KingLui

A new iris fragrance from the creator of "III-I L'Attesa" has to be good. Can not be otherwise, right?

As always, when one has high hopes, when one imagines something completely new, never before smelled, under the combination of iris and lemon leaf, when one believes lemon leaf would produce interesting, unsweet greenness while withholding citrusiness, when one imagines it irresistible together with iris, when the common subconscious simply ignores the words "amber" and "vanilla" in the fragrance note, when one convinces oneself: "Where iris is written on it, there must be happiness in it.", one falls on the - literal - nose.

I think The Iris Way is good, nothing more, nothing less. Since my overconfidence is my fault, I'd say a pleasant gourmand scent has been created here. It smells of iris, briefly citrusy, very vanilla-sweet , something like black tea and glazed pastries.

The perfume at least leaves me and my dormant interest in perfumes with good hopes for the rest of the Discovery set.

Shock, shock, heart in my pants, oh no, oh no: I ordered the complete Zoologist Sample Set instead of single samples, because that was the only option where you could get the koala sample. And now it's not even there or what?! Oh yes, there it is. Oops. And of course there is a handwritten greeting again

I am quite sure that koala does not contain any pepper at all, but I smell it anyway in the very first moment. It's the frankincense. It makes the smell hot for my nose. The essential oils of mint and eucalyptus with the flowery background are beautiful. Small side note: Here in the pyramid there is honey and menthol, but on the inside of the sample letter it says "Menthol Honey Gumdrop".

Unfortunately, it is not uncommon for mint notes in perfumes to create a detergent association in my case. When I smell concentrated on my wrist, I recognize the individual ingredients, but the scent blows into my nose as a cloud, I think of friends who have detergent as a family scent - which is certainly simply due to the detergent.

Let's come back to incense again: It is clearly too clear for me here. Eucalyptus mint flower alone would have been nice
Now it is my bad luck that I simply do not like incense at all and only tolerate it in tiny doses. Nevertheless I would have liked to have a green-etheric one under a koala scent, which at the same time radiates the lightness of life: Hanging around and munching eucalyptus, mating maybe every 2 to 3 years, but only when the female calls*, otherwise no obligations.

What a day in the life of a real koala bear is like

*To determine the time of mating is a female thing with the koalas. At the earliest when the offspring of the previous year is independent, but often only every two to three years. (planet-wissen.de)

When I finished the tenth grade, I chose chemistry with a 4, because I had not paid attention due to puberty at some point and it quickly became impossible for me to find the connection again. Since then chemistry has been an unsolvable mystery for me and my knowledge is still limited rudimentarily to the fact that I know the difference between an atom and a molecule and have just understood what it is about electrons, what oxidation and reduction are

Now that I've gotten to know Confetto, I wish I'd been more careful at school and didn't have to think what the scent molecules are doing was witchcraft.

How can it be that Profumum Roma were the first and only Roma in the world to develop a durable anise note? And by durable I mean that it remains clearly perceptible in the hair over several days!

And how did they manage that Confetto nasenscheinlich only consists of two fragrances - almond and aniseed - and then still belongs to the most extraordinary, beautiful and original fragrances with high recognition value I know?

Why is Confetto both present and subtle? It's like Confetto isn't a perfume, it's a feeling. People around me say, "What suddenly smells so nice here?" without realizing it's a perfume. As if Confetto was always there and yet never too much.

And how is it possible that the clear colourless liquid turns pink over time? Who can explain this to me?

I don't think it's true. It's unreal.
If this is actually just a dream, please don't wake me up.

The Libertin Louison Set is now lying unopened in my closet for some time. A black sheet of DIN A4 paper is folded once in the middle and held together with a black cotton ribbon. Inside are small white bags that sort the samples according to concentration: "Extrait de Parfum", 2x "Eau de Parfum", "Eau de Cologne" and a bag of "Soliflores". I am impressed with how LL managed to tie up a very noble sample set with the simplest means.

I briefly clicked through the brand on Parfumo to find out which two fragrances I should test first: Fleur de Papier because the name makes me most curious and Sanguis Terrae because he has the highest rating. I can already tell: The former convinces me more than the latter.


In the first moment a tiny little alcohol engraver flies away, then a very fruity rose appears, which is almost chewing gum fruity. This happens in the first few seconds and then Fleur de Papier turns into a rose with a fascinating chalk note(!). While the clove creeps up from behind and after several minutes is more and more in the foreground with the rose, the chalky-creamy impression with fruit nuance and vanilla remains.

Thus the heart of the perfume remains over several hours, whereby it also shows green-flowered and slightly old-fashioned parts again and again.

I didn't dab on much and feel the Sillage therefore as small, can imagine me however that this perfume in atomized administration also a beautiful presence can have.

L'Attesa is one of those scents that won't let me go. After having owned a bottle last year, emptied half of it and then given it away, I had to think about it again and again.

The brilliant start is dominated by an unparalleled iris: dry, dull-grown, mineral with the complete absence of sweetness.

For me, that's the perfect iris note.

It's perfect.

After a few minutes a sweetness creeps up, which I attribute to the Mysore sandalwood. I can't really smell citric ingredients, champagne, tuberose or ylang-ylang. I wouldn't have typed oakmoss and leather on my own, but I can tell by looking at the notes.

The outstanding thing about L'Attesa is also that the iris note lingers all the time and dominates the fragrance until the beautiful sandalwood finish.

Why did I give away the scent then?
My husband ruined it a bit for me right at the beginning by saying to me in the morning on the first day I wore the newly acquired (and long awaited) scent: "Hm, it smells good here. So intense after hand cream." Ouch. And somehow he's right about that.

But I carried him on and loved him dearly. Until he became too sweet to me with the time and I decided after several considerations and carrying to let him pull. I very much hope that the increasing sweetness was due only to my sensation and not to the fact that the fragrance changes over time in the bottle

Anyway, today I bought it back. In the past few months, I had often thought of him. The first sprayer hit me, touched me and made me sentimental. It's like an old friend you lost sight of is back. And you only realize how painfully you missed him when you see him again and take him in your arms.

So now I'm pulling myself together again. It's a perfume, not a living thing. You can't ascribe such deep feelings to something.

The more I think about the hand cream comparison, the more it makes sense to me. L'Attesa smells like a luxurious cream. Such a one, which was produced only once, personally made for a queen. One that is stored in a heavy crucible and has a thick, pasty consistency.

This is the best iris perfume I know and I can hardly imagine that this will ever change.