Medusa00

This fragrance literally caught me cold, in the truest sense of the word. Meant positively!
At first I thought: "Huuiiiiii, snow falling on cedars."
I love it when it's really cold and snowy in winter. But when was the last time we had that from December to the end of February? Sniff. I would love to be the Snow Queen. But not the Elsa from Disney, fooling around with snowman Olaf. Things were still pretty peaceful then. Of course, Disney can't present children with the "real" Snow Queen. The one from Hans Christian Andersen's fairy tale. This story is quite brutal and there is even murder. Psychologists today would perhaps say it's a psychological thriller for children. Kay and Gerda, the main characters, had to put up with quite a lot. There may be a toned-down version of the fairy tale today, but read the original and you'll know what I mean.
The Snow Queen, who held Kay captive in her ice palace, was beautiful and traveled through cold climes in her glittering sleigh. She was not a good one, despite all her beauty. Yuki is a good one, precisely because of his beauty.
The onset of winter with snow and hoarfrost on the already sprouting grass. The blades rattle as the wind sweeps over them. Streams and brooks are freed from the ice by spring's bright, invigorating gaze. Hopeful happiness greets the valley. The old winter in its weakness retreats to distant mountains. From there it sends - fleeing only - impotent showers of grainy ice over the green meadows. (Goethe).
May shoots on cedars and cypresses carefully poke their noses into the still frosty morning. The Snow Queen sends the ice saints and it is already May. A breath of jasmine winks pertly.
But the most beautiful thing is the lavender! Not the herbaceous lavender whip like Jicky's (although I like that too), but young lavender that has just blossomed. Finely balanced, but still very present.
Powdery, green amber mossiness nestles in. No, not a suffocating powder. No need to hide any pickiness under a layer here.
Yuki also has an impressive but not overpowering sillage. Even after more than 24 hours, there is still a hint of cool beauty on the skin.
Thank you Polly!

Oh, I was so curious about this fragrance. I am such a gourmand. Inside I was already checking my budget to see how and when I could afford the fragrance. Just because of the iris. I like iris and also iris powder, i.e. an iris that powders. But, woman be smart and get a bottle first, which a dear perfumer then gave me.
Juhu Millésime starts off with a rather puffy iris. That's what these plants are all about. Irises also belong to the iris family, although there are many other varieties. None of them are actually very sweet. Mrs. Iris throws herself into the arms of Mr. Vanilla Bean shortly after she appears. Bourbon scraped out and preserved in sugar. Bergamot and rose are somehow underexposed and do not prevent this saccharification from dissipating. A feast for all sweet tooths and gourmand fans. I think of the Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy from Tchaikovsky's "The Nutcracker". My mother dragged me to this ballet as a child. The girl Klara was given a nutcracker by her uncle. I was terrified when the Nutcracker and all the other toys and toy soldiers came to life. There was a battle between the Nutcracker, the toy soldiers and the army of mice. At some point, Klara and the Nutcracker Prince end up in the realm of the Sugar Plum Fairy at the jam castle. I'm sure you all know the melody of the Sugar Plum Fairy's dance. It's a pity that no music can be recorded here. Nevertheless, I still don't like this ballet and Tchaikovsky isn't exactly my favorite composer either
And I feel the same way the more the fragrance develops. Like the sugar fairy. Well, the dancing sugar fairy has rolled her tutu in vanilla and there is probably no perfume from Guerlain that doesn't contain vanilla. It has to go in, whether the scent likes it or not.
Oh and I don't like nutcrackers either. There are people who collect these beasts. If they are already tearing open their mouths.... Nah, I'd rather collect perfume, even if this little treasure won't make it into my collection.

Cabotine came onto the market when many users here weren't even born yet. 34 years ago! I'm delighted that it's still around and has hardly been changed. Reformulation and all. You know what I mean. I love such green things, especially when spring is approaching. Then my Orientals go on a hike. They go to the back of the shelf. But it's still February, so they're waiting in the wings for now. From March onwards, things will get serious and the chypres will also make a move, namely to the front. Movement has never done any fragrance any harm.
Oh well, what's 34 years? Time marches on and at some point you realize that it is marching over your face. You can also recognize the beginning of the aging process when you still have the imprints of the pillow on your cheeks at noon. Even a cucumber mask won't help. I wouldn't recommend Botox, because then you might not be able to close your mouth again.
So, now to Cabotine. Fancy a bit of fantasy? Fantasy has never done anyone any harm.
At the edge of a forest clearing, the forest spirits Husch and Wusch are sitting on a fallen tree. They observe the surroundings and everything that creeps, flies, blooms, smells, rattles and rattles.
Husch : " Look over there by the stream! There she is, the green water nymph Splash. I'm thrilled!"
Wusch: "Yes, it smells all the way over here again, green, herbaceous, berry. I would really like to ghost around there."
The elf Flora flutters over the two of them and over the forest meadow at Mach 3 (approx. 3700 kmh), waving her magic wand. She mumbles to herself, drunk on dew, and gives the two tots on the tree trunk a grim look and calls out: "What are you doing here at this time of night? Isn't it ghost time at night?" It goes plop, spring flowers bloom, plop, summer flowers, plop exotic flowers.
Flora dusts everything with iris powder. Unsweet and jagged. The lawn glistens emerald green.
Wusch (dazed): "I think I've swallowed spiritual drinks. This orgy of flowers. I'm getting all dizzy."
Husch rolls his eyes as if he's been smoking something and musk animals and vanilla balls fly past in his mind's eye.
They are abruptly torn from their dreams. The Grinch is crouching on a dilapidated high seat and throwing cedar needles and sandalwood shavings. He shrieks: "This is not Tendre Poison!"
The two ghosts look completely dumbfounded and then shout in unison :" We know that, but it's the older sister. She's a bit more tomboyish and not so tendre. You green arm candy up there, go annoy Santa Claus or we'll blow vetiver up your butt until green angels fly out of your ass!"
Want to know where this clearing is? Then take a sniff of Cabotine!

Dear Francois,

today you receive a love letter from Germany. From the East and from an area where most French people have not yet been.
Don't worry, my letter is purely platonic and I have no intention of throwing myself at you or any other part of your body. It also took me quite a while to figure out that you are the nose behind Hypnotik Poison. At first I was skeptical, because there are quite a few flankers of the 1985 Urpoison by my colleagues Jean Guichard and Edouard Fléchier. I'm not that much of a flanker. But here, oh yes, a discovery and what's the saying? Better late than never. I could easily throw myself into a purple negligee. But who would see that? So here I sit in hand-knitted socks and an alpaca wool sweater.
Liquorice is supposed to be in here? I thought the same thing for a while: No!
Floral absolutes, and of the kind I like. Orange blossom and jasmine went into the still. Somewhere I also read something about May bells and yes, with a lot of imagination I can also think them in. And then comes the licorice note. Well, liquorice is made from a root extract of liquorice. And it not only smells sweet, but also woody.
I liked liquorice even as a child. But that was almost 60 years ago. You may know my grandma (1914-2007). She hated liquorice and convinced me that it was made from bug blood and would attract mosquitoes. You can shape a child that way, but it didn't work for me. Mosquitoes? I wouldn't wear this full-bodied oriental in summer. Unless we get -5° C in July.
Besides, a mosquito is only human and in summer I usually wear chypres. The mosquitoes freeze to death before they bite.
You and I owe the fact that you are receiving this love letter to a dear perfume friend who discovered this fragrance with her nose.
I had actually resolved not to buy any more fragrances. But what are resolutions for? To overturn them. Dear Francois, this Poison ends up on my wish list and I give it 10 points each as an all-round score. How's the weather in France?
With best regards
Your M.

How many of you remember the 1960s series of the same name? It starred Larry Hagman and Barbara Eden. Sometimes the series is still repeated on television today.
After a failed landing, astronaut Tony Nelson is sent to a deserted island in the Pacific, where he finds a strange bottle. This bottle has been inhabited for 2000 years by an oriental female djinni called Jeanni, who possesses magical powers. Jeannie takes the form of a beautiful blonde woman and must obey whoever opens the bottle.
A Jeanni conjured up this scent for me in cold, snowy Germany. Oh, I wish I was a Jeanni too and could do magic. Cross my arms, nod my head and beautiful things happen. But like Jeanni, I would perhaps also do some nonsense, e.g. conjure up warts on stupid people's noses, nail teeth, donkey ears and other attractive embellishments.
Sahar is an Oriental and a real one at that. I mean now that it comes from the Orient. Many other fragrances from the Occident also call themselves Orientals, such as Poison, Shalimar, Casmir etc.. But Sahar comes from Bahrain and you can't get more oriental than that. At least not on the globe.
Sahar starts very floral. But Jeanni doesn't tell me which flowers are at work here. I'm guessing ylang ylang, frangipani and perhaps roses. Surprisingly not very sweet as is usual with other Orientals. Fresh lychee is clearly discernible. After quite a while, a smoky note fills the air. No, it's not incense, although that also comes from the Orient. Here, Berber nomads are sitting with their camels in front of a caravanserai and have built a fire. The wood is still damp and they have poured oil on the fire to make it burn better. No, camel dung is not burned down.
After a while, the smoke dissipates and what remains is a floral, powdery coziness.
The unusual bottle is still sitting on my coffee table. My other fragrances will make eyes when I put it on the perfume shelf later. Almost all of them are pretty straightforward. They haven't seen anything like it either.
Thank you dear Jeanni, I'll find you a magic lamp, then you can move in with me.