Mourant

There's nothing about you I don't like. Except your name. Yes, already Shakespeare said: "What's in a name?". Your name does not detract from your beauty, you are more than welcome on my skin and in my nose. Even if you come along so boldly and try to play the hitchhiker, to ride on foreign waves and travel (as it seems to be typical for your house in general). So be it. But have you ever thought about a second baptism? The obvious resemblance to your ancestor from the house of Nasomatto is as shameless as it is honest, but you simply have nothing to do with hashish. Maybe we'll find you a new name.

One that really suits you,
to your blowing leather breath,
to your invigorating darkness,
the smoky balsam,
the rough brown,
that evaporates, spiritualizes, floats away
Memory of brutality,
faded gruffness,
Androgyny,
dry herb rising in resin,
tart melting on the tongue
a core of coffee and black snow.

Take it from me not krumm, but we baptize you around. Now don't be grumpy.
Maybe you can keep your first name. How about... Black Haze? Black Melt? Black Core? Black Snow? Or we'll throw something together for you from the following pool of words I can think of: Dark, Damp, Brown, Murky, Mud, Gloom, Somber, Saturn, Dusk.... Maybe the audience would like to participate? Other suggestions?

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So, how do I evaluate a fragrance that could not be a more obvious copy of one of the most famous niche fragrances? Probably only with my nose. It is actually the same to me that is served here in terms of the name and fragrance neatly at the role model. Because:
1. In my opinion, BH flies over his role model "Black Afgano (Extrait de Parfum) | Nasomatto" . He is more subtle, airy, multilayered. In comparison, BA seems to me a bit peatier, edgier, coarser and plainer. For me, BH is an improvement. BA does not fascinate me nearly as much.
2. People looking for a cheaper alternative to BA will find it here. I do not know why I should pay Nasomatto prices, if I get virtually the same (in this case in my opinion even better), with a by the way terrific durability and sillage, significantly cheaper.

How do you see this? Is it legitimate or on the contrary even "reprehensible" to support such a thing? If musicians would cover a song and pass it off as their own composition without reference to the original, that would bother me. Why is it any different with a perfume, since it is just as much a work of art? Or is the name such an obvious allusion that it already passes for a "concession", so to speak?
The brand ArteOlfatto seems to be "inspired" sometimes by foreign sizes ( "Habano Vanilla | ArteOlfatto - Luxury Perfumes" = "Tobacco Vanilla (Eau de Parfum) | Tom Ford" / "Wild Orchid | ArteOlfatto - Luxury Perfumes" = "Black Orchid (Eau de Parfum) | Tom Ford" ). Legally, it is obvious. But is the personal boundary between inspiration and copy crossed here? Or are the subtle differences legitimacy enough?

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Addendum: It occurred to me in retrospect that I assumed cannabis smell in general with hashish. Hashish (that is, the resin extracted from the cannabis plant) I have never smelled in the flesh, so I can not compare that at all with the perfume. But after the leaves / the typical Kiffgeruch smells this fragrance at least definitely not.

Sweet smoke in pink swath
pulls through old noble rooms

Soft leather, secretly leather
creeps around in the background

Ripe fruit, dark berries
shimmer in the darkness

Moonlight sighs on silver bowls
translucid the red fruit skin

Heavy furniture, mahogany
Bed me on velvet, blood red

Like ghosts his kisses
haunt dream's twilight

Parfumo helps in every situation. For example, when you realize that you still have nothing pretty green for the summer in the middle of your collection. But please, nothing in the bright-fresh-citrusy direction. Voilà, there you have club water. Already the hazy green of the bottle, the fragrance note list and the statements aroused in me the expectation to have stumbled upon an unusual dark green fragrance and she was not disappointed.

Because this water is dark, natural and unmistakably green. Club water invites me into a vast seedy garden. Here everything is overgrown, overgrown, overgrown. Old trees, some of them almost overwhelmed by ivy with its stony embrace, cast long shadows on wild meadows of all manner of herbs, grasses and nettles. In the middle of it all, a wide dark pond. Underwater, poison-green creepers sway in the summer evening amber light that breaks through the veil of duckweed slumbering on the warm surface of the water. One might think everything slumbers and stands here, were it not for the damp sounds of frogs, the distant chirping of crickets, and the hypnotic fluttering of a few dragonflies, flickering gold and emerald like art nouveau brooches as they bask in the dying sunlight.

- Morbid beauty, bitter balm, Flora's sweet(watery) poison, alluring and repulsive like a shimmering wet grave beckoning with bewitching white water lilies. Ophelia's final signature scent?

Unfortunately, this perfume seems to have fallen under the radar, otherwise I can not explain the few reviews here. Since it is also difficult to get (unless you want to buy it in foreign online shops for at least 150 euros), its popularity should unfortunately not change much more. I will probably have to continue to hold on to my two sample bottlings and report now from a lost treasure.

RED SQUARE is, as is not unusual for Mad et Len, a very natural fragrance. Pink smoke rises, peppery in the most delicate way, sensual, beguiling, invigorating. Inhaling the comforting warmth, I feel at times as if I were floating in a large wooden barrel of rosé wine.
At the same time, the fragrance offers me ambivalence without contradiction or disharmony: I perceive it as deep and yet airy, as sacred and yet erotic, as sweet without direct sweetness and slightly fruity, although there is nothing gourmand in and about it. This fruity effect and association is very passive, I think of tiny pink berries. It smells to me what pink pepper looks like.
The invigorating effect mentioned above comes from a metallic cool undercurrent in the overall warm effect, but it doesn't come across as fresh and garish, but gently slumbering like the dusted sparkle of tarnished silver.

RED SQUARE is an intimate fragrance that does not lavishly exude its red incense, but concentrates on its wearer, from the sillage you should not expect too much.
In take no development of the included notes perceive, in principle, he smells even after hours as at the prelude.

The name of this perfume is puzzling to me. Not the first part of the name, that explains itself when you smell it. But the square...
I see a red square of scarlet powder strewn like a magic mark on the floor of a sunken temple, its rock walls caressed by the rosy glow of an invisible spring. There, ignited by who knows who, the red square exudes its sweetly ethereal incense, gently smoldering as its soul floats away into space.... What a magical mixture that lies dormant in obscurity.

The short and concise name BLACK sums up this perfume. Pepper, smoke, leather, birch tar, smoldering wood, a black symphony, all infused from start to finish with the underlying, unobtrusive sweetness of licorice, giving the collected darkness a soft break and sensual appeal.
Fortunately, I cannot smell or confirm gourmand barbecue associations mentioned by some reviewers here. Rather, I perceive a radical, yet elegant fragrance. A pretty punk in black velvet. Ambivalence.

Not only do I think BLACK is a unique scent, but I quickly discovered an emotional connection to it. It smells to me like a friend that I connect with a lot. My brother at heart, my lover only in rare moments that are fleeting as smoke.
Crypt punk, lean and striking, big dark eyes in black-smeared sockets, dark hair, shaggy mohawk, scuffed leather coat, heavy boots, all black. Heroin addict. The relationship with him bittersweet, as addicts often are. A contradictory swell, one moment connection, fun, sympathy, affection, closeness, unfortunately always followed by disappointment in some form or another. One is tossed back and forth between hope, sympathy, disillusionment, sadness and anger within a toxic relationship.
Every time I just smell the bottle of BLACK, it's like this friend's shadow is visiting me. I can't be as close to him as I would like. But when I put BLACK on, his ghost is there, the memory of his distinctive leathery scent and the cloying smoke of his hair in my pillow that, regrettably, fades much more quickly, leaving me with longing. BLACK is my little harmless heroin. It quenches the longing, the (craving) addictive pressure, enveloping me with its warmth until, after eight to twelve hours, it's time for.... cold turkey or the next fix.