Pannacotta
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Pannacotta
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"Our first customer was a horse"
Just for the slogan quoted above, I like Hermès. Money nobility only, but just /age/ money nobility.
To pick it up, I smell multi-layered leather, although it's nowhere in it (maybe I just expect it) - and powerful, unknown to me, that could be the oak leaves, or the nondescript aldehydes. after an hour, however, the exciting top note fades away. What remains is a very old-fashioned soap scent in which I am spared the patchouli, but for which I still think I'm too young at 50.
What a pity, because the bottle - the now "standard" Hermès bottle, which has something of a soft-sucking, upside-down obelisk - the bottle, that is, I like it very much, and would have added another one to my collection, in addition to the summery Jardin en Méditerrannée and the discarded Eau d'Orange verte.
To pick it up, I smell multi-layered leather, although it's nowhere in it (maybe I just expect it) - and powerful, unknown to me, that could be the oak leaves, or the nondescript aldehydes. after an hour, however, the exciting top note fades away. What remains is a very old-fashioned soap scent in which I am spared the patchouli, but for which I still think I'm too young at 50.
What a pity, because the bottle - the now "standard" Hermès bottle, which has something of a soft-sucking, upside-down obelisk - the bottle, that is, I like it very much, and would have added another one to my collection, in addition to the summery Jardin en Méditerrannée and the discarded Eau d'Orange verte.
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Healing Ice Breeze
A little bit more than eucalyptus and menthol is probably already in Proraso "Linea Verde" - but it's really a pity that it fades away so quickly. The fragrance hardly lasts longer than the evaporation cold of the menthol. The healing touch of menthol is the strength of this aftershaves. This soothes the irritated skin, almost numbing it like an ice spray for sports injuries. It works, it soothes, it cares and refreshes - and it does not burn at all, even if you shoot the aftershave with the balloon atomizer of the big 500ml bottle almost directly into the torn pores.
From time to time I consider adding some classic men's aftershave to my arsenal of fragrances - a Floïd or a Pitralon or one of the many Bay Rum-Laurel varieties. And then I'll leave it alone: Proraso LV simply works too well, no matter what time of year it is. And because I only shave every three days, the 500ml bottle with the atomizer now holds for the fourth year; this year, however, a replacement is due
From time to time I consider adding some classic men's aftershave to my arsenal of fragrances - a Floïd or a Pitralon or one of the many Bay Rum-Laurel varieties. And then I'll leave it alone: Proraso LV simply works too well, no matter what time of year it is. And because I only shave every three days, the 500ml bottle with the atomizer now holds for the fourth year; this year, however, a replacement is due
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Pretty. Nothing more. But sometimes that is enough.
Creed's original vetiver was too snobbishly expensive for me, in a way that is well known in the area where I live - a shattered glass neighborhood with a rich neighborhood. Here people know posers and despise them with the disfavor of people who cannot afford what the others rub their noses in.
Rationally dressed up: I'm (still?) reluctant to spend more than twice as much on a Creed fragrance than on any of the at least very neatly made Hermès fragrances, which, as you know, are not cheap.
But the memory of the super-juicy, delicious, clean, bright green of Original Vetiver never left me: grassy without being really vetiver (Is it the petitgrain? Or the musk? I just don't know) - and so I was satisfied to surprised to find a similarly clean green scent at a fifth of the price: The cologne "Come together" by Thierry Mugler. There is something typically "cologne", colognic, about this cologne that reminds one of 4711 and refreshing tissues. A bourgeois light-heartedness of the 50s, but without dustyness and completely without double standards.
Simple, clean, quickly evaporated and forgotten, but at the first smell it is very tasty again. This is certainly more than petigrain and white musk, the freshness is emphasized by something like neroli or another citric, I think. Something clean, slightly soapy, very pretty, very superficial, like the much too young blonde you never dared to introduce to your friends, but from whom you still can't take your eyes off, like a vain old fop you became overnight.
Metaphors and emotions aside, as best I can: A summery perennial, simple, beautifully green, superficially delicious, of very short duration: after 4 hours I only notice insignificant wood residues. Too colognig for the very young, perhaps from the age of 28, twenty-year-old androgynous to sexless. The bottle as characterless as the past decade, square at the bottom, round at the top, inexpensive, but not cheap, like its contents: completely without mystery. Pretty, that's all. Sometimes you need just that.
Whether this is a "replacement" for Creed's original vetiver or just a poor man's op, that's for everyone to decide. For me it is enough if I want something fresh green like this, and then I can turn to something more mysterious again.
Rationally dressed up: I'm (still?) reluctant to spend more than twice as much on a Creed fragrance than on any of the at least very neatly made Hermès fragrances, which, as you know, are not cheap.
But the memory of the super-juicy, delicious, clean, bright green of Original Vetiver never left me: grassy without being really vetiver (Is it the petitgrain? Or the musk? I just don't know) - and so I was satisfied to surprised to find a similarly clean green scent at a fifth of the price: The cologne "Come together" by Thierry Mugler. There is something typically "cologne", colognic, about this cologne that reminds one of 4711 and refreshing tissues. A bourgeois light-heartedness of the 50s, but without dustyness and completely without double standards.
Simple, clean, quickly evaporated and forgotten, but at the first smell it is very tasty again. This is certainly more than petigrain and white musk, the freshness is emphasized by something like neroli or another citric, I think. Something clean, slightly soapy, very pretty, very superficial, like the much too young blonde you never dared to introduce to your friends, but from whom you still can't take your eyes off, like a vain old fop you became overnight.
Metaphors and emotions aside, as best I can: A summery perennial, simple, beautifully green, superficially delicious, of very short duration: after 4 hours I only notice insignificant wood residues. Too colognig for the very young, perhaps from the age of 28, twenty-year-old androgynous to sexless. The bottle as characterless as the past decade, square at the bottom, round at the top, inexpensive, but not cheap, like its contents: completely without mystery. Pretty, that's all. Sometimes you need just that.
Whether this is a "replacement" for Creed's original vetiver or just a poor man's op, that's for everyone to decide. For me it is enough if I want something fresh green like this, and then I can turn to something more mysterious again.
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Still.
Still.
I still listen to Killing Joke's "Eighties" or The Ruts' "S.U.S"
I still like pastel shades (rare) and neon colours (in small doses).
I still drink beer out of the bottle and I still haven't bought a leather jacket - at 50 it might be too late for some things - then - still - a parka will be enough.
I still sometimes let my beard stand for three days - by no means longer - and feel "most audacious".
I still wonder why puberty stops for women at the latest when they are mothers and never for men
I still wear Cacharel Pour L'Homme; since 1983.
With interruptions, because I had girlfriends who couldn't smell it.
At that time I smelled a girlfriend, and I only ever knew women - apart from myself - who wore it - but whose puberty, it seems, is now long gone. I don't know any woman who still wears it
I can't describe him, others are more called to do so. "green" "wood" and "carnation" will have to do
But: It's a keeper; if I have a 'signature scent', it's probably this one.
I still listen to Killing Joke's "Eighties" or The Ruts' "S.U.S"
I still like pastel shades (rare) and neon colours (in small doses).
I still drink beer out of the bottle and I still haven't bought a leather jacket - at 50 it might be too late for some things - then - still - a parka will be enough.
I still sometimes let my beard stand for three days - by no means longer - and feel "most audacious".
I still wonder why puberty stops for women at the latest when they are mothers and never for men
I still wear Cacharel Pour L'Homme; since 1983.
With interruptions, because I had girlfriends who couldn't smell it.
At that time I smelled a girlfriend, and I only ever knew women - apart from myself - who wore it - but whose puberty, it seems, is now long gone. I don't know any woman who still wears it
I can't describe him, others are more called to do so. "green" "wood" and "carnation" will have to do
But: It's a keeper; if I have a 'signature scent', it's probably this one.
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