MossGreen

Most "sunscreen" fragrances that I was already allowed to test, were stuffed with frangipani-Neroli-Kokos-Zitrone-Vanille-Hawaii-Karibik-Papaia-Mus, which is actually always exhausting for me and reminds of overpriced fruit juice-alcohol mixtures, which are sold to one here in the bars overpriced as cocktails. With vacation has that for me wegnig to do.

With Knot I have found a fragrance that immediately takes me back to the holidays of my childhood. I can't remember what exactly it was that my mother used to smear my sisters and me with from top to bottom, under great protest, but when I would fall asleep at night sand- and salt-encrusted, instant iced tea orange in my belly, with feral, knotted and sun-bleached hair, pine resin on my knees and elbows, it smelled just like that around me.

Orange blossom is very dominant, but it's kept in check by the citrus, so it's more transparent and fresh, as in a cologne, rather than sultry heavy on the punch. Rose casts delicate floral veils on the heads of the main players and then goes to snuggle up with lavender in the dry-down to gently end the sparkling day. Thankfully, the scent doesn't come across as tart or bitter to me at all, more creamy, juicy, and slightly floral fresh.
Where I get the pine association from, I can only guess, as there are no woody notes listed in the pyramid. It could be the lavender in combination with tonka, contributing to a somewhat dry base.

Note: My comments are usually quite factual, objective, and even informative at best. The following: rather not.
This comment comes from the naive and naive Jung-Parfumo time, in which fragrances for testing still landed everywhere. It was never posted, as I judged it to be a rip-off. I dug it out again, and decided to post it, as this scent came across me in the playground today, when it was 20 degrees and glorious spring, and ruined my entire day from the start. Therefore, now the decision to leave a small warning there.

"One spray of this scent leaves the freshly purchased bottling. A spray in the crook of the neck, unfortunately on the collar of the sweater, which is followed by a deep, curious breath. But it was to be lost on me. Sticky, dense, suffocating and overwhelming. As if someone had grabbed me from behind and pushed my whole head into a giant pot of "almond tonka cream."
The sticky, sugary mass fills my airways, my lungs, presses my diaphragm against my ribs and screams: Today I take no prisoners!
Taken completely by surprise, I rush out onto the patio and discard my sweater. standing in my backyard in 2°C and swirling snow rain, clad in nothing but a tank top, trying to catch my breath.
The birds are wondering. Fluffed up and grumpy, they sit in the pine tree waiting for better weather. Instead, one of those strange hairless mammals disturbs their peace and yips as it throws clothes."

Retrospectively, I'm sure the birds almost fell out of the tree too, but my memory is veiled and lost in the mist. I have had to dispose of the pully, as I have never been able to get the scent out of the fabric.
I can only suggest to everyone, this fragrance, should one endure it for reasons incomprehensible to me and also still enjoy, sparingly dosed and in no other season than the deepest, darkest winter to execute.
The wave of horror caught me off guard today and caught me cold. I mean, who does that? In the springtime? On a playground! There are young, innocent kids and mostly moms completely hosed from home-schooling/office/workplace whatsoever. And ripping your clothes off doesn't help, unfortunately, when someone else is wearing the scent.

Vanilla Planifolia, lat. for spice vanilla, an orchid plant. So not vanilla + orchid, or vanilla + spice, no, vanilla = spice vanilla = orchid, just to clean things up a bit.
The hobby of scent-testing increasingly entails having to slowly but surely become a botany nerd as well, after all, you want to know what weed you're smelling like right now. So today (like yesterday) I'm scenting for an orchid plant.
And what can I say, it's wonderful. The scent starts very briskly and directly with a concentrated load of green, so green that it drips in front of my inner eye. Not lawn mower greenery, it reminds me more of freshly peeled or chopped wood from willow branches that have just sprouted. Full of sap, full of readiness to put all available energy into the young buds and fresh shoots of spring (if you haven't chopped us up first, of course) The whole thing almost seems a bit milky and would quickly turn bitter if it weren't for the vanilla.
I perceive it actually very cool, clear, dry and clean, but also soft and delicate. But I just think that's more the overall impression of the scent, created by the combination of the milky bitter greenwood with the soft, slightly dusty vanilla.
Spiciness as such I do not perceive (fortunately), but I think there is definitely a component that prevents the fragrance from becoming too cool, even sterile. That could possibly be dill, maybe even a touch of cinnamon. But definitely not single out to smell.

Clear, delicate, soft and also quite linear shows this experience of wearing and for me the fragrance has everything that makes a skillful composition. With nothing overloaded, vanilla as an unkitschy carrier, slow unfolding without episodes of one-sidedness.

Beautiful for the spring

The title may sound a bit flat, but alas, that was exactly the image that manifested more and more in my mind's eye as I walked this scent on a cool early spring day. "Velvet jelly", "Noble brocade dress" "Warm perfection" were expressions that accompanied me, rudimentary snippets of memory of the comments I had previously read, I suspected.

I let the vibe work, "yeah, classy and dark velvety, wow...right, a dream!" but at some point I paused, the voice in my head growing louder and finally wanting to be heard. Alright.

What do you want, "BÄÄH Cheap Bapp!" ... Excuse me? "BÄÄÄÄH Cheap Bapp!!!" Yeah, I heard you, I'm just wondering what that's about? This is the classy version of our much loved pear vanilla cake, can't you tell? The squeaky start dimmed down! exactly what might be THE perfection! "BÄÄÄ....Billig Bapp..." We're not getting anywhere like this, you need to be clearer.
"What more is there to say? This smells like La Belle, once flattened, straightened and trimmed and turned up full blast. Loud, artificial, intrusive, linear, like penetrating pan velvet, once completely burned off, overrun by plastic sweetness and rammed right in your face!"
hui, it's good. Rapping doesn't make you more believable. let me think.
"There's nothing to think about! Listen to your common sense, stop trying to like him. Listen to your head! What does it do? Right! It hurts! And what does your stomach say? That's right, it's bad, because for two hours it's been getting exactly the same message in constant intensity from the nerve receptors: "Get out, that's not healthy!"
I'm already kind of queasy.... "You're sick to your stomach!!!" But the base is coming soon... "The scent is just base! there's nothing else happening!"

What can I say, unfortunately, she should be right. She is not well behaved but always honest. Where The Original skillfully scrapes just past the "too sweet-sticky-loud statement" and so narrowly that the scent simply fascinates and evolves beautifully from colorful to dimmed, from cake to cream, this Intense variant always remains the same. The first hour stands out possibly still by a slight licorice note from the rest of the course, which for me, however, rather irritating and somehow Christmassy.
Otherwise, the fragrance really goes to my head very much and he has for me so nothing noble, deep or warm. For me, he is just loud, intrusive and one-dimensional, and I have to say that, although I really wanted to love him.
Too bad.

The durability is to be located in the upper third, especially the clothes goes downright a symbiosis with him.
i smelled him still the next morning on the skin after a spray at noon.

Rhubarb - what is that actually? A fruit? A vegetable? Or even the oversized cuckoo child of garden herbs?
A quick search revealed that we are dealing with a vegetable, or more precisely, a knotweed.
And now if it is a vegetable, why is its seemingly only use to be made into sour, hard to chew cake?
Apparently I just didn't get the right rhubarb pie in front of me when I was a kid, because it apparently enjoys great popularity all over Germany.
I have never understood the hype about it every summer, when mothers, grandmothers, neighbors and aunts sat enthusiastically around the coffee table and talked shop about the size of this year's rhubarb leaves, each specially baked corresponding cake kredenzten and showered with praise.
Today, I suspect that rhubarb doesn't really taste that good to anyone, but rather holds social significance.
And, that the appealing, delicious aroma it gives off fresh out of the oven somehow gives everyone a sense of rightness. That everything now has its order, because there is, after all, the same familiar pie, the same well-meaning frozen tons of leftover stalks, the same mountain of giant-leaf greens, and the well-stocked shelves in Grandma's basement of preserves, just like every year at the same time.
So rhubarb keeps The world in order? Stabilizes the social constructs of neighborhood and family, which are so easily shaken in their foundations, and which, as is well known, one cannot choose.
Or maybe it's just a seasonal vegetable with red stalks that some just like to plant and some even like to eat.
What do I know.
In any case, Delina conjures up this image in my mind's eye: a wonderful sunny afternoon in the most beautiful late spring, the air is pleasantly cool and fragrant with grass and blossoms of all kinds, there is nothing to disturb. The pink coffee table with its snow-white porcelain, the bouquet of the finest peonies and the fragrant coffee fits perfectly into this picture. The only thing that disturbs is that the ladies, who are sitting smiling around him, eating rhubarb cake and gossiping, actually do not really like each other in their deepest inner.
But apparently they are the perfect girlfriends at a perfect coffee table on a perfect spring day with the perfect rhubarb pie.
Which neither of them actually likes to eat.

Delina