Fluxit

Persephone's Return was designed by Yulia Yatsenko for her (and all) mothers, with whom she used to walk through rural flower fields. Only moderately versed in Greek mythology, the name of the same mother was new to me in this respect, because Demeter I knew so far only from the products of my organic vegetable box, uh, I mean of course from the New York perfume brand, which produces fragrances such as condensed milk, pizza or navel lint. On the other hand: For a 100% natural perfume Demeter fits quite well?

The goddess of the harvest is not yet visible in the first moments. Shortly pungent - okay, a little green floral - to even blue watery aquatic. But Poseidon also stays out of the picture, because the wet start actually reminds me more of flower water, into which the god of dessert (yes, yes) throws some Indian dessert spice. Weird, not as repulsive as it sounds, but also not my favourite direction.
It remains sweet, rich in nectar, I can smell lime; for the other flowers I might have to use Demeter again and optimistically naive mix their hyacinths, mimosa and ylang-ylang. We are still in the green area, provided with the slight sultriness of the floristry trade. After half an hour Persephone's Return reminds me of Lehmann's lime blossom, which also carries a certain greenness with it. But that's just out of mind, would be nice if somebody would test it.

In the course of the afternoon, an almost sticky hint swings behind the sweet floral essence, giving the fragrance more depth. I like him best at this stage. Nevertheless, there are too many flowers in the bottle for my case. Persephone doesn't need to come back to me like that anyway. But my name is not Demeter and I am not a mother ;)

"Pure, clean, inspiring" writes Yulia about her fragrance. "Total clearness of thought and mind."

First the nose becomes free, a fresh sharpness lets the predator already guess. Here, some scents slip into the camphorous Wick Vaporub trap, but the tiger in this forest skilfully bows a bow by placing woody notes in the background and surprisingly jumping off with an almost orange moment. Fresh green and resinous. Slightly stale in the background, without me being able to name it more precisely; plant sap, perhaps. But neither long nor disturbing, rather the remote indicated Animalik of the tiger as supplementing frame. It smells natural, and I would like to add that I would like to see this compliment, which can be interpreted in a different way for a pure natural perfume, understood as absolutely benevolent here.
Juniper Ridge, with its extreme forest scents, but also offshoots like DHS's "Seve de Pin", often present themselves with a needle-green dustiness, which lends the scents a mellow dryness and fans out into tiny, brittle particles in the nose. I can also see some of these approaches here, but the resin intercepts before it can become too one-dimensional. Nevertheless, the topic here is clearly nest or forest and not tiger.

In the course of the first hour we go deeper into the forest. Less resin, more light wood, more green, more needle dust. More Juniper Ridge. I like that. Slight residual sharpness, the awake predator is probably still here. After three to four hours it says goodbye to its cave. Now that both the resin bite and the tree shavings are fading, a warm smokiness appears, which in combination with the fading green tones is somewhat unusual for me, but welcome. In contrast to the light resin wood compound, the smoke smoulders darkly. How do you do? And luckily a few more hours.

I wouldn't beat the connection suggested by marketing to pure and clean, the scent is too rough for that. But it doesn't matter - a beautiful natural perfume!

"...the water whispers quietly." Thus Yulia Yatsenko embeds the dark green Malachite in the twilight.

Yulia, based in London, has been on the move in the natural perfume sector for around 10 years. Two PhDs (Molecular Biology and Biochemistry) have certainly laid a reasonable foundation for this. Some of the tinctures (including Sencha and black tea) she apparently produces herself over 1-1.5 years. I have often read discussions about tea in the field of natural fragrances, because its fragrance is not easy to preserve, that's why I find it particularly interesting here.
I like the small bottles (3, 12, 30, 60ml). The largest flacons with about 2.5-5€/ml range from the usual range for natural perfumes to the higher-priced range.

The liquid in the sample tube is as opaque as liquorice liqueur and drifts into similarly dark scent areas after one alcoholic second. Earthy, spicy, slightly fruity. Sticky resinous Labdanum with minimal pine appearance. Lavender reminds me in its spiciness of "French Oakmoss" by For Strange Women, perhaps also because of the oak moss it also contains, but which I cannot reliably identify.
It steams warm from the sun-heated stone, first a little moist, then drier. Tea? Possible, but not in the foreground. All in all poor in light, yes, but I don't feel this as dark, but rather as melancholy of the ending evening, if not even as a cosy ending in a secluded place. To me, however, too spicy, I want to calm down and the day with a caramel sparkle not yet.
Only over the next few hours - and Malachite Dusk keeps his head above some - does the fragrance become delicious, as a fruity resinous flake and a tasty spoonful of honey soothe the creeping night. It also goes well with the previous witch potion & cough syrup associations, both of which are easy to understand. What would I have said? Sun-poor dream drink after a sunny day.

For me, Dupetit falls into a similar category to Maienfelser Naturkosmetik: Both German family businesses, both not particularly known for their fragrances, although both have been active in this field for 25+ years. Even the style of her perfumes resembles, on average rather discreetly and yes, also a little bit eco.
Dupetit's amusing unique selling point is the hemp focus; there is not only cannabis perfume, but also hemp beer and even hemp varnish, which gives off its scent over time. Who would think of something like that?! Probably scent crazy like us.

Vanilla starts legally spicy floral, together with the name giving vanilla - interesting that not only the capsule, but also the / an orchid itself is integrated - some rose and coconut. I think, probably because of the coconut vanilla combo, of "Un Bois Vanille" - one of the first perfumes to intoxicate me - but in a more scratchy and subtle way. Also less harmonious, possibly a side effect of some natural fragrances, of which the oil-based ones in particular take longer to settle in on the skin. Vanilla will soon become friendly, soft and pleasant.
As soon as vanilla slips sweetly into fragrances, I have an automatic strawberry cream caramel candy association reflex - my personal notes are full of it, because I rarely get past perfumes with vanilla protagonists. I only write about it in statements in exceptional cases, because there can't be so many strawberry cream scents and I assume that it's more of a personal olfactory stick. Vanilla also moves in that direction, but fortunately a harsh note prevents it from slipping. Nevertheless in a gourmand area, later pastry pictures come up like in "Vaniglia Sopraffina e Rhum", which as a part-time fragrance twin offers anything but bad company, but seems too edible to me. After a few hours Vanilla makes herself comfortable to cuddle in the soft benzoe bed. Among all the vanilla perfumes I tried, it was certainly above average, but too pleasing for me.

How do you actually deal with scents that present both your favourite and hate notes?
Jasmine is such a scaredy-cat. "Indian" doesn't rhyme with "diabolical" for nothing. But oakmoss, it rhymes with... "soft and plump" or something. And the One Seekers as pure natural scents come from Australia, where, contrary to stupid European allergy bans, you are allowed to use even real oakmoss, as far as I know.

And there it is, the jasmine. In general, THE Jasmine, not particularly feminine and slightly green-nosed at the start. Warm herbfloral, muted by the background sharpness of the dry cardamom. Neither sweet nor sour and yet somehow both. Quickly a clearly metallic iron blade is found in the flower bed and is ready for action in the section. Flowers & weapons, just like in the movie. No big cinema, I would say, but optimistically friendly under reserve. Maybe it will be a crime thriller or turns out to be a RomCom after the break? At all, until the scent changes significantly after about two hours, there is still no commercial.
Someone's detonating. More drama than fiery romance.
But then the scales fall from my eyes: documentary film! "1969 - Revolution" by Sweet Anthems now smells enormously similar, let's say everything takes place a year before, but very close, VERY close. Still the smoke of the industrial revolution, the steel of the machines, the peaceful hippie flowers including slightly narcotic substances. Unbending, enlightened and promising, the uncertain future fixed with a watchful eye. And there it continues to smoke hoarse, soon without flowers, then without metal. A thin trace of dark sweetness, belated and mischievous. The canvas fades to grey, the curtain covers it when the programme is over and you realize: you can take this smoke home with you. Your personal End Credits including your favourite song. And you smile

For the number types: Head note 7.0. / base 10.0.
Makes a, uh, 9-point average. For lack of publicity. Although they should be done for that scent!