NikEy

Those who have been dealing with perfumes and the background of their production for a longer time will surely already know: the pyramid as we get it in front of our nose is not always congruent with the actual ingredients of a fragrance. Not only is a large number of fragrances not listed at all (otherwise the pyramid would just scare many away), often the notes listed are more of a chord of different fragrances than individual natural or synthetic fragrances.

If you look at the two aspects, so that you can smell more or less than indicated in the pyramid, blind tests are of course even more fun. So also with French Affair.

The fragrance starts with a sweet and sour fruit with distinct green notes. The type of fruit is quite quickly identified and pretty clear: RHABARBER! Fresh, tart - only because of the sweetness, my thoughts went briefly in the direction of apple, but no, it remains with rhubarb.
Quickly moves bright musk into the heart of the fragrance, which is joined after a short time a warm-amber background noise. The combination of both provides - especially towards the end of the fragrance - a discreetly sweetish-powdery impression, although the tart rhubarb always gives a certain freshness. And the really extremely high-dose musk (don't get me wrong, everything here is soft and not piebald-synthetic) unfortunately reminds me of the typical Douglas fragrance mix in the women's department. Which is why I would have blindly classified French Affair in the mainstream.

The more surprised I am about the official pyramid of the perfume. Rose, moss, vetiver ... all aspects I have not perceived at all. Even from Chypre is here in classification and statements the speech. Not at all, for me the fragrance is an uncomplicated summer refresher with a soft base, which reminds me of many well-known women's fragrances.
And the conclusion? Blind testing is fun and brings one or the other surprise, with which one would never have expected. So let you send from friends perfumofreunden quiet times a few numbered sample...

I love the way Delphine Thierry's fragrances are composed. Sensual lightness, a near ethereal-floating overall compositions, which nevertheless bring an intensity that should not be underestimated. Condottiere makes her style instantly recognizable and immediately transports you to spring. The greenery in the gardens grows, buds form and the wondrous world of blossoms bursts forth and rains down upon us. Pastel white lilac lies a soft, blooming leather robe over us...

Condottiere starts with the scent of a memory conjured by a friend: Violet Blueberry Jam. Fortunately implemented in the perfume almost entirely without the jammy sweetness, the berries are wonderfully integrated and support the dark purple aspects of the blossom. A dry, but not carroty iris and delicate suede aspects make it clear that we are not dealing with a cloying violet interpretation No, they create an edge that for me makes the fragrance completely unisex.
Just at the beginning I hear a dry-bodied note that could actually be angelica, I know it from the thematic scent of Malle. This image is not dirty, but rather provides a grainy, sandy background noise. As the fragrance progresses, this subtle physicality settles, becomes cleaner and conjures up the image of white sheets, drying in the wind, in my mind. Constantly portraying the garden as a fragrant setting, the fragrance never loses its basic powdery-fresh and violet-flowered character.

Condottiere is not brute, force of nature or gloomy - but fine, artistic and perfectly composed. It is fresh, cool and full of life, even if violet always contributes a certain melancholy. I am especially happy about the well-tuned intensity of the perfume - after all, I have encountered too many lately that still harassed me the next morning with their durability and radiation.

or: how perfume and happiness are connected.

...and so I sit now - in the middle of the city - in the quiet green. In front of me still withered reeds, which rustle softly in the wind. Above me the spring sun, which shines through a hazy veil on the earth. In my hand a good book, the park bench like an ever-present place of rest. And on my neck and wrist these few drops of Le Sillage Blanc...

The perfection of the day, the perfection of the fragrance, everything is right. The leather jacket gives the right warmth and the right olfactory complement to nature and fragrance. Not that the Dusita is a leather scent, no. But there is a little hint of it in the heart of the green. Le Sillage Blanc embodies the cool aspects of nature. Pastel, refreshingly spring-like yet darkly aromatic greens. An austerity marked by galbanum, but almost entirely offset by lightness. Oak moss as the embodiment of the dense, mossy forest look, a hint of dirt and leather. The airy freshness makes me think of vetiveryl acetate and Iso-E-Super, but I can't verify these thoughts based on the pyramid.

Le Sillage Blanc is difficult to classify: aromatic-green, modern chypre interpretation probably fits it. It is characterized by its leanly composed nature. It doesn't flaunt notes, is never overbearing. This suggests that it also wears excellently in warm weather, and I will definitely test that soon!

To create a new interpretation based on something that already exists always leaves room for the shadow of the existing and for criticism. But in the same breath, it also honors the greatness of the original, elevating the creativity of the original creator to a new level. While Chanel doesn't cite a reference here, many of you perfumos will have come across a truly great perfume classic that was one of the founders of its genre: citrus, powder, vanilla and resin. A pioneer of the Western definition of Orient: Shalimar!

The structure of Le Lion and its comparison to Guerlain's Shalimar came to me immediately after spraying it on. Especially the radiant citrus head in combination with powder and resin, immediately makes a clear connection for me. It's the overall structure rather than the individual notes in each case. With labdanum, Chanel manages to incorporate an entirely different variation of resin. Often relatively tart and naturally with a dirty, grungy quality, the cistus resin here adds a distinct, almost masculine bass. The combination with vanilla can best be described as a disreputable (smoky) dark powder a lá Chanel-DNA. Draws clearer edges than the opoponax in Shalimar, which can come across as equally animalic in its own way. Whether the subtle earthy tones here are more due to labdanum or patchouli, I can't make out, but I can make out a flattering impression of leather, which comes along without the classic synthetics.

I like the nod to Guerlain's classic. Le Lion seems darker, edgier and altogether more modern. Unisex and in any case for all men who may not have dared to wear Shalimar so far, but actually liked him.
As a small drawback, I personally notice only the very intense sillage, which is almost atypical for a Chanel Exclusif and makes the fragrance relatively difficult to dose. A slightly more discreet impression would have done him good.

When you meet Spigo, it seems impossible not to think of the lavender-vanilla reference combination from Caron. This unites both fragrances, as does the fact that they are apparently old, classic men's fragrances. As is so often the case, these fragrances were composed so long ago that they have long since lost their supposedly old-fashioned flair.
When I hear the word classic men's fragrances, I think of spicy, leathery or herbaceous scents, all of which express supposed masculinity with their unsweet and tart nature. Quite different with Spigo (or Pour un Homme de Caron), it's hard to believe that such sweet-soft scents were established long before the era of the spicy leathery-green 70s-80s scents, purely in the men's segment. It's much funnier that many consider today's powdery vanilla men's fragrances to be too feminine, but classics like this one to be masculine and old. I can see almost more similarities to today's fragrances than to those of 30-40 years ago.

Enough philosophizing! Spigo does not demand screaming attention because of his soft, calm nature. On the contrary, it combines a wonderfully fresh and radiant blue lavender top note with a soothing vanilla base. While I find it difficult to perceive clear woods or herbaceous notes, I can at least sense a citrus prelude for the first few seconds. Although it plays no role in my perception. The actual course of Spigo takes place more in the lavender-vanilla combination, which - funnily enough - for me has a clear resemblance to the WD-40 spray already in the Caron (where we are back to the real men's smells). But unlike the genre-forming older brother, I like the kind of vanilla in the Spigo much more. After the lavender has warped as much as possible, a rich, dark bourbon vanilla peels out. Sweet? Yes, but much less than the vanilla sugar sweetness in the PuHdC. And thus for me in a certain way more masculine, ambry and reassuring.
And when do they wear Spigo now? For me the scent fits perfectly into autumn, sunny days, cool nights. A warm hug is already good - and it will certainly still do it in the approaching winter!

In conclusion, I find it hard to understand why a lavender-vanilla fragrance can be worn more by men than by women, so ladies, please test it! If you like beautiful lavender notes and one of the most beautiful bourbon vanilla notes, you are absolutely right here. I like Spigo better in every aspect than the - not really - fragrance twin from Caron!