incredibly natural, which even for a natural fragrance brand is not automatically given. In its light-footed authenticity it sometimes even surpasses my currant house scent "L'Ombre dans L'Eau", which is more perfumed and cumbersome. Even if I don't like the fading phase as much, I mark Malena as a test recommendation, because I can imagine that the softer base will be appreciated by other noses and thus offers a round natural fragrance.

"Vera. The real thing.
And beyond that the biological Latin second name of the real lavender.
Can you find this one here?

I really don't like Roxana Illuminated as a brand. On the one hand, she caused nothing but trouble for our natural fragrance project through late answers up to complete ignorance. And the website is terribly messy. Links go nowhere, I have to browse five pages to find Vera at all and if I use the search instead, I find two handfuls of products, of which more than half are sold out. Since Roxana studied Communication Arts, I take it all a little personally against her. It doesn't help that her grandfather already produced Neroli Cologne and that she herself has almost twenty years of experience in the perfume business. I think it's good that she has beehives in her garden in California to cover at least part of the ground mass (beeswax + jojoba oil) of her solids locally.

*Fragrance*
Vera lets my grumpy test defiance run away, winged. A lovely start, then fresh green and orange-citric, both steamed in warm smelling beeswax but in a good mood. Lavender in the sunshine. Petitgrain?
It's really nice.
From memory, a loose scent twin to Lush's "What Would Love Do". Retest will be made up.
After two or three hours, a slightly woody, earthy undertone interferes and the fragrance darkens. Smoky, with the same friendliness. Vera is more Annika than Pippi - good instead of wild. But on some days this is just right.

The Sillage is mau. The first time I try it, I attribute it to the economical scoop I poked out of the wax-sealed tin. The more generous retest gives the perfume about 7-8h more durability (= the whole working day, that's ok), but does little to change the low radiance. Well, even a low-sillage perfume can lift me out of a boring telephone conference into olfactory clouds on my wrist. A little more intensive I would have wished for the fragrance but still.

Finally Vera reminds me of two other brands:
- For Strange Women who sell similarly chic jewelry boxes for their solid perfume fabrics. However, their solid perfumes are much harder, which makes them feel less intense, but much more efficient.
- Aftelier, whose solids are of similar soft consistency, smell great and then also dither with Sillage & durability.
Despite initial reluctance, I realize that Roxana is fantastically situated with these brand references.
Even though her three other fragrances I have tested lag far behind this summer fragrance, I like to award Vera with the wish list star. And that's nothing but the truth.

Despite a good vocabulary I probably never heard the "crepuscular" from the description of the fragrance in my life and declare it my favourite word of the week. Twilight active. Moment - wasn't that withheld from the "Malachite's Dusk" of the same brand?

Sola Laudanum gives me the second language puzzle. Blessed sun or something ... no wrong, complete. "Just resin." Or morphine painkillers, according to that. I believe immediately the first, because in spite of the pyramid to the defiance here from head to base with enough dark resin is thrown around itself, in order to putty against the current storms all windows of a small family dwelling rainproof.

Anyone who tries this is briefly caught by a dark alcoholic resin noise moment. Maybe morphine? No, the apothecary dustiness of a summer field impregnates the shadowy moment. By no means as woody as indicated by the ingredients, but rather the fruity-sweet resin direction, as you might find it in a morphine based product. Vodka pickled fig. Deep and clear, radiant in its darkness. Twilight active is long over, here the night is already coming up.

I would like to emphasize separately Sola Laudanums durability. Not only does it easily last the whole day with a manageable Sillage. But I also got a drop in contact with the desk and it accompanied me through all the KoRo tests. For a pure natural perfume almost uncanny.

To finally come back to speech: Yulia certainly didn't have that on her screen, but I don't think it's unfunny that the perfume name starts with "So la la". No way! Class made, dark resin in abundance. I'm making a test recommendation. After five tested KoRo fragrances, four of which I would wear and occasionally think about buying, I would like to extend this to the entire brand.