MonsieurTest
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MonsieurTest
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(C)A crap! Fine tart fine bergamot rose tea fig leaf
After recently Giacomo Cravachanova announced several times in different places, he will, as soon as he has taken over the world, any TEA scents FORBIDDEN, we feel the urgent duty to praise this surprisingly successful fine tart-fruity subtle floral tea scent. Because in Cravache's abilities and relentless determination to the (fragrant) extreme should probably doubt no one who has ever read here one or the other line of his power and juice prose (currently, unfortunately, he does not poetize, but is probably recovering in Swiss sanatoriums from his verbal excesses and other debaucheries).
The apparently still quite young Swedish company produces fragrances en masse, distributes them - judging by the languages on my simple-functional, slim plastic bottle - in the direction of Eastern Europe and the Middle East - and has here at Parfumo with a rating average of 6.5 on their broad portfolio not too great standing. I've yet to get my hands on any of their products. Well, now I have! And that was also good so.
Sensity Sun Sprakle is, from the name and the standard 200ml bottle size, to be considered a body mist. Marketed as 'Spray Cologne' Sun Sparkle offers a for this genre admittedly quite powerful Rosenteenebel and all times a finely blended refreshment. I currently prefer to wear it while exercising on fresh spring days, or while walking through flowering shrubs and greening avenues and parks. And I will soon try it as a wardrobe scent. Because I find that this Oriflame is a really happy-fresh good mood scent with beautiful chords from the head to the soft baisis. And that at the ridikül small price.
As - among some other fragrance amours also - tea fan I like the green tea scents of Alissa Ashley or Yves Rocher, which both smell pleasantly unsweet aromatic and perform restrained (the critic in me shouts: weak!). This Oriflame Sensity Sun Sparkle, however diluted & packaged as BodyMist, can performatively and radiance-wise take on the two well.
In addition to the fresh bergamot, an equally discreetly bitter-green fig leaf was added here and works with its green-milky nuances delightfully with at the fine-tone concerto. The accompanying little flowers, Rosenknosp and Osmanthus, do not prove to be false friends here (quite unlike Rosenkrantz and Güldenstern in 'Hamlet'), but demurely hold back with their delicate interjections. And allow me, as a guy, to feel comfortable with this scent and not at all OsmanThussi. Perhaps clary sage is present, but maybe it's off? Who can smell everything?
Also the fruity fresh Arden GreenTeas I like and wear, in whose direction this Swedish sun bubbles clearly points. Whereby I like the well-tempered balance of bergamottenbittrer delicacy on leidlich fine tea with the Swedes actually even better than with the sometimes too sweet or slightly unrund squeaky-fruity Arden-Geschwadern.
With regard to light synthetic tones in all the aforementioned fragrances, these all cheap waters do not give each other much. Yes, just in the prelude (and then with the body base) you notice a little that we are not on the road here with Guerlain zutaten-ökonomisch. But they are nonetheless pleasant scents. And the more simply knit ingredients don't prick or scratch anywhere here (my nose).
By the way, and remaining after the wonderful bergamot rose tea top note festivals skin a while an equally harmoniously blended amber-musk rose tea accord on the skin, which continues to please me. Who likes such a thing, grab at the current ridiculous prices possibly, before the sun sprinkle dies out, or Cravache to its great goal and ALL tea fragrances will do away....
My thanks for bringing attention to this otherwise completely under-the-radar fine freshener here goes to Gold, who rightly acknowledged Oriflame's Sun Sparkle below.
What would be, what would you just without such meritorious, knowledgeable, tirelessly discovering Parfumo colleagues?
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FAST. No tragedy today either: A fine seasoning classic
ANNOUNCER:
You approach again, wavering scents,
That once early to young nose showed.
Am I trying to hold you this time?
Do I feel my heart today inclined to that madness?
You press on! well, then, you may rule,
As ye from the arm as mist around me rise;
My bosom feels youthfully shaken
From the magic breath that weathers your train.
You bring with you the images of glad days,
And some dear shadows rise;
Like an old, half-faded legend
Comes first love and friendship up with it;
The pain becomes new, it repeats the lament
Life's labyrinthine wandering course.
And he who otherwise delights in this fragrance,
If he remembers, wanders around at Parfumo, distracted.
A shiver seizes me, tear follows tear,
The stern heart, it feels mild and soft;
What I smell here comes as if from afar,
And what vanished becomes realities to me.
[Powerhouse] REACTOR:
Who wished very much to please the crowd,
Especially because it lives and lets live.
Top notes are whipped up fruity-spicy,
And everyone expects a feast.
We sit already, with high nostrils,
Serenely there and would like to be amazed.
Who knows how to reconcile the people's smell;
True, they are not used to such abundance,
But they have smelt an awful lot.
KENNER:
How speak I now of that variegated multitude,
Spicy heart notes that delight the organ?
Reveal to you the waving throng,
That softly and flatteringly draws us to the whirlpool.
Where rose and carnation pure fragrance blossoms,
Where cinnamon and cedar bless our hearts
With orris root and sandal patch nourish.
Ah! what sprang in California there,
What an olfactory brain then imagined,
Strong, much, harmonious was it and still smells successful today,
Pervaded the wild disco time violence.
Often, when it first through years penetrated,
It's a delight in remembered form.
What shines is born for the moment,
That which is real remains unvanquished to posterity.
TIME CRITICAL PERSON:
If only I should not hear of posterity.
Suppose we were to talk of new'n perfumes,
What would be left of our present juice?
Aquatics, sweet stuff, niche knick-knacks.
And bathtub stuff, dreary, gets on your nerves.
So just be smart and show yourself knowledgeable,
Let retro stuff from the Internet's bulging archives,
Guerlains, Carons, Aramis, Patous & Co,
And, mark you well! Also smell this Giorgio!
REACTOR.
In the end, however, the base remains:
Honey moss, tonka musk & benzoin going slow.
You can force the mass only by mass,
Each one finally chooses for himself.
He who brings much will bring some;
And everyone goes out satisfied:
Vanilla-amber, mildly sweet, delightful!
Such a ragout, it could succeed then.
A man who thinks to act right,
Must hold to the best tool.
And, what remains the very best,
Many a man comes to Parfumo to read.
One hurries here absentmindedly, as to the masquerade festivals,
And curiosity only inspires every step;
The ladies give themselves and their perfume to the best
And play along without fee.
Who divides the flowing always same row
That it stirs rhythmically?
Who calls the individual to the general consecration,
Where it beats in glorious chords?
Who lets the storm rage to passions?
The evening fragrance in earnest glow?
Who pours all the fair spring blossoms
On the beloved's path?
Who weaves the insignificant green leaves
To the wreath of honour merits of every kind?
Who secures Olympus? unites gods?
The poet's power, in perfume revealed.
You know, on the perfumo stage
Each one tries what he likes;
Therefore I spare you this day
Not the Giorgio, not the Goethe.
There's no lack of colourful birds here.
They stride in the wide perfume house
The whole circle of fragrances
And they walk with noses wide open
From the head through the heart to the bases.
.......
Giorgio for Men was certainly more massive, more powerful and with more tinsel in the past.
But even today it is still finely spicy, noble soapy & good. And always a nice one!
Great fragrance for little money.
You approach again, wavering scents,
That once early to young nose showed.
Am I trying to hold you this time?
Do I feel my heart today inclined to that madness?
You press on! well, then, you may rule,
As ye from the arm as mist around me rise;
My bosom feels youthfully shaken
From the magic breath that weathers your train.
You bring with you the images of glad days,
And some dear shadows rise;
Like an old, half-faded legend
Comes first love and friendship up with it;
The pain becomes new, it repeats the lament
Life's labyrinthine wandering course.
And he who otherwise delights in this fragrance,
If he remembers, wanders around at Parfumo, distracted.
A shiver seizes me, tear follows tear,
The stern heart, it feels mild and soft;
What I smell here comes as if from afar,
And what vanished becomes realities to me.
[Powerhouse] REACTOR:
Who wished very much to please the crowd,
Especially because it lives and lets live.
Top notes are whipped up fruity-spicy,
And everyone expects a feast.
We sit already, with high nostrils,
Serenely there and would like to be amazed.
Who knows how to reconcile the people's smell;
True, they are not used to such abundance,
But they have smelt an awful lot.
KENNER:
How speak I now of that variegated multitude,
Spicy heart notes that delight the organ?
Reveal to you the waving throng,
That softly and flatteringly draws us to the whirlpool.
Where rose and carnation pure fragrance blossoms,
Where cinnamon and cedar bless our hearts
With orris root and sandal patch nourish.
Ah! what sprang in California there,
What an olfactory brain then imagined,
Strong, much, harmonious was it and still smells successful today,
Pervaded the wild disco time violence.
Often, when it first through years penetrated,
It's a delight in remembered form.
What shines is born for the moment,
That which is real remains unvanquished to posterity.
TIME CRITICAL PERSON:
If only I should not hear of posterity.
Suppose we were to talk of new'n perfumes,
What would be left of our present juice?
Aquatics, sweet stuff, niche knick-knacks.
And bathtub stuff, dreary, gets on your nerves.
So just be smart and show yourself knowledgeable,
Let retro stuff from the Internet's bulging archives,
Guerlains, Carons, Aramis, Patous & Co,
And, mark you well! Also smell this Giorgio!
REACTOR.
In the end, however, the base remains:
Honey moss, tonka musk & benzoin going slow.
You can force the mass only by mass,
Each one finally chooses for himself.
He who brings much will bring some;
And everyone goes out satisfied:
Vanilla-amber, mildly sweet, delightful!
Such a ragout, it could succeed then.
A man who thinks to act right,
Must hold to the best tool.
And, what remains the very best,
Many a man comes to Parfumo to read.
One hurries here absentmindedly, as to the masquerade festivals,
And curiosity only inspires every step;
The ladies give themselves and their perfume to the best
And play along without fee.
Who divides the flowing always same row
That it stirs rhythmically?
Who calls the individual to the general consecration,
Where it beats in glorious chords?
Who lets the storm rage to passions?
The evening fragrance in earnest glow?
Who pours all the fair spring blossoms
On the beloved's path?
Who weaves the insignificant green leaves
To the wreath of honour merits of every kind?
Who secures Olympus? unites gods?
The poet's power, in perfume revealed.
You know, on the perfumo stage
Each one tries what he likes;
Therefore I spare you this day
Not the Giorgio, not the Goethe.
There's no lack of colourful birds here.
They stride in the wide perfume house
The whole circle of fragrances
And they walk with noses wide open
From the head through the heart to the bases.
.......
Giorgio for Men was certainly more massive, more powerful and with more tinsel in the past.
But even today it is still finely spicy, noble soapy & good. And always a nice one!
Great fragrance for little money.
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Green tart unisex fig: a refreshment poem
Fig tree, for how long has it been significant to me
how you almost completely overturn the blossom
and into the early determined fruit,
your pure secret.
With pale pink pepper thy bent branch
downward the sap and upward: mandarin leaps from sleep,
almost not waking, into the bliss of his soft sweet performance.
See how the god in the swan_
But we linger,
Sage boasts it to bloom, and into the muscatel interior
of our finite fruit we enter betrayed.
Few so gently rises the rush of the iris,
that it scarcely blows up, burns out in the fullness of the heart,
when the temptation to blossom, like the night air
touches their nasal hairs, and then the olfactory brain:
Musk, perhaps, and the early passing,
whose nostrils are otherwise bent by gardening death.
These tumble along: to their own sniffling
they are ahead, like the patchouli in the mild
mellow muffle of the base of this gentle Ferrari.
....
I like this rather green-herb fig leafy than sweet fruity unisex Ferrari, which comes along very mild and quiet, consequently not at all droning, as a spring and summer freshener quite well. Durability and sillage are moderate, as it should be for an elegy fragrance.
Edda has begged my avater gen Rilke; gold has spurred me to (re) poetry.
Greetings! And Rilke, in whose Sixth Duino Elegy I must have lost my way a little.
how you almost completely overturn the blossom
and into the early determined fruit,
your pure secret.
With pale pink pepper thy bent branch
downward the sap and upward: mandarin leaps from sleep,
almost not waking, into the bliss of his soft sweet performance.
See how the god in the swan_
But we linger,
Sage boasts it to bloom, and into the muscatel interior
of our finite fruit we enter betrayed.
Few so gently rises the rush of the iris,
that it scarcely blows up, burns out in the fullness of the heart,
when the temptation to blossom, like the night air
touches their nasal hairs, and then the olfactory brain:
Musk, perhaps, and the early passing,
whose nostrils are otherwise bent by gardening death.
These tumble along: to their own sniffling
they are ahead, like the patchouli in the mild
mellow muffle of the base of this gentle Ferrari.
....
I like this rather green-herb fig leafy than sweet fruity unisex Ferrari, which comes along very mild and quiet, consequently not at all droning, as a spring and summer freshener quite well. Durability and sillage are moderate, as it should be for an elegy fragrance.
Edda has begged my avater gen Rilke; gold has spurred me to (re) poetry.
Greetings! And Rilke, in whose Sixth Duino Elegy I must have lost my way a little.
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A fine citrus spice classic to the rescue. How a noble Loewe saved the Parfumo community from the cheese swamp
Special tasks, or simply a perfectly groomed everyday appearance, require special fragrances. Loewe pour homme (previously para hombre) has been a stalwart of the aromatic citrus men's genre since 1978. An outstanding fragrance! A beautiful vintage lemon head rises above the basil-lavender backbone rooted in a soft butt of amber moss.
ONLY scents like this are capable of keeping the perfumo community from falling into stammering and moaning! Because:
Oh woe! The fine Parfumo oasis threatened to topple. From the biotope of fragrant warbling colorful birds threatened to become a cesspool: a Maggi nightmare! After the Louvre was closed a long time ago, after Loewenherz spent his well-deserved retirement behind the landlord's stove, bitter losses followed recently like lashes: Voice genius Fittleworth, Queen of Soul Palonera and funk singer Flirty Flower stopped singing. The creaky retro-bass Konsalik fell silent, and now even the most recorded hero tenor, Yatagan. Alas!
A tricky Swiss shyster and strong-scented Casanova, who maintains a pigpen on the side at Parfumo, also recently lured a guard of the best remaining forces to the Swiss Alpine purgatory of boredom. Cravache probably hopes our writing heroes will 'lie down' there like medieval knights, forsaking their scent-testing adventures in favor of slacker pleasures.
He promised them a tax-exempt commentary holding company. He lured them with wellness offers: Cheese whirlpools, wallows in cowpatOud, sodomistic animalities and alpine flowerlet abuse of all kinds.... Baiting in this way, Cravache lured the heroes of my perfumo youth to Appenzell in the commentary on Montale's 'Full Incense':
The leather smoke man Chizza & Faun Floyd, our holiness, Colognepapst FvSpeesuit, furthermore the infamous killer Melissa, the tirelessly clucking chicken Pollita. Plus the fresh super-Friesian, whose services as a perfumo-muse are in hot demand everywhere. In the small print of his cloistered subordinate clauses, the bored decadent had also lured Hasi (whom he has been trying to tease into his coop forever), the radiant Gold as well as the virtuoso Flioline, plus the tower-jumping poet Violet as well as the line-jumping Button Nose into his dark realm.
The Parfumo idyll of nose and letter artists threatened to become desolate. Where was salvation to come from when all the good guys had been silenced or carried off?
As a Parfumo-Preusse it was MonsieurTest's duty, kissed by his Scent-Muse also desire, to recruit a team of remaining warriors, free the lost souls and lead them back to the promised Parfumo-Land. Fortunately, the short-sighted Cravache had overlooked the fact that, in addition to the long-singers, there was also a Statement League of Parfumopoets who, with their stilettos, poetically powerful statements, were able to form a powerful strike force.
The sad nymph Edda 32 declared herself ready for the emergency as quickly as the old-rocking cat friend Pinseltown. Killer Bee was cast because of his fearsome name and incorruptibly conservative taste; Treasure Hunter because his name says it all and doesn't promise too much. The little-known UntermWert (equally true name!) because of her magical memory skills. Which could become crucial to this mission, as it was necessary to appeal to the missing person's GOOD memories of Perfumoland in order to lure them back. The overall artist Shaking, as well as Nui with the unpronounceable name and nose sequel, proudly volunteered for the expedition. As fresh forces, the astutely curious Foxear, the avidly honey-gathering April22Bee, and the mountain-moving Guerlinchen with an irrepressible love of scent were asked to join the strike force.
The strategy was as simple as it was ingenious - to learn from Gesualdo and Bach is to learn to win! On the summits around the Appenzell cheese and tax cesspool, the master staters climb to plead, roar or yodel from above the praise of Loewe pour homme in many-voiced fugue to the dragged down. Depending on poetic inclination.
Pinseltown began the statement round dance, yodeling:
Gentle Giant of the felines,
gentler than my pet cat,
rooaart better than my jaguar:
Here comes the greenish Sun!
This was followed by the queen of diminuendo haikus, Edda32:
Moll lemon finely basil
Whispers to us in the lavender field:
Better rose than gera-nie.
Amber moost soft da
-of, -to, -her.
NuiWak... our Maori with a nose-tit booms from the snow-top opposite:
Spicy lemon, tart herbs, fruity blossoms
Inhale sandal musk cream.
In the heart of Spain, the sun always shines
On mossy vetiver!
Foxear counters fresh in a different key:
Lemon and basil pot go to the BAR
(Interjection from Edda32: what is this?)
Lavender with the rose around
Landing geraniums in the amber moss bed
To Netflix & scent study (?!)
Whereupon Guerlinchen echot joyfully full of passion:
Oh, that's how mature guys smell
Virile, ned verdruckst,
Sensual and self-confident.
Southern and soo engaging.
Delightful: Mmmh!
Schatzsucher sings with Hanseatic understatement finely nuanced:
Unexcited citrus-harsh fragrance
With feins-tem, classic touch, without frippery.
Does not roar loudly around, bes-ticht through s-tolze presence.
Killer bee takes the theme and varies it:
A dinosaur, so basically likeable.
A bit rustic, so what?
Lemon yellow he is,
rolling in the moss with his
fine flower necklace...
Loud and distinctive now hums April22Bee:
Not for monks,
does his thing, lemon-spiced,
clears then tartly unclean that it's a joy.
Released more like 25.
Shaking nails a dreamy lion picture to the summit cross and sets off:
Grandma, why do you have
Such a hairy chest?
...
Because I have such delightful
Oldschool spicy scents
Just can't resist!
UntermWert recalls:
This is how the 80ies smelled
The noblest hombres
Under Spain's Sun:
Green spicy lemony
Lavender moos it up
From the depths of time
So the cheese chains of the heroes banished by Cravache to tax loopholes (the ladies: to his pigsties) melted under the anthems of the antiphonally posted Parfumo choir.
The banished sharpened their ears & noses, so-called the chants of friends, became fresh, soft and gripped. Soon they made their way back and fell into the citrusy, spicy arms of their liberators, the Loewe-spraying staters.
How great was the joy when the other lost ones poured out of the dark crypts of their own exiles: Fittleworth (whose signature scent is Loewe pour homme - which says more than all my words here!) and Yatagan, Palonera, Flirty Flower and Konsalik, all came back and celebrated a spring festival lasting several weeks at the big lily pond, in the Birdland of Parfumoland. Night after night, they told each other about new fragrance discoveries or reminisced about the scents of their parents and grandparents.
Only Chizza got confused because of the many beers&whiskies while fabulating, because he could hardly keep apart the many stories and venues of his perfume stories.
So he was gagged & and tied to a tree. Until he finally divided good & evil correctly in the distribution of roles. (Note: MonsieurTest: written together!)
ONLY scents like this are capable of keeping the perfumo community from falling into stammering and moaning! Because:
Oh woe! The fine Parfumo oasis threatened to topple. From the biotope of fragrant warbling colorful birds threatened to become a cesspool: a Maggi nightmare! After the Louvre was closed a long time ago, after Loewenherz spent his well-deserved retirement behind the landlord's stove, bitter losses followed recently like lashes: Voice genius Fittleworth, Queen of Soul Palonera and funk singer Flirty Flower stopped singing. The creaky retro-bass Konsalik fell silent, and now even the most recorded hero tenor, Yatagan. Alas!
A tricky Swiss shyster and strong-scented Casanova, who maintains a pigpen on the side at Parfumo, also recently lured a guard of the best remaining forces to the Swiss Alpine purgatory of boredom. Cravache probably hopes our writing heroes will 'lie down' there like medieval knights, forsaking their scent-testing adventures in favor of slacker pleasures.
He promised them a tax-exempt commentary holding company. He lured them with wellness offers: Cheese whirlpools, wallows in cowpatOud, sodomistic animalities and alpine flowerlet abuse of all kinds.... Baiting in this way, Cravache lured the heroes of my perfumo youth to Appenzell in the commentary on Montale's 'Full Incense':
The leather smoke man Chizza & Faun Floyd, our holiness, Colognepapst FvSpeesuit, furthermore the infamous killer Melissa, the tirelessly clucking chicken Pollita. Plus the fresh super-Friesian, whose services as a perfumo-muse are in hot demand everywhere. In the small print of his cloistered subordinate clauses, the bored decadent had also lured Hasi (whom he has been trying to tease into his coop forever), the radiant Gold as well as the virtuoso Flioline, plus the tower-jumping poet Violet as well as the line-jumping Button Nose into his dark realm.
The Parfumo idyll of nose and letter artists threatened to become desolate. Where was salvation to come from when all the good guys had been silenced or carried off?
As a Parfumo-Preusse it was MonsieurTest's duty, kissed by his Scent-Muse also desire, to recruit a team of remaining warriors, free the lost souls and lead them back to the promised Parfumo-Land. Fortunately, the short-sighted Cravache had overlooked the fact that, in addition to the long-singers, there was also a Statement League of Parfumopoets who, with their stilettos, poetically powerful statements, were able to form a powerful strike force.
The sad nymph Edda 32 declared herself ready for the emergency as quickly as the old-rocking cat friend Pinseltown. Killer Bee was cast because of his fearsome name and incorruptibly conservative taste; Treasure Hunter because his name says it all and doesn't promise too much. The little-known UntermWert (equally true name!) because of her magical memory skills. Which could become crucial to this mission, as it was necessary to appeal to the missing person's GOOD memories of Perfumoland in order to lure them back. The overall artist Shaking, as well as Nui with the unpronounceable name and nose sequel, proudly volunteered for the expedition. As fresh forces, the astutely curious Foxear, the avidly honey-gathering April22Bee, and the mountain-moving Guerlinchen with an irrepressible love of scent were asked to join the strike force.
The strategy was as simple as it was ingenious - to learn from Gesualdo and Bach is to learn to win! On the summits around the Appenzell cheese and tax cesspool, the master staters climb to plead, roar or yodel from above the praise of Loewe pour homme in many-voiced fugue to the dragged down. Depending on poetic inclination.
Pinseltown began the statement round dance, yodeling:
Gentle Giant of the felines,
gentler than my pet cat,
rooaart better than my jaguar:
Here comes the greenish Sun!
This was followed by the queen of diminuendo haikus, Edda32:
Moll lemon finely basil
Whispers to us in the lavender field:
Better rose than gera-nie.
Amber moost soft da
-of, -to, -her.
NuiWak... our Maori with a nose-tit booms from the snow-top opposite:
Spicy lemon, tart herbs, fruity blossoms
Inhale sandal musk cream.
In the heart of Spain, the sun always shines
On mossy vetiver!
Foxear counters fresh in a different key:
Lemon and basil pot go to the BAR
(Interjection from Edda32: what is this?)
Lavender with the rose around
Landing geraniums in the amber moss bed
To Netflix & scent study (?!)
Whereupon Guerlinchen echot joyfully full of passion:
Oh, that's how mature guys smell
Virile, ned verdruckst,
Sensual and self-confident.
Southern and soo engaging.
Delightful: Mmmh!
Schatzsucher sings with Hanseatic understatement finely nuanced:
Unexcited citrus-harsh fragrance
With feins-tem, classic touch, without frippery.
Does not roar loudly around, bes-ticht through s-tolze presence.
Killer bee takes the theme and varies it:
A dinosaur, so basically likeable.
A bit rustic, so what?
Lemon yellow he is,
rolling in the moss with his
fine flower necklace...
Loud and distinctive now hums April22Bee:
Not for monks,
does his thing, lemon-spiced,
clears then tartly unclean that it's a joy.
Released more like 25.
Shaking nails a dreamy lion picture to the summit cross and sets off:
Grandma, why do you have
Such a hairy chest?
...
Because I have such delightful
Oldschool spicy scents
Just can't resist!
UntermWert recalls:
This is how the 80ies smelled
The noblest hombres
Under Spain's Sun:
Green spicy lemony
Lavender moos it up
From the depths of time
So the cheese chains of the heroes banished by Cravache to tax loopholes (the ladies: to his pigsties) melted under the anthems of the antiphonally posted Parfumo choir.
The banished sharpened their ears & noses, so-called the chants of friends, became fresh, soft and gripped. Soon they made their way back and fell into the citrusy, spicy arms of their liberators, the Loewe-spraying staters.
How great was the joy when the other lost ones poured out of the dark crypts of their own exiles: Fittleworth (whose signature scent is Loewe pour homme - which says more than all my words here!) and Yatagan, Palonera, Flirty Flower and Konsalik, all came back and celebrated a spring festival lasting several weeks at the big lily pond, in the Birdland of Parfumoland. Night after night, they told each other about new fragrance discoveries or reminisced about the scents of their parents and grandparents.
Only Chizza got confused because of the many beers&whiskies while fabulating, because he could hardly keep apart the many stories and venues of his perfume stories.
So he was gagged & and tied to a tree. Until he finally divided good & evil correctly in the distribution of roles. (Note: MonsieurTest: written together!)
39 Comments
Translated
Show original
E-bike with wooden frame or Bobby-Car? Vetiver scents with false names
No, The Essence of Vetiver does NOT offer this fragrance. Instead, a gentle vetiver framed by light citrus, cardamom and nutwood that might appeal to many a greengrass-phobe or vetiver novice. For a scent worthy of the name vetiver essence, please turn to the monks of the Monastère of Ganagobie; their monothematic vetyver scent offers a wondrously enjoyable parcours (not a cloister!) through the many vetiver aspects from ethereal freshness to rooty-herbaceous to earthy-chocolatey notes.
That one is seduced as a perfume lover by the reading of Parfumo articles to fragrances whose brand or licensor are far from one ideologically as well as lifestyle-wise, belongs to the (temporarily) irritating aspects of the Parfumo existence. From the somehow obvious designers (Armani, Boss, Cerruti, etc.) one ends up - even though one prefers to ride bicycles and finds car fetishists stupid - unexpectedly with Bentley, Jaguar and Ferrari. Or even - as a more worldly-minded hedonist - with southern French monks. And rubs his eyes, which brands and images are now suddenly emblazoned on the (my?! Is that still me? If so, how many?) shelf.
What the heck: Always follow your nose, always follow the most plausible and seductive Parfumo comments, that's the tried and tested pilgrim rule to the fragrance paradise.
Vetiver is one of those difficult notes that put off many perfume lovers. At Parfumo.de romp many avowed Vetiverskeptiker and Grüngrasangsthasen. But also some conversion reports of successfully mastered confrontation therapies can be read here. Also the undersigned rather belongs to the converts, has not eaten the green grass (more exactly: its roots) to the mother's milk.
I still remember the medium-strong shock when I first had the tart Guerlain Vetiver from 1959 under my nose. It truly took a few approaches to appreciate this classic from my favorite house. But I still wear this heavy, earthy, old-school fellow less often than its more pleasing, tonka-cedar, tobacco-free, thus more restrained and far less extreme son. Which was baptized the name Guerlain Vetiver Extrême; fragrance names are often insane!
This Ferrari fragrance is not crazy, but hardly anyone actually has to fear him. This vetiver does not come loudly booming around the corner (like the innocently named Encre Noir by Lalique), it creeps up rather gently whirring like an e-bike. A little citrusy freshness with grapefruit and petigrain (but none of the ingeniously ellenic pungency of a Terre de Hermes) in the head; a few gentle spices with cardamom, coffee and iris dusts around the vetiver heart - and finally a little wood down below and out the back. Where, in my opinion, the gentle nut wood note actually provides a refined, elegant counter-bearing to the green-tart vetiver.
Conclusion: the vetiver of the monks of the Monastère de Ganagobie is the real, nature-based hiking or biking fragrance: the vetyver essence! Guerlain's old vetiver is a rather edgy and bulky, but tart and elegant classic of the fragrance: a heavily motorized vintage car with worn leather seats, in which once smoked.
Ferrari (closer: the license taking Perfume Holding) offers a not badly made, today's vetiver pleasure, which is practical and agile. Whereby the materials here already seem a little artificial - and have been joined to a possibly somewhat shakily screwed aroma chord: as it were an e-folding bike with a lousy battery. It fits in the suburban train, the train and in the trunk. You can use it in the city, but it also works in nature. Rather sporty than elegant it looks; fits consequently better with jeans & T-shirt than with suit and cufflinks.
The friendly little water is more suitable for transitional seasons than for extreme temperatures. Durability and sillage are moderate and thus definitely contradict the Beast Mode, that drone up, which one would expect from Ferrari yet brand-appropriate.
Still there is this humane, a little lame fragrance, more bobby car than bolide (that's a compliment, people!), online at moderate prices.
EPILOGUE and small PROPOSAL for adjustments to juices, names and brands:
As a language and nose worker, one is, well, always trying to bring the words and the things (Les mots et les choses - to flail a little with Foucault) in line. Order should be, we think, quite unneurotically!
So we ask Guerlain to exchange the names on their Vetiver and Vetiver Extrême bottlings. Furthermore, the following ring exchange is requested: Lalique passes on the sharp-loud content of its art vetiver drone 'Encre Noir' to the Ferrari licensee. Under this brand you can really roar! Ferraris/Perfume Holdings already beautiful, however nevertheless average middle class brew is to be driven out now by Ford as Grey Vetiver (so it fits!)
While the vacated Vetiver Essence name now rightfully passes to the monks of Ganagobie Monastery, who offer just that (at Christian prices!). Their elegantly ypsilonated Vetyver name may now go to Lalique for my sake - although I am now in danger of losing track of what Lalique is supposed to put in these great flacons in the future, whose previous contents are now being marketed as Ferrari. Please send any relevant information to Monsieur Teste, c/o Paul Valéry, Cimetière Marin, Sète, France - or to Lalique.
That one is seduced as a perfume lover by the reading of Parfumo articles to fragrances whose brand or licensor are far from one ideologically as well as lifestyle-wise, belongs to the (temporarily) irritating aspects of the Parfumo existence. From the somehow obvious designers (Armani, Boss, Cerruti, etc.) one ends up - even though one prefers to ride bicycles and finds car fetishists stupid - unexpectedly with Bentley, Jaguar and Ferrari. Or even - as a more worldly-minded hedonist - with southern French monks. And rubs his eyes, which brands and images are now suddenly emblazoned on the (my?! Is that still me? If so, how many?) shelf.
What the heck: Always follow your nose, always follow the most plausible and seductive Parfumo comments, that's the tried and tested pilgrim rule to the fragrance paradise.
Vetiver is one of those difficult notes that put off many perfume lovers. At Parfumo.de romp many avowed Vetiverskeptiker and Grüngrasangsthasen. But also some conversion reports of successfully mastered confrontation therapies can be read here. Also the undersigned rather belongs to the converts, has not eaten the green grass (more exactly: its roots) to the mother's milk.
I still remember the medium-strong shock when I first had the tart Guerlain Vetiver from 1959 under my nose. It truly took a few approaches to appreciate this classic from my favorite house. But I still wear this heavy, earthy, old-school fellow less often than its more pleasing, tonka-cedar, tobacco-free, thus more restrained and far less extreme son. Which was baptized the name Guerlain Vetiver Extrême; fragrance names are often insane!
This Ferrari fragrance is not crazy, but hardly anyone actually has to fear him. This vetiver does not come loudly booming around the corner (like the innocently named Encre Noir by Lalique), it creeps up rather gently whirring like an e-bike. A little citrusy freshness with grapefruit and petigrain (but none of the ingeniously ellenic pungency of a Terre de Hermes) in the head; a few gentle spices with cardamom, coffee and iris dusts around the vetiver heart - and finally a little wood down below and out the back. Where, in my opinion, the gentle nut wood note actually provides a refined, elegant counter-bearing to the green-tart vetiver.
Conclusion: the vetiver of the monks of the Monastère de Ganagobie is the real, nature-based hiking or biking fragrance: the vetyver essence! Guerlain's old vetiver is a rather edgy and bulky, but tart and elegant classic of the fragrance: a heavily motorized vintage car with worn leather seats, in which once smoked.
Ferrari (closer: the license taking Perfume Holding) offers a not badly made, today's vetiver pleasure, which is practical and agile. Whereby the materials here already seem a little artificial - and have been joined to a possibly somewhat shakily screwed aroma chord: as it were an e-folding bike with a lousy battery. It fits in the suburban train, the train and in the trunk. You can use it in the city, but it also works in nature. Rather sporty than elegant it looks; fits consequently better with jeans & T-shirt than with suit and cufflinks.
The friendly little water is more suitable for transitional seasons than for extreme temperatures. Durability and sillage are moderate and thus definitely contradict the Beast Mode, that drone up, which one would expect from Ferrari yet brand-appropriate.
Still there is this humane, a little lame fragrance, more bobby car than bolide (that's a compliment, people!), online at moderate prices.
EPILOGUE and small PROPOSAL for adjustments to juices, names and brands:
As a language and nose worker, one is, well, always trying to bring the words and the things (Les mots et les choses - to flail a little with Foucault) in line. Order should be, we think, quite unneurotically!
So we ask Guerlain to exchange the names on their Vetiver and Vetiver Extrême bottlings. Furthermore, the following ring exchange is requested: Lalique passes on the sharp-loud content of its art vetiver drone 'Encre Noir' to the Ferrari licensee. Under this brand you can really roar! Ferraris/Perfume Holdings already beautiful, however nevertheless average middle class brew is to be driven out now by Ford as Grey Vetiver (so it fits!)
While the vacated Vetiver Essence name now rightfully passes to the monks of Ganagobie Monastery, who offer just that (at Christian prices!). Their elegantly ypsilonated Vetyver name may now go to Lalique for my sake - although I am now in danger of losing track of what Lalique is supposed to put in these great flacons in the future, whose previous contents are now being marketed as Ferrari. Please send any relevant information to Monsieur Teste, c/o Paul Valéry, Cimetière Marin, Sète, France - or to Lalique.
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