Mörderbiene

After pulling Wellington out of the rehearsal tin (thematically true to a former shortbread tin) yesterday, I was forced to understand the connections of the Trio Infernale von der Insel, which have been brought into play here several times, namely and in chronological order Wellington, Blenheim Bouquet and Town & Country. The three are each about a quarter of a century apart, and while fashion and taste experienced the greatest changes in some art movements around the turn of the century - not least due to social and political developments - the development of British olfactory preferences seemed to stagnate.
For a strong similarity between the three fragrance brothers cannot be denied.
Common to all three is a greenish hesperidic prelude dominated by lemons, an underlying or subsequent herbaceous lining, as well as a simple decrescendo with powdery touches at the end.
And yet, on closer examination, differences can be identified.
First of all, a direct comparison shows that Wellington is much more powdery than its scented cousins over the entire course.
And also in terms of content (presumed) differences can be identified. By the way, the pyramids are not much help here - they assume a complete lack of citric notes in Town & Country, and for Wellington no lavender is mentioned. But it's in there, my nose would have to deceive me a lot
Beginning with the top note, it can be seen that the lemon in Blenheim Bouquet and Town & Country is very fruity-cesty-sour and is also supported by the typical aromatic lime. Wellington, on the other hand, offers plenty of herb-green bergamot as an equal partner to lemon, and light orange tones are also present. And while Blenheim Bouquet and Town & Country - always within the very similar, previously described framework, mind you - are followed by the herb bed next to the kitchen door, Wellington chooses the flower bed in the other direction. Very subtle indeed and therefore not to differentiate further, I would trust the indicated lily of the valley if a discreet flower powder was mixed into the fragrance.
There is nothing more to say about the fragrance developments, the basic decrescendo is already beginning.

If I had to visualize the connections between the three fragrances, I would do this with an acute triangle: Blenheim Bouquet and Town & Country connected by the short side, Wellington at the more distant, acute-angled corner.

Wellington could also be related to another British - I am thinking of Lords, respectively Douro. There you find the notes and developments that Blenheim Bouquet is going off, as there is the beginning orange prelude, as well as the flowery heart
Wellington as the child of Blenheim Bouquet and Lords? Considering the direction of time probably rather the other way round, but thematically this seems quite plausible.

Lovers of other fragrances may shake their heads, 'everything smells the same' - but I have now created the justification for the possession of all three [four(five)] fragrances, so this only affects me peripherally :)

The title suggests it, I would like to tie my comment loosely to that of the previous speaker.
Maresciallo translates as sergeant, Marescialla would therefore be the sergeant's wife, or, for historical reasons, rather the wife of the sergeant. I do not know how to link this name with the scent even after activating the rear brain convolutions, so this information is only in passing

When Susan brought the sample to our Corona miniature perfume-spätzletreff - she knew I appreciated the brand - I didn't know Caligari's comment. And was accordingly whether the bitingly sharp vapours, which wanted to war my nose, were not prepared
Marescialla starts very special, even unpleasant. I actually smell some linoleum wax like in the high corridors of our old school (or a police station?), resinous turpentine (maybe the watchman's wife paints?), modelling glue (?) and a hint of sweetness of an overripe banana (the leftover of the lunch break package from the day before?). Also I wouldn't know anything that would be comparable even in the beginning.
I had already written off the scent internally, tested something else - more boring - in the course of the afternoon, temporarily lost Marescialla from my nose.
On the drive home, a fascinating, spicy and soapy smell rises into my nose. Within the bounds of possibility at the wheel, trying out all kinds of sprayed body parts, I got stuck at the right crook of my arm relatively quickly.
After the unspeakable first hour, Marescialla develops into a not necessarily pleasant, but nevertheless captivating patchouli-wood chord, in which the soap note typical of the brand is embedded. There is reddish spice, dry earthiness, a hint of banana-like residual sweetness, which however blends in wonderfully and subordinates itself, there are creaky woods and curling pipe smoke, and just mild, Italian soap.

Even if I will not acquire the fragrance despite all the captivating fascination and ultimately not unpleasant development - I am not that masochistic - Santa Maria Novella prove impressively here the range of fragrances they are able to cover in constant quality.
I understand the attraction that this scent seems to exert on the previous speaker, but I can barely escape it.
Although it is with great pleasure that I wear it for the third time in a row...

In the mid-nineties, Courrèges launched 'Niagara', a men's fragrance that already seemed a little out of date, as it was more reminiscent of the fragrance two decades earlier. This one spoiled the nose with citrus-mild herbal green and tender conifer notes, and is traded meanwhile at moon prices.
Esprit Libre' by the glove maker Antonio Visconti knows how to caress the nose with something similar
However, I do not want to assume an absolute equality of the two fragrances, but only a direct comparability. And as a substitute, the Italian free spirit might also have come into question. But this is prevented by its early setting and low distribution alone.

It begins with similarly bittersweet citrus notes, from this lively green-yellow melange only the characteristic lemongrass can be clearly smelled, which fortunately does not give rise to thoughts of Asian street cuisine here. These are soon overlaid with herbs, especially thyme, but certainly others besides. And as with Niagara, although less pronounced, the light medium green changes over conifer needles to a deep shimmering dark green. The whole is bedded on a base of fluffy, softly scratchy moss, which provides a light soap touch throughout, in spite of all natural appearance.

Ultimately, the focus has shifted from conifers to herbs, the fragrance appears somewhat lighter and more natural. And above all, it is just as dead

In any case, pardon my English, I find this premature attitude a mess.
However, the whole brand does not seem to exist anymore, more information can only be found in the blog of ALzD, who probably ran the brand for a while.
Maybe (hopefully) somebody will come up with the idea of spanning a green arch from citrus over herb to mossy coniferous forest.

+++

On my not very compact watch list there are a lot of things that I don't really expect to find their way under my nose - because I've decided to buy only with the greatest of complications or because of similar obstacles. I also counted Visconti's free spirit among them, but a generous donor helped me to this joyful surprise - for this again most obliging thanks, dear Serge!

I count a hundred years now
And get older every day;
The fragrance king Jacques Guerlain
Raised me in the tank

Since then many things have happened
But I don't know anything about it,
At the moment, when for money lets me go
A merchant named Vuitton.

I'll wash your lemon tide,
Plenty of it,
And already reasonably good spirits
In scorching hot sunshine

It's a real treat
As short as it may be,
Aromas from the south are available
To please the nose.

And because I won't be here for long
Will I become shy in the long run,
A gush from my jug Dir
Ignite life anew.

I do not know the pain of death
And not dying hardships,
I will live forever
Every day redness.



+++

With thanks to Morgenstern, whose turtle gave me the basis.

Despite over 30 degrees, this was the first fragrance from the hiking package that jumped out at me with exclamations like 'Test me!' and 'Take me!
Giacobetti gives us hope.
The attitude of the Penhaligons' elixir still hurts me. The conceptual structure and the chord of rose and orange blossom in Costes 2 are only roughly reminiscent of this.
The focus here is on soft, dark cinnamon, which has been subtly floral with the above chord.
But in itself the black Costes is actually quite beautiful. The cinnamon is somehow alienated, darkened, dusty, and the guaiac wood is left without the otherwise characteristic and unpleasant note of mould. In between just that floral accord. A thin breath of freshness also runs very finely through the overall picture - somehow vaguely minty in tone - and prevents it from slipping into sweet or even gourmand realms. Actually, this black Costes is not sweet at all, and the cinnamon is also used to create woody-balsamic rather than spicy-sweet notes.
For me personally it lasts too long, but I might be the exception.
So a really fine and balanced autumn and winter scent for frozen noses and nasal cavities to warm up, which I like more and more with time.
And a faint hint of my elixir still caresses my nose. Giacobetti, unmistakable.