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Dark aroma splendour
No, this fragrance is not a tribute to the three screen legends Marilyn Monroe, Montgomery Clift and Clark Gable, who were together in front of the camera for the 1961 film "The Misfits". The film - no cinematic feat, that's just a side note - went down in film history primarily for the fact that it was to be the last appearance in front of the camera for Monroe and Gable. Gable died of a heart attack shortly after filming was completed, Monroe a year later, presumably of a sleeping pill overdose.
I thought of this film, though, when I read about Arquiste's 'Misfit.'
But the carefully crafted story - it needs it today - goes like this: in 1877, in the city of Marseille, which already had a dubious reputation at the time, there are cashmere scarves lying around without men or women. Scarves that had enjoyed great popularity in bourgeois circles only a short time before, and which had been carefully packed, protected from vermin with patchouli leaves, and brought from faraway Kashmir. Now, however, the bourgeoisie, beset by the proletariat, finds itself on the defensive, and sees itself robbed of the aura of the avant-garde by a new social phenomenon, the bohemians: artists hungry for life, addicted to all kinds of debauchery, social 'misfits', outsiders. Scarves fall into their hands, and their patchouli aromas marry with the spicy, raw scent of southern French lavender.
As "olfactive signature of counter-culture" Arquiste promotes the fragrance.
Well, the story is quite nice, but to me it turns out more like Carlos Huber, looking at his Arquiste portfolio, realized that a patchouli scent would be quite ornamental. I suspect the elaborate convoluted saga was spun after the fact.
Inspiration is kind of a different story, but so be it.
'Misfit' is in any case a wonderful patchouli-centered fragrance that all those who love patchouli should try once. That one has a preference for this multi-layered, aromatic-woody note, however, is a prerequisite to be able to gain anything at all from this work. Not only two different patchouli essences are used, but also a patented by Givaudan, so-called 'Akigalawood', a synthetic fragrance building block that picks up the woody facets of the patchouli oils and complements them with peppery nuances.
That it is nevertheless not a patchouli soliflora, 'Misfit' owes to the participation of various other notes, some resinous, some balsamic, which give it a warm, comforting aura that fits well with the scarf association, but especially the lavender, which drives the patchouli a little in the parade and gives the fragrance a spin all its own.
Lavender and patchouli form a wonderfully contrasting yet harmonizing accord here, its herbaceous tips capped by dry-aromatic angelica root and the scent of earthy-sweet carrot seeds, while the brittle, creaky-woody heart is bedded on an ambery base of smoky styrax resin, labdanum, tolu balsam, and some tonka. Bitterly stale bergamot opens and frames the mostly somber fragrance painting, which is only wafted through now and then by a shy hint of rose and brightened by subtle ambrette chalkiness.
Pronounced citrus freshness, a floral bouquet, or even an aldehyde complex, which would let the fragrance soufflé-like rise, one looks in vain here, so that the fragrance could possibly be perceived as too heavy and burdensome because of its rather dense texture.
Here I like that.
But I'm also a big patchouli lover, like the complex scent of lavender, and the other contenders in 'Misfit' suit me just fine. Except for the tonka bean perhaps, whose matte vanilla sweetness for my feeling often drifts too quickly into gourmand realms. But since it appears here only as a nuance, giving the fragrance a little rounding down, I find it absolutely bearable.
The perfumer, Rodrigo Flores-Roux, also seems to be a big patchouli lover: before 'Misfit' it appeared clearly and accented with tobacco and animalic facets in 'Sandor 70's', then in the erotic leather dress of 'Palindrom II', and more recently in the delicate osmanthus chpyre garb of Galion's 'Bourrasque'.
'Misfit' is perhaps the most in-your-face fragrance in this patchouli series. It doesn't strike me as cluttered ('Sandor 70's' has that tendency), nor does any animalicism make it precarious ('Palindrome II'), or a richness of contrast particularly demanding (the osmanthus-patchouli-hyraceum combination of 'Bourrasque').
A kind of patchouli Buddha, which is certainly a little lacking in eroticism and bravado, but which effortlessly makes up for this lack with the comforting warmth it radiates.
The durability, especially on clothes (scarves!), is absolutely sufficient for my needs and the radiation is not overly offensive.
So 'Misfit' with its dark aromas splendor and civilized appearance has become for me a decidedly pleasant companion - especially now in winter!
I thought of this film, though, when I read about Arquiste's 'Misfit.'
But the carefully crafted story - it needs it today - goes like this: in 1877, in the city of Marseille, which already had a dubious reputation at the time, there are cashmere scarves lying around without men or women. Scarves that had enjoyed great popularity in bourgeois circles only a short time before, and which had been carefully packed, protected from vermin with patchouli leaves, and brought from faraway Kashmir. Now, however, the bourgeoisie, beset by the proletariat, finds itself on the defensive, and sees itself robbed of the aura of the avant-garde by a new social phenomenon, the bohemians: artists hungry for life, addicted to all kinds of debauchery, social 'misfits', outsiders. Scarves fall into their hands, and their patchouli aromas marry with the spicy, raw scent of southern French lavender.
As "olfactive signature of counter-culture" Arquiste promotes the fragrance.
Well, the story is quite nice, but to me it turns out more like Carlos Huber, looking at his Arquiste portfolio, realized that a patchouli scent would be quite ornamental. I suspect the elaborate convoluted saga was spun after the fact.
Inspiration is kind of a different story, but so be it.
'Misfit' is in any case a wonderful patchouli-centered fragrance that all those who love patchouli should try once. That one has a preference for this multi-layered, aromatic-woody note, however, is a prerequisite to be able to gain anything at all from this work. Not only two different patchouli essences are used, but also a patented by Givaudan, so-called 'Akigalawood', a synthetic fragrance building block that picks up the woody facets of the patchouli oils and complements them with peppery nuances.
That it is nevertheless not a patchouli soliflora, 'Misfit' owes to the participation of various other notes, some resinous, some balsamic, which give it a warm, comforting aura that fits well with the scarf association, but especially the lavender, which drives the patchouli a little in the parade and gives the fragrance a spin all its own.
Lavender and patchouli form a wonderfully contrasting yet harmonizing accord here, its herbaceous tips capped by dry-aromatic angelica root and the scent of earthy-sweet carrot seeds, while the brittle, creaky-woody heart is bedded on an ambery base of smoky styrax resin, labdanum, tolu balsam, and some tonka. Bitterly stale bergamot opens and frames the mostly somber fragrance painting, which is only wafted through now and then by a shy hint of rose and brightened by subtle ambrette chalkiness.
Pronounced citrus freshness, a floral bouquet, or even an aldehyde complex, which would let the fragrance soufflé-like rise, one looks in vain here, so that the fragrance could possibly be perceived as too heavy and burdensome because of its rather dense texture.
Here I like that.
But I'm also a big patchouli lover, like the complex scent of lavender, and the other contenders in 'Misfit' suit me just fine. Except for the tonka bean perhaps, whose matte vanilla sweetness for my feeling often drifts too quickly into gourmand realms. But since it appears here only as a nuance, giving the fragrance a little rounding down, I find it absolutely bearable.
The perfumer, Rodrigo Flores-Roux, also seems to be a big patchouli lover: before 'Misfit' it appeared clearly and accented with tobacco and animalic facets in 'Sandor 70's', then in the erotic leather dress of 'Palindrom II', and more recently in the delicate osmanthus chpyre garb of Galion's 'Bourrasque'.
'Misfit' is perhaps the most in-your-face fragrance in this patchouli series. It doesn't strike me as cluttered ('Sandor 70's' has that tendency), nor does any animalicism make it precarious ('Palindrome II'), or a richness of contrast particularly demanding (the osmanthus-patchouli-hyraceum combination of 'Bourrasque').
A kind of patchouli Buddha, which is certainly a little lacking in eroticism and bravado, but which effortlessly makes up for this lack with the comforting warmth it radiates.
The durability, especially on clothes (scarves!), is absolutely sufficient for my needs and the radiation is not overly offensive.
So 'Misfit' with its dark aromas splendor and civilized appearance has become for me a decidedly pleasant companion - especially now in winter!
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"...dark, smokey, lustful sound."
At first, I thought Antonio Gardoni's fragrances were overrated. Everyone raved about 'Maai', but not me. Somehow I did not want to find a right access, also 'Mem' and 'O/E' did not inspire me.
After some time, however, my sense of smell must have found some kind of key, I got access to these works and was inspired by them.
'Douleur!" however, knocked me out completely and I had to slowly, millimetre by millimetre, crawl my way back to it until I learned to withstand the scent, even to appreciate it and in the end to love it.
'Tyrannosaurus Rex' was then initially also something to get used to, but the key to understanding this impetuous work I did not have to look for long, it was simply there, so familiar to me was the Gardoni DNA meanwhile.
'Lita' is now perhaps the most accessible fragrance from the man from Brescia, at least that's how I feel about it today, with no guarantee that I would have felt that way before I got to know all the others.
First of all, 'Lita' is a very dark scent. One looks for fresh citrus sparkle in vain in it. The bouquet of gardenia, ylang-ylang, champaka and jasmine doesn't really help brighten it up either. But similar to 'T-Rex' it acts recognizably and clearly in the background, cloaked by peaty-woody, rather brown tones, or rather notes.
Superficially, coriander seed, sandalwood, tobacco, patchouli, myrrh and frankincense join hands over the entire course of the fragrance. This axis is seamlessly interwoven, amalgamated into a dense aromatic aroma with initially spicy, later also smoky nuances, the entire, without surprising turns of the fragrance course characterizing.
This aroma is underpinned and supported by three chords that overlap each other and lose little of their presence in the course: starting with a bitter-green accent of bergamot, cypress and vetiver, followed by the aforementioned floral quartet, leading into the soft, sweet-balsamic richness of benzoin, vanilla and tonka. Bracketing these three chords, which give depth, richness and volume to the somber main theme, is a chypre framework typical of Antonio Gardoni, though barely recognizable, with a bit of civet always mixed in. Just enough to make it difficult to smell out, but enough to create a sensual, erotic spin.
Here I always have the bald perfumer with his huge black beard in mind, as he, like a medieval alchemist, at night (he composes his fragrances supposedly always only when it gets dark) enthroned in front of his only sparsely lit with candles fragrance organ, this with many pulled registers mighty flare up, while a civet cat purring rubbing against his legs.
One image only...
It does, however, lead me to the musical background of the scent, though I can't really say what 'Lita' has to do with the pop duo called DUO, as well as their just-released album of the same name. The music of the two - they are not only a duo professionally, but also a couple privately - is nice, cheerful in places, a bit melancholic at times, but gloomy? No, at least not for my sensation.
Antonio describes it this way, "Using Duo's music for inspiration, I wanted to produce something that echoed their dark, smokey, lustful sound."
Okay, if that's how you feel about the music, then his scent fits perfectly.
Allegedly, the covers of the vinyl editions have been perfumed with the scent, so that the willing buyer is first confronted with a kind of fragrant overture upon unpacking, before the actual listening pleasure kicks in. A nice fusion of different sensory impressions, which should certainly somehow complement and support each other.
Unfortunately, however, the inner context does not quite reveal itself to me, and I find the fragrance far better than the music. But is no drama, because fortunately 'Lita' also works quite self-sufficiently, without tonal accompaniment.
I also find the letters in the typical 70s design, which decorate album and fragrance. At least to the latter they fit well, because if a decade for 'Lita' was godfather, then definitely this. Between 'Halston Z-14' and 'Yatagan' it would do quite well, if it wasn't a thoroughly modern scent.... Its habitus, however, is already quite 70s-like.
By the way, if you're familiar with 'T-Rex', 'Lita' should look a bit familiar. The charcoal-burning facets reappear here too, just as the two seem soulmates in general. 'Lita' is in a way a cousin, or rather nephew of Dino, albeit a nephew with manners and spared from his uncle's bloodthirsty outbursts. Because that's exactly what 'Lita' lacks: those metallic echoes that reliably trigger the blood associations in the 'T-Rex'-rage.
In 'Lita' it tröst no longer so impetuous, everything remains, despite many exciting contrasts, halfway on careful coexistence. This makes the fragrance more wearable than 'T-Rex', friendlier, but unfortunately also less exciting.
Nevertheless, the Bogue bottle will probably empty faster than that of Zoologist, because it is always such a thing with the exciting fragrances: they tend to overwhelm me, and now and then the others I confront with them.
As I said: for me, 'Lita' is the most accessible of all Gardoni fragrances so far, and for my environment probably also the most tolerable - although this test lockdown-conditioned is still pending.
But hopefully soon there will soon yes again a mask-free life without parfumfeindliche distance bans, and 'Lita' will be able to prove itself.
I'm looking forward to it.
After some time, however, my sense of smell must have found some kind of key, I got access to these works and was inspired by them.
'Douleur!" however, knocked me out completely and I had to slowly, millimetre by millimetre, crawl my way back to it until I learned to withstand the scent, even to appreciate it and in the end to love it.
'Tyrannosaurus Rex' was then initially also something to get used to, but the key to understanding this impetuous work I did not have to look for long, it was simply there, so familiar to me was the Gardoni DNA meanwhile.
'Lita' is now perhaps the most accessible fragrance from the man from Brescia, at least that's how I feel about it today, with no guarantee that I would have felt that way before I got to know all the others.
First of all, 'Lita' is a very dark scent. One looks for fresh citrus sparkle in vain in it. The bouquet of gardenia, ylang-ylang, champaka and jasmine doesn't really help brighten it up either. But similar to 'T-Rex' it acts recognizably and clearly in the background, cloaked by peaty-woody, rather brown tones, or rather notes.
Superficially, coriander seed, sandalwood, tobacco, patchouli, myrrh and frankincense join hands over the entire course of the fragrance. This axis is seamlessly interwoven, amalgamated into a dense aromatic aroma with initially spicy, later also smoky nuances, the entire, without surprising turns of the fragrance course characterizing.
This aroma is underpinned and supported by three chords that overlap each other and lose little of their presence in the course: starting with a bitter-green accent of bergamot, cypress and vetiver, followed by the aforementioned floral quartet, leading into the soft, sweet-balsamic richness of benzoin, vanilla and tonka. Bracketing these three chords, which give depth, richness and volume to the somber main theme, is a chypre framework typical of Antonio Gardoni, though barely recognizable, with a bit of civet always mixed in. Just enough to make it difficult to smell out, but enough to create a sensual, erotic spin.
Here I always have the bald perfumer with his huge black beard in mind, as he, like a medieval alchemist, at night (he composes his fragrances supposedly always only when it gets dark) enthroned in front of his only sparsely lit with candles fragrance organ, this with many pulled registers mighty flare up, while a civet cat purring rubbing against his legs.
One image only...
It does, however, lead me to the musical background of the scent, though I can't really say what 'Lita' has to do with the pop duo called DUO, as well as their just-released album of the same name. The music of the two - they are not only a duo professionally, but also a couple privately - is nice, cheerful in places, a bit melancholic at times, but gloomy? No, at least not for my sensation.
Antonio describes it this way, "Using Duo's music for inspiration, I wanted to produce something that echoed their dark, smokey, lustful sound."
Okay, if that's how you feel about the music, then his scent fits perfectly.
Allegedly, the covers of the vinyl editions have been perfumed with the scent, so that the willing buyer is first confronted with a kind of fragrant overture upon unpacking, before the actual listening pleasure kicks in. A nice fusion of different sensory impressions, which should certainly somehow complement and support each other.
Unfortunately, however, the inner context does not quite reveal itself to me, and I find the fragrance far better than the music. But is no drama, because fortunately 'Lita' also works quite self-sufficiently, without tonal accompaniment.
I also find the letters in the typical 70s design, which decorate album and fragrance. At least to the latter they fit well, because if a decade for 'Lita' was godfather, then definitely this. Between 'Halston Z-14' and 'Yatagan' it would do quite well, if it wasn't a thoroughly modern scent.... Its habitus, however, is already quite 70s-like.
By the way, if you're familiar with 'T-Rex', 'Lita' should look a bit familiar. The charcoal-burning facets reappear here too, just as the two seem soulmates in general. 'Lita' is in a way a cousin, or rather nephew of Dino, albeit a nephew with manners and spared from his uncle's bloodthirsty outbursts. Because that's exactly what 'Lita' lacks: those metallic echoes that reliably trigger the blood associations in the 'T-Rex'-rage.
In 'Lita' it tröst no longer so impetuous, everything remains, despite many exciting contrasts, halfway on careful coexistence. This makes the fragrance more wearable than 'T-Rex', friendlier, but unfortunately also less exciting.
Nevertheless, the Bogue bottle will probably empty faster than that of Zoologist, because it is always such a thing with the exciting fragrances: they tend to overwhelm me, and now and then the others I confront with them.
As I said: for me, 'Lita' is the most accessible of all Gardoni fragrances so far, and for my environment probably also the most tolerable - although this test lockdown-conditioned is still pending.
But hopefully soon there will soon yes again a mask-free life without parfumfeindliche distance bans, and 'Lita' will be able to prove itself.
I'm looking forward to it.
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Without pompous pomposity
Manuel Cross has proved that he can do chypre, especially old style chypre, with 'Chypre Siam', 'Tabac Vert', '40 Rogue' and 'Tuberose & Moss'. Whoever sniffs at these creations may completely forget that only a few years ago there were fierce debates about the pros and cons of banning oak and tree moss. A touch of 'Chypre Siam' and it's as if nothing had happened.
Well, he doesn't give a damn about the restrictions of an IFRA in faraway America. Let the pitiful colleagues on the old continent struggle to breathe new life into the good old, unfortunately assassinated Aunt Chypre - at his home she is still very much alive.
Now then, flora & fauna
I confess to having blindly ordered this fragrance, but what could happen: a new chypre fragrance from Mr. Cross, even advertised by the US-American online retailer Luckyscent as "...masterpiece of all-natural perfumery" - nothing could go wrong.
Didn't work either.
Flora & Fauna' is exactly what I had hoped for, and yes, even a little bit expected: a classic Chypre of the finest kind! The fragrance even surpasses its predecessors already mentioned - which in turn were, or are, already convincing representatives of this genre. With them, Manuel Cross illuminated the corners of the chypre cosmos: sometimes the green-spicy corner, sometimes the powdery-animal, or the Asian-floral. But 'Flora & Fauna' rests within itself, occupies the middle of the room, so to speak, or in other words: probably wants to and should be read as the quintessence of his struggle for an old-style chypre fragrance, one that only gently opens up to modernity and above all shows his own signature.
Of course, there are two heroes of the past that cannot be ignored in moderation: Coty's epochal 'Chypre', and Jacques Guerlain's answer to it, the no less epochal 'Mitsouko'.
Chypre Siam' can be seen in many ways as Manuel Cross's attempt to reinterpret François Coty's fragrance. Flora & Fauna', on the other hand, could be understood as a wooing for 'Mitsouko'. For Jacques Guerlain's ingenious trick was to juxtapose the bitter-mossy background noise of the chypre construct with a ripe fruit with its sweet-tart, even leathery nuances: the peach.
Manuel Cross chooses the apricot instead, or as a variant: a supposedly dried apricot.
And you can smell it right at the beginning of the fragrance, but hello! it literally jumps at you, and holds the bitter-shelled, citrus-fresh bergamot right underneath. This bitter-sweet fruit duo literally dances on the balsamic, softly ambered heart, which in turn is surrounded by a strong base of labdanum and oak moss.
Of course, the juicy apricot accord is a very clear hint towards 'Mitsouko', only that 'Flora & Fauna' is less madam-like, but rather more delicate and light-footed.
This may be due to the missing flower bouquet. Mitsouko' holds a whole bouquet in her arms: rose, jasmine, ylang-ylang, even lilac. The rogue scent: nada. There are no blossoms far and wide, at least none that would push themselves into the foreground. Manuel Cross has disarmed, or rather: ruffled off, so to speak. And lo and behold: the slimmed-down concept is working.
Whereby I wonder a little bit about the naming: 'Flora', which Flora? Well, also mosses, lichens and resins belong to the flora. But please, which 'fauna'?
I'm actually getting a little suspicious here
Manuel Cross advertises this fragrance by saying that it is 'all-natural'. Seriously? Even the civet, which is supposed to be in it, and which you can only guess at quietly?
Genuine, natural civet?
I hope not
Because as good as 'Flora & Fauna' smells, the use of real civet would disqualify this scent to a certain extent. A quiet bad conscience is already gnawing inside me, because of my rogue-chypre-enthusiasm, that I pressed the buy-button so fast...
Well, I'll find out, and until then I hope that the 'all-natural' doesn't really refer to 'all'.
Apart from the only subtly used civet, the leathery nuances of the 'fauna' must of course also be added. But when combining leather and chypre in this case, please do not think of genuine leather chypre à la 'Bandit' or 'Cabochard'. The leathery touch here is more of a team player than a protagonist, rather soft, light leather than rough and dark.
Here, 'Flora & Fauna' reminds me a bit of 'Diorling', whose leathery sides are similarly finely smoothed and softly scented, while the base doesn't develop the warmth of the Rogue fragrance at all. This, however, develops another recent chypre scent, Annette Neuffer's 'Chyprette', also 'all-natural'. Perhaps Manuel Cross was inspired by this one, because it is striking that barely a year after the Neuffer fragrance was released, Manuel Cross is coming around the corner with his own. While 'Chyprette' is of course purely natural, the explicit reference to the naturalness of 'Flora & Fauna' surprises me a little bit, because Manuel Cross was known for his resistance against bureaucratic regulations, but less for his inclination to natural perfumes.
In any case, the aim of his efforts was apparently to prove to himself and all sceptics that a chypre fragrance on a purely natural basis, without the use of synthetic substitutes, is feasible.
He succeeded
However, it is also understandable that the whole thing has its price. As Annette Neuffer explains on her website, natural extracts cost many times more than their synthetic substitutes - the differences are really enormous!
So it should come as no surprise that you have to pay a little more for a bottle of 'Flora & Fauna' than for other rogue fragrances, which in turn already contain a high proportion of natural ingredients.
As a small compensation for the surcharge, you will not only be rewarded with a high quality fragrance, but also with a pretty little wooden box that opens and fits the contents perfectly: fine and noble in a pleasant way, without any hint of pompous pomposity.
Bravo!
Well, he doesn't give a damn about the restrictions of an IFRA in faraway America. Let the pitiful colleagues on the old continent struggle to breathe new life into the good old, unfortunately assassinated Aunt Chypre - at his home she is still very much alive.
Now then, flora & fauna
I confess to having blindly ordered this fragrance, but what could happen: a new chypre fragrance from Mr. Cross, even advertised by the US-American online retailer Luckyscent as "...masterpiece of all-natural perfumery" - nothing could go wrong.
Didn't work either.
Flora & Fauna' is exactly what I had hoped for, and yes, even a little bit expected: a classic Chypre of the finest kind! The fragrance even surpasses its predecessors already mentioned - which in turn were, or are, already convincing representatives of this genre. With them, Manuel Cross illuminated the corners of the chypre cosmos: sometimes the green-spicy corner, sometimes the powdery-animal, or the Asian-floral. But 'Flora & Fauna' rests within itself, occupies the middle of the room, so to speak, or in other words: probably wants to and should be read as the quintessence of his struggle for an old-style chypre fragrance, one that only gently opens up to modernity and above all shows his own signature.
Of course, there are two heroes of the past that cannot be ignored in moderation: Coty's epochal 'Chypre', and Jacques Guerlain's answer to it, the no less epochal 'Mitsouko'.
Chypre Siam' can be seen in many ways as Manuel Cross's attempt to reinterpret François Coty's fragrance. Flora & Fauna', on the other hand, could be understood as a wooing for 'Mitsouko'. For Jacques Guerlain's ingenious trick was to juxtapose the bitter-mossy background noise of the chypre construct with a ripe fruit with its sweet-tart, even leathery nuances: the peach.
Manuel Cross chooses the apricot instead, or as a variant: a supposedly dried apricot.
And you can smell it right at the beginning of the fragrance, but hello! it literally jumps at you, and holds the bitter-shelled, citrus-fresh bergamot right underneath. This bitter-sweet fruit duo literally dances on the balsamic, softly ambered heart, which in turn is surrounded by a strong base of labdanum and oak moss.
Of course, the juicy apricot accord is a very clear hint towards 'Mitsouko', only that 'Flora & Fauna' is less madam-like, but rather more delicate and light-footed.
This may be due to the missing flower bouquet. Mitsouko' holds a whole bouquet in her arms: rose, jasmine, ylang-ylang, even lilac. The rogue scent: nada. There are no blossoms far and wide, at least none that would push themselves into the foreground. Manuel Cross has disarmed, or rather: ruffled off, so to speak. And lo and behold: the slimmed-down concept is working.
Whereby I wonder a little bit about the naming: 'Flora', which Flora? Well, also mosses, lichens and resins belong to the flora. But please, which 'fauna'?
I'm actually getting a little suspicious here
Manuel Cross advertises this fragrance by saying that it is 'all-natural'. Seriously? Even the civet, which is supposed to be in it, and which you can only guess at quietly?
Genuine, natural civet?
I hope not
Because as good as 'Flora & Fauna' smells, the use of real civet would disqualify this scent to a certain extent. A quiet bad conscience is already gnawing inside me, because of my rogue-chypre-enthusiasm, that I pressed the buy-button so fast...
Well, I'll find out, and until then I hope that the 'all-natural' doesn't really refer to 'all'.
Apart from the only subtly used civet, the leathery nuances of the 'fauna' must of course also be added. But when combining leather and chypre in this case, please do not think of genuine leather chypre à la 'Bandit' or 'Cabochard'. The leathery touch here is more of a team player than a protagonist, rather soft, light leather than rough and dark.
Here, 'Flora & Fauna' reminds me a bit of 'Diorling', whose leathery sides are similarly finely smoothed and softly scented, while the base doesn't develop the warmth of the Rogue fragrance at all. This, however, develops another recent chypre scent, Annette Neuffer's 'Chyprette', also 'all-natural'. Perhaps Manuel Cross was inspired by this one, because it is striking that barely a year after the Neuffer fragrance was released, Manuel Cross is coming around the corner with his own. While 'Chyprette' is of course purely natural, the explicit reference to the naturalness of 'Flora & Fauna' surprises me a little bit, because Manuel Cross was known for his resistance against bureaucratic regulations, but less for his inclination to natural perfumes.
In any case, the aim of his efforts was apparently to prove to himself and all sceptics that a chypre fragrance on a purely natural basis, without the use of synthetic substitutes, is feasible.
He succeeded
However, it is also understandable that the whole thing has its price. As Annette Neuffer explains on her website, natural extracts cost many times more than their synthetic substitutes - the differences are really enormous!
So it should come as no surprise that you have to pay a little more for a bottle of 'Flora & Fauna' than for other rogue fragrances, which in turn already contain a high proportion of natural ingredients.
As a small compensation for the surcharge, you will not only be rewarded with a high quality fragrance, but also with a pretty little wooden box that opens and fits the contents perfectly: fine and noble in a pleasant way, without any hint of pompous pomposity.
Bravo!
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Translated
Show original
Oysters at the fair
If a fragrance is shrill and demanding, yet strangely attractive, even overwhelming, then "Douleur!". When I tested it for the first time, I was as fascinated as I was repulsed - one rarely has such a screechingly loud, yet artfully composed scent under one's nose.
But 'loud' doesn't have to be bad, especially as its loudness comes along with a colourful colourfulness, exuberant temperament and infectious good mood: a fragrance like a hysterical fit of laughter.
But above all, "Douleur!" is a fragrance by Antonio Gardoni, that is to say: a complex, challenging, but in any case refined and sensual fragrance. A fragrance that shows that it wasn't conceived and stirred together, but that it matured, even if Freddie Albrighton once described the process of creation with "crash, bang, sparks... ...and finally we had Douleur!
This witty statement by the famous English tattoo artist reveals many a thing about the fragrance, which is a real crash of bold notes: there is a lot of melon, lots of mint, salty sea breezes, piercing rosy-floral chords, brightly glistening metal, heaps of cotton candy and a good deal of civet.
So it really makes you "bang" when this apparent olfactory cacophony hits the mucous membranes of unwarned noses, whereupon they reliably go down on their knees and only see "sparks", i.e. asterisks (you can read about this in many a commentary on this fragrance).
But after I came halfway to my senses again, this wild ride actually made me a little addicted. Because even though the scent is loud, the notes are shrill, squeaky colorful and daring, the sweetness almost causes toothache at once, this crazy mixture smells damn good.
At least I think I do. She smells so good that I joyfully sniff after the lively activity on the back of my hand.
So far, so great, but I still couldn't get beyond a small 1.5ml sample of this fragrance. The sheer presence of this fragrance finally knocked me down - and I'm used to quite a bit! But if one small droplet, nebulized by the spray mechanism, is enough to steam a whole apartment with "Douleur!" aroma in no time at all, then, yes, I have to pass, sorry as I am.
Messrs Gardoni and Albrighton, however, had an understanding.
May they also have had a lot of fun developing the fragrance - I think you can smell it! - the volume control slipped away from them for the sheer joy of the creative process.
So now they have sat down at the desk once again and mixed the fragrance anew. Basically not much has changed. "Douleur!" is still "Douleur!", the scent is still loud, wild, bold, sweet and animal, but everything in new balance. The overdriven parts are now a little more restrained, the aching sweetness is softened a little bit (after all, the scent is called "Douleur!", it wants to hurt!), the mint is more accentuated instead.
A small, but not entirely insignificant facet has been added: the spicy, camphor-like scent of the tea tree now wafts through the sweet-fruity, minty prelude with subtle streaks. So it's no big deal, just a small aromatic admixture that grounds the exuberant bustle a little.
The fact that oysters are supposed to have been included in the formula (according to Freddie Albrighton's Facebook post) is a gag, but a funny one.
I love oysters! Probably Antonio and Freddie too. Who knows how many oysters wandered down their gullets until they realized that the salty facets of "Douleur!" actually have something oyster-like about them: as if you were in the middle of a fair, between all the cotton candy stands, slurping a plate of these wonderful mussels that taste of fresh, salty sea breeze.
Despite what I consider to be a successful recalibration of the "Douleur!" theme, there is one thing that must not be forgotten: "Douleur!" is still a loud, garishly made-up, squeaky-coloured diva, or because of me: Divo, who easily upsets everyone and everything - only the walls don't threaten to burst anymore
Although the fragrance still has a presence and endurance that can make you feel anxious and fearful (it lasts for weeks on clothes!), the annoying, hysterical burst of laughter rattling in your ears has now turned into a loud, but above all contagious laughter.
In other words: "Douleur!" is now more portable without the concept having suffered.
Bravo!
But 'loud' doesn't have to be bad, especially as its loudness comes along with a colourful colourfulness, exuberant temperament and infectious good mood: a fragrance like a hysterical fit of laughter.
But above all, "Douleur!" is a fragrance by Antonio Gardoni, that is to say: a complex, challenging, but in any case refined and sensual fragrance. A fragrance that shows that it wasn't conceived and stirred together, but that it matured, even if Freddie Albrighton once described the process of creation with "crash, bang, sparks... ...and finally we had Douleur!
This witty statement by the famous English tattoo artist reveals many a thing about the fragrance, which is a real crash of bold notes: there is a lot of melon, lots of mint, salty sea breezes, piercing rosy-floral chords, brightly glistening metal, heaps of cotton candy and a good deal of civet.
So it really makes you "bang" when this apparent olfactory cacophony hits the mucous membranes of unwarned noses, whereupon they reliably go down on their knees and only see "sparks", i.e. asterisks (you can read about this in many a commentary on this fragrance).
But after I came halfway to my senses again, this wild ride actually made me a little addicted. Because even though the scent is loud, the notes are shrill, squeaky colorful and daring, the sweetness almost causes toothache at once, this crazy mixture smells damn good.
At least I think I do. She smells so good that I joyfully sniff after the lively activity on the back of my hand.
So far, so great, but I still couldn't get beyond a small 1.5ml sample of this fragrance. The sheer presence of this fragrance finally knocked me down - and I'm used to quite a bit! But if one small droplet, nebulized by the spray mechanism, is enough to steam a whole apartment with "Douleur!" aroma in no time at all, then, yes, I have to pass, sorry as I am.
Messrs Gardoni and Albrighton, however, had an understanding.
May they also have had a lot of fun developing the fragrance - I think you can smell it! - the volume control slipped away from them for the sheer joy of the creative process.
So now they have sat down at the desk once again and mixed the fragrance anew. Basically not much has changed. "Douleur!" is still "Douleur!", the scent is still loud, wild, bold, sweet and animal, but everything in new balance. The overdriven parts are now a little more restrained, the aching sweetness is softened a little bit (after all, the scent is called "Douleur!", it wants to hurt!), the mint is more accentuated instead.
A small, but not entirely insignificant facet has been added: the spicy, camphor-like scent of the tea tree now wafts through the sweet-fruity, minty prelude with subtle streaks. So it's no big deal, just a small aromatic admixture that grounds the exuberant bustle a little.
The fact that oysters are supposed to have been included in the formula (according to Freddie Albrighton's Facebook post) is a gag, but a funny one.
I love oysters! Probably Antonio and Freddie too. Who knows how many oysters wandered down their gullets until they realized that the salty facets of "Douleur!" actually have something oyster-like about them: as if you were in the middle of a fair, between all the cotton candy stands, slurping a plate of these wonderful mussels that taste of fresh, salty sea breeze.
Despite what I consider to be a successful recalibration of the "Douleur!" theme, there is one thing that must not be forgotten: "Douleur!" is still a loud, garishly made-up, squeaky-coloured diva, or because of me: Divo, who easily upsets everyone and everything - only the walls don't threaten to burst anymore
Although the fragrance still has a presence and endurance that can make you feel anxious and fearful (it lasts for weeks on clothes!), the annoying, hysterical burst of laughter rattling in your ears has now turned into a loud, but above all contagious laughter.
In other words: "Douleur!" is now more portable without the concept having suffered.
Bravo!
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I may be a ghost driver.
Oh yes, I can certainly understand why this fragrance meets with so much rejection: the start is really adventurous!
Anyone who has always wanted to know why Frédéric Malle called his tuberose fragrance "Carnal Flower" should take a sniff of "Tambour Sacré": the carnal facets of this narcotic flower cannot be more clearly defined. They also come into their own in Malles fragrance, but are kept in check by the entire scent spectrum of tuberose - the intense floral white-flower note, the carrion-like indoles and green nuances. In "Tambour Sacré", however, combined with an unsweetened coffee note, they burst forth uninhibitedly, as if the carefully balanced balance in the tuberose cosmos had suddenly shifted. Apparently the dark and sourly smelling coffee here eliminates large parts of the flower kaleidoscope, leaving the tuberose strangely naked, almost physically, in other words "carnal". Even the squeaky pink chewing gum hints are quite unpleasant without the robe that normally covers them and spray a penetrating hairspray aroma - you have to be able to stand all this!
I admit that this is difficult, because this prelude, this clash of the two main actors, who are supposed to shape the entire scent of "Tambour Sacré", really is an imposition.
It does not smell nice, at least not in the sense of 'harmonious', 'pleasant' or 'flattering'. No, this juxtaposition of harsh coffee and diva-like tuberose has more of an olfactory carnage that bathes both opponents in an unpleasant light. May they smell wonderful on their own, here they do not smell good anymore, neither coffee nor blossom.
Fortunately, there are more actors entering the stage and put an end to the confrontational hustle and bustle. Cardamom and cinnamon spice up the coffee, bitter-peeled fruit and the sweet scent of acacia drag the hysterically behaving tuberose from the battlefield.
The plump, warm base, characterized by resins, woods and balsams does the rest, and the fighting cocks calm down visibly. After about an hour, a complex, dark-toned, tangy-spicy and only slightly sweet oriental aroma has developed, which for a change gets by without the obligatory vanilla and fashionable oud.
Now "Tambour Sacré" smells wonderful! And as if it wanted to compensate me for all the inconveniences I had suffered before, the fragrance lasts for half an eternity thanks to Extrait de Parfum concentration.
Normally I am not such a friend of endless long lasting fragrances, but in this case I really have to make an exception, because this uniquely beautiful orientalism, with the now reconciled in the arms lying tuberose-coffee-team in my heart, I can enjoy hour after hour.
The team around Andrea Bissoli Rubini, perfumer Cristiano Canali and Francesca Gotti, the product designer, have created an amazing fragrance again after "Fundamental", but one you have to work hard to create, even more than its predecessor. "Fundamental" with its strong character, fruity and waxy grape accord was not an easy task, but "Tambour Sacré" goes a few steps further in terms of bulkiness.
For me this is art, really great, admittedly modern fragrance art. But ones that I cannot recommend with the best will in the world. I could just recommend "Fundamental", provided the addressee has an open nose for an unusual scent adventure. With "Tambour Sacré", however, I know that I would encounter complete incomprehension - at least at times, the fragrance is an olfactory hell ride that I would not like to impose on anyone.
And yet, I may be a ghost driver and think that everyone else is going in the wrong direction: I like everything about "Tambour Sacré", even the weird opening
In the meantime, I have noticed that the more often I wear the fragrance, the more I look forward to this wild start: to the unleashed tuberose screeching into the freshly brewed, unseasoned and unsweetened coffee - great!!!
Anyone who has always wanted to know why Frédéric Malle called his tuberose fragrance "Carnal Flower" should take a sniff of "Tambour Sacré": the carnal facets of this narcotic flower cannot be more clearly defined. They also come into their own in Malles fragrance, but are kept in check by the entire scent spectrum of tuberose - the intense floral white-flower note, the carrion-like indoles and green nuances. In "Tambour Sacré", however, combined with an unsweetened coffee note, they burst forth uninhibitedly, as if the carefully balanced balance in the tuberose cosmos had suddenly shifted. Apparently the dark and sourly smelling coffee here eliminates large parts of the flower kaleidoscope, leaving the tuberose strangely naked, almost physically, in other words "carnal". Even the squeaky pink chewing gum hints are quite unpleasant without the robe that normally covers them and spray a penetrating hairspray aroma - you have to be able to stand all this!
I admit that this is difficult, because this prelude, this clash of the two main actors, who are supposed to shape the entire scent of "Tambour Sacré", really is an imposition.
It does not smell nice, at least not in the sense of 'harmonious', 'pleasant' or 'flattering'. No, this juxtaposition of harsh coffee and diva-like tuberose has more of an olfactory carnage that bathes both opponents in an unpleasant light. May they smell wonderful on their own, here they do not smell good anymore, neither coffee nor blossom.
Fortunately, there are more actors entering the stage and put an end to the confrontational hustle and bustle. Cardamom and cinnamon spice up the coffee, bitter-peeled fruit and the sweet scent of acacia drag the hysterically behaving tuberose from the battlefield.
The plump, warm base, characterized by resins, woods and balsams does the rest, and the fighting cocks calm down visibly. After about an hour, a complex, dark-toned, tangy-spicy and only slightly sweet oriental aroma has developed, which for a change gets by without the obligatory vanilla and fashionable oud.
Now "Tambour Sacré" smells wonderful! And as if it wanted to compensate me for all the inconveniences I had suffered before, the fragrance lasts for half an eternity thanks to Extrait de Parfum concentration.
Normally I am not such a friend of endless long lasting fragrances, but in this case I really have to make an exception, because this uniquely beautiful orientalism, with the now reconciled in the arms lying tuberose-coffee-team in my heart, I can enjoy hour after hour.
The team around Andrea Bissoli Rubini, perfumer Cristiano Canali and Francesca Gotti, the product designer, have created an amazing fragrance again after "Fundamental", but one you have to work hard to create, even more than its predecessor. "Fundamental" with its strong character, fruity and waxy grape accord was not an easy task, but "Tambour Sacré" goes a few steps further in terms of bulkiness.
For me this is art, really great, admittedly modern fragrance art. But ones that I cannot recommend with the best will in the world. I could just recommend "Fundamental", provided the addressee has an open nose for an unusual scent adventure. With "Tambour Sacré", however, I know that I would encounter complete incomprehension - at least at times, the fragrance is an olfactory hell ride that I would not like to impose on anyone.
And yet, I may be a ghost driver and think that everyone else is going in the wrong direction: I like everything about "Tambour Sacré", even the weird opening
In the meantime, I have noticed that the more often I wear the fragrance, the more I look forward to this wild start: to the unleashed tuberose screeching into the freshly brewed, unseasoned and unsweetened coffee - great!!!
12 Comments
