FvSpee

Not sure I am, whether this fragrance would have inspired me under normal circumstances to a review. However, after I have so far four of four products of this brand verrissen, it seemed to me not fair play to pass over this yet quite successful in silence.

After one of the Vorstater in the fragrance has made out an incontinent fir, I can, however, no longer try to put in terms of original images and word creations one on it and remain factual.

Monochrome is the first fragrance in the series with an appropriate name. Indeed, the fragrance seems monochromatic, in a certain way monotonous in the better sense of the word. It consists of dark, muted tones and alternates between anthracite, sepia and dark olive.

The fragrance does not show any distinct development. He strays a bit to the right and to the left, also makes sometimes males or a jump, but all without a systematic march. I therefore describe it below as if it were linear, even if, strictly speaking, it is not. He is of medium durability and projects decidedly restrained.

The backbone of Monochrome, if you grant it one, is pencil cedar, and that includes an anthracite lead from wherever. Who likes this characteristic note (I do) is, if he gets the fragrance as a gift, already not badly served (a purchase is recommended only if you have too much money).

This gray-brown marker (fragrance marker, not highlighter, these luminous pens smell different) is a dark green forest-fresh and a herbdunkel spice-brown fragrance sound carpet, or maybe just a few carpet tiles of each variety, put to the side. The greenery is probably supposed to be expressed by fir, vetiver, rosemary and galbanum, although I would have tended not to think of the last two, anyway. As for the spices, I would have guessed the K groups (caraway, coriander, cardamom). Clove I find less plausible, in any case lacks the distinctive clove characteristic.

Leather is completely missing in my opinion. So far so neat. Unfortunately, one has probably believed here not to renounce the generous use of pleasing aroma chemistry to make the fragrance connectable to the olfactory habits of fragrance novices who are happy to recognize their shower gel or detergent. Therefore, it seems to me, the pencil forest spice scent, which in itself had the potential for primal gruffness as well as subtle finesse, presents itself soft-wadded to a certain extent in an elusive, enigmatic sweet freshness and fruity (! - from wherever) creaminess that robs the monochrome image of all hard, exciting contrasts and softens it to the border of kitsch.

Not a great, but also not a failed fragrance; coherently composed and for friends of the woody-spicy direction as a smooth, inoffensive entry fragrance well wearable.

I have a great weakness for cucumber lemonade. Just today, during the weekend summer retreat with Frau von Spee in what is now Polish Lower Silesia, I drank an excellent homemade one, with bits of real cucumber, at the (highly recommended) Zielony Piec (Green Oven) Inn in Lesna (just near Czocha Castle). The top note of this fragrance offers a similarly original sensory experience: the unusual combination of lemony-sour, lime-sweet and vegetable-green (just cucumber) notes.

However, already in this interesting entrance phase, the disaster is looming. This cucumber lemonade is from the beginning a touch too sweet, and that is the harbinger of a juvenile stickiness progressive in the further course. In addition, even at this early stage an aromachemical fog of horror penetrates through the gap between floor and door, viscous clouds of a diffuse shower-dasoid and axeal ambroxan, which will soon mercilessly suffocate any life creamy-"fresh". If still once in a while an original fragrance note like that of fennel seeds, the head, it is ironed down in no time.

In this main phase, Celluloid Heroes seems to me like an awkwardly executed paraphrase or parody of creamy blue men's fragrances of the type Bleu de Chanel or Sauvage by Dior (a direction that does not appeal to me anyway). Overall: No organic progression, but partly good (but only sketchily executed), partly boring (and poorly implemented in terms of craftsmanship) fragrance ideas pasted together desolately.

It's only 3 kilometers from Lesna to the Czech border (the nearest major town there is Friedland, Wallenstein's retirement home), and that makes me think of perhaps the least-known work by the great, clear-eyed, humanist Czech novelist of the interwar period Karel Capek: Life and Work of Foltyn the Composer. It's about a composer who is considered mediocre at best, but who occasionally has brilliant outbursts. In the course of the novel, it emerges that he is in himself a flawless nonentity; his supposedly better or even good works (or parts of them, such as movements of a concerto or a symphony) had all been stolen, especially by students dependent on him.

The naming is again nonsensical and 100% reality-free. What "screen hero" is supposed to go with this fragrance? Clark Gable? Humphrey Bogart? Arnold Schwarzenegger? Woody Allen? E.T.?

Even after 4 of 6 tested private chambers, I still could not find an independent, original fragrance, a successful perfume and still no organic, plausible fragrance development. Meanwhile, the brand annoys me sustainably.

The brand "Privatgemächer" and her house perfumer Tanja D. continue to surprise me. After a beautiful top note, which slides into a dull base (Kham-Sin) and a horrible start, which saves itself in a dull base (Concorde) comes next a downright loamy linear Kotzbrocken.

The fragrance exhibits a remarkable-brachial performance. He projects unfortunately as penentrant as he persists. Even after 12 hours, it still sticks to the skin like the proverbial (and stick rhyming) Pattex, though the only reason I haven't scrubbed it off su long is that 7 out of 12 hours have been spent sleeping.

In the first 8 hours I can't detect any significant change in the scent. According to Mrs von Spee, it smells like an insecticide from the communist era of Romania. I rather associate a mixture of impregnation spray and the smell of a tin of cultivated mushrooms (III. choice) after opening, which already inflates slightly due to overlaying. After about 9 hours, the whole thing then goes into a herb-strenge and for me not pleasing, but no longer repellent base.

I would not say more about it.

Also the other three fragrances of the brand I will still test, reviews I can promise but no more.

10 points are given for the name, which describes with amazing precision and honesty what the closer examination of this fragrance is.

P.S.: To the person whose click led to this fragrance being listed here as "similar" to Sensual Blend by Urban Scents, a favorite fragrance and brand of mine, I hereby challenge you to a duel at dawn.

Bien-Etre Eau de Cologne Naturelle 70* has as ingredients here at Parfumo almost the same five-note note as the classic 4711, except that - perhaps the most common note shift in traditional colognes - neroli has been substituted by the more pleasing, cheerful petitgrain. In another fragrance note I found on Bien-Etre Naturelle 70, lavender is missing and musk is still indicated, which seems plausible.

Since everyone knows what 4711 Echt Kölnisch Wasser smells like, let's use it as a reference here: Bien Etre is similar, quite clearly- but also a good bit independent: It is much less abrupt and metallic; milder, gentler, definitely sweeter, and not only because of the certainly by Fabrstoffe caused green coloration of the liquid also a little greener; I mean to perceive a hint of eucalyptus, if that is not a deception.

Unlike the traditional 4711 and many other similar products of its kind, I would not recommend this little water to be dumped on your face as an olfactory double espresso after three hours of sleep with bad dreams, nor as a freshness shot in extreme heat. Bien-Etre is, in fact, slightly softer and thermally warmer than most "white" and "yellow" colognes.

This would say everything about the fragrance impression, but not about the (in France iconic) product. The book "Cologne" edited by Jean-Claude Ellena (I reviewed it on the blog) dedicates a separate chapter to this cologne. It was published in 1962 - the company was set up by a resourceful pharmacist - and was so successful off the bat that it became France's best-selling perfume, with 2.5 million bottles a year (and litre and half-litre bottles to pour it in!).

Elsewhere I have often written that Colognes used to be used not only as a perfume, but also as a hygiene product, namely when there was no running water to hand. For example, on long train journeys in sleeping cars, for washing in the morning, or during breaks on the motorway in summer, before air conditioning became common in cars. Or even when there was no running water in the homes, to rub the children down with cloths soaked in cologne. And that was still quite largely the case in France in the 60s.

Thus, and here I quote again from the book, Bien-Etre was and is a product eminently linked to the idea of French family life; it is even described as an "icon of French pop culture". The question of whether to use Bien-Etre or the rival brand Mont St Michel for the family toilet was equivalent to asking whether you went on a trip with your parents in a Peugeot or a Renault.

Whether the formula was changed, and whether the company is still the old or only the brand was revived, I can not say, in any case, the Naturelle 70 * (the formerly existing sister product 85 *, with a correspondingly higher alcohol content, has disappeared) is still available in many Internet shops, along with all sorts of probably newer flankers, if the word fits with such a "non-perfume".

Whereby... "non-perfume"... One might get the impression that such waters were also used to introduce the little ones to the world of colognes.... or maybe even perfumes altogether!

In the several times quoted Cologne book also a historical advertising poster is shown, similar to the one shown here on Parfumo, but according to the style maybe stuck 5 years later, end of the 60-ies, beginning of the 70-ies perhaps. On it you can see a young French mother, very moderately sexy with a towel tied around her chest, already with short hair in the style of the time, looking modern, (but certainly voting for Georges Pompidou and not the dubious socialists), as she pours Bien-Etre from the liter bottle into the hands of her little blond son, maybe 6 years old. The whoops, and underneath it says:

The freshness moment of the morning toilet - That's Bien-Etre!

So are we, like the big boys!

We like the fresh moment of the morning toilet! Because it's Bien-Etre [or: Because it's well-being]! And that a good rub with Bien-Entre after the morning wash (and also during the day!) gives a pleasant and wonderful feeling of freshness, mummy doesn't have to tell us again.

And don't look for the reason why the Cologne Bien-Etre appeals to the whole family: it is the freshest and most natural cologne ever. Your sense of well-being is priceless. Especially when it costs only a few pennies a day.

(First visit to the Colognist Cafe)

With the fragrance I tested yesterday, 'Kham-Sin' from the same series, it turned out to be a major annoyance that the progression ended in a cheap, generic, sweet and spicy, mass-produced uniform base.

This fragrance here features the exact same base (just a little louder and more aggressive), except that you happily reach that base like a drowning man reaches the saving shore. Because the real bad thing here is the bizarre opening, which causes a strangulating feeling in the heart area and pressure on the stomach.

The fragrance notes from the pyramid are to be translated as follows:

'Vetiver', 'Patchouli' = In the investigation of illegal burial of toxic waste and rotting household waste in the gravel pit, a sample of excavated earth with grass hubs was taken for the laboratory

'Whisky' = warm Hungarian Zwack Unicum herbal liquor

'Oud, cedarwood, sandalwood, guaiac wood' = truss with dry rot

'Juniper', 'Saffron', 'Pink and Black Pepper', 'Tobacco' = Luca-Ben stirred all the spices from the kitchen shelf as well as the contents of the ashtray into a paste with gin.

With this fragrance really bursts one the hat string and goes one the collar high. He finds buyers in my opinion only because he costs 190 euros ("must be good"). Would you offer him for 1.90 at Aldi, everyone would say: "uäää, smells as high quality as its price" and rather take a watermelon or a few beers for the money.

If the naming 'Concorde' refers to the French word for harmony, it should be taken as a joke. If the plane of the same name is meant, then hopefully from the point of view that this has since been discontinued due to an unacceptable price-performance ratio.

P.S.: You wanted slurs? You'll get reviews!