Rubia

This is about the most boring thing I've ever smelled. It's sweet, it's floral, it's nonspecific. Nothing stands out, I can't make out any of the notes, except maybe something rosy. I smell no bergamot, no grapefruit, no pink pepper, no incense. And I don't smell pear, unless by "pear sorbet" they mean something like Del Monte Williams Christ preserves. But even then, I smell more sugar syrup than pear. Like I said, there's something rosy about it. I'm not familiar with the pyramid candidates iris and ambro-thingy, unfortunately. I don't know enough about orange blossom either. I'm afraid that orange blossom smells entirely different from orange zest or juice (is that so?), and that I don't like it - as opposed to zest and juice.

To me, this is a scent that does nothing wrong, but also does nothing right. It's like pictures in the waiting room at the doctor's office: lovely, non-controversial, lowest common denominator, banal. Laskarina doesn't come cheap. Had I bought it instead of just purchasing a bottling, I'd feel like I'd purchased an expensive museum ticket, but instead of the Louvre, I'd come to the IKEA poster section.

Why fabricate something like this in the niche instead of mainstream for deodorant and fabric softener? Possibly Laskarine is highly priced because the ingredients are sustainably and fairly sourced and very skillfully crafted? But then it's a shame it wasn't made into something more exciting. And sustainable, fair, and skillfully sourced is surely available as a Weleda deodorant or essential oil or something.

I tested away a 1.5 ml sample and every time I smelled it on skin or paper, my first thought was: boah, how boring, how rowdy, like class crush from parallel class 8b. Ok: Maybe my newbie nose is missing all kinds of artistry and subtlety here - but how quiet it would be in the Parfumo forest if only the experienced birds were chirping. In short: I'd find a bold scent that misses much more exciting than this sweet-floral bla.

A few months ago I had bought an Essenza Nobile sample of Molecule 01.
I could detect the scent, but the not consistently. Somehow he danced around me and could not be grasped when *I* wanted it, but when he wanted it. Like a dream that you only occasionally get a story snippet of after you wake up. What I smelled, I liked. Association: a pencil case left out on the patio in the August sun - you open it up, and crayons and pencil sharpeners secrete their peculiar odor. Even a scented gum sweats out a few molecules. Sounds bad? But is meant positively.
Now week before last: I'm walking through a small shop and an intriguing perfume rises to my nose. Wow. I run in the fairway of the other three Kund:innen by the aisles, ready to ask the scent source, what that is. Eventually I figure out that my scarf is the source. The last time I had worn the Molecule sample time.
Now, on the one hand, it's flattering that I'm stalking myself, but on the other hand, it makes me a little crazy that the stuff is so errant.

I'm new to Parfumo and I'm new to the world of perfume. Nevertheless, I dare with a second, questioning comment from the cover. Most of my impressions are probably not "right" and will change when I get to know more. But in my later olfactory education it helps to write down how something affects me and to get tips. So let's go:
The fragrance starts warm, flowery and not too sweet, which I think is good. He's got nothing citrusy or green for me. I think I smell rose, but if it is rose, there would be more flowers in the game that I can't identify. "White flowers" is a fragrance - is that what I smell? To my association at least it would fit.
The scent becomes powdery by my standards. There's a certain dryness and something that reminds me of the pastel bead powder I bought over 25 years ago as a problem skin teenager in the hope that every bead color will hide, or rather solve, one of my skin problems. Well, and now that I've googled the powder, I know again that it was from Guerlain and that it was called "Météorites" and that there is a perfume based on it. Menno. If Google could have knocked on my door and let me know. Météorites has iris, violet, heliotrope in the pyramid. Is there any of that in Buxton?
So back to Buxton. The lighter notes have meanwhile left the fragrance. At the beginning he also had something light, as if laundry had been hung up in front of the open window, and the morning wind blows a breath of fabric softener in. Now it becomes heavier, warmer and the predominant flower or flower combination becomes more and more intense. Pleasant and pleasant, but charm, tension, challenge do not arise.
I imagine a tender woman about thirty sitting at her dressing table. 10 o'clock in France. Through the white wooden louvre doors in front of the balcony, the scent of blossoms comes out of the garden. Actually, it's rather the park of a villa where young Michelle Pfeiffer is just getting ready. From time to time she opens the drawer of the little table and a breath of wood mixes into the powder swaths. (I have to look at "Dangerous Lovelages" again. Wasn't Pfeiffer the innocent one who was badly played along?) In any case, at about 11 o'clock, our beauty is thinking about whether she might slip into the warm feathers for the morning tea. Unfortunately the warmth makes the flowery one too strong for me, almost a bit stunning.
I tried to ignore the thought of the song "Sexual Healing" by Marvin Gaye because I don't like it very much. I just read the lyrics. Hmm. Is the song now about being released from your drives by tender love or is "Sexual Healing" a euphemism for letting out the urgent lust? (By the way, I have put a lot of effort into this ladylike paraphrase :-)
For me at least "Sexual Healing" has nothing of wild sex, but rather of security or waking up with someone with whom the night was tender. Nobody loses control or sweats. If I can't imagine the name without it, then the scent for me personally rather says "flower sex" or better "flower sex" (it smells adult already), but not "Let's do it. Now and here!".
With the scent I would perhaps convey to someone with few subversive preferences that I am the woman of my dreams. It's like the longing of my bank advisor. But do I? Och nö.
So, and now looking at the fragrance pyramid. Oops, jeez... that doesn't seem to match my impressions at all. Especially the "fresh-fruity" description of some ingredients confuses me. Do I have to rethink my relationship to fruit?

Freshly sprayed, I find Fara dry, warm and elegant lemony - like expensive lemonade: hardly sweet, with lemon zest rather than lemon juice. Not a freshness bomb like some citric perfumes that I find difficult to cleaning.
The smell awakens in me the idea of an afternoon in the south. A breath blows over from the summer-dry coniferous forest, no sea anywhere. Freshly showered, it is so hot that a hint of saltiness and fresh sweat is immediately produced - and that in a person you find very attractive. A scene like in "Beyond Africa" in which Dennis Finch Hutton washes Karen Blixen's hair. Just "Beyond the Mediterranean".
My imagination was greatly promoted by the perfumery, which explained to me, among other things, the association cumin sweat. Without that, my newcomer would certainly not have reported such pictures to my head. Maybe I tested five scents during the perfumery visit. I found the majority beautiful and exciting, but from the place on the skin where Fara was, my nose did not get rid of the whole evening. I could have eaten myself. I haven't had that yet. I'll be right back the next day to buy it.
In the course of time, the fragrance becomes softer, the sweat a bit more pointed and pungent, an idea of salty skin that heats up in the sun. Fundamentally new, what smells into my picture and spins it further, I do not discover . A shortcoming? I don't know ... I like what I smell too much for that - please keep everything the way it is. Only very briefly the memory of the blue aquamarine shower gel of my childhood appears, the one with the seahorse on it - thank God it swims away quickly again.
According to the fragrance pyramid there should be some other things to smell, but as long as I haven't smelled musk, ambergris or magnolia in the corresponding reference fragrances or oils, there is a blind spot on my skin, and I don't dare to make any classifications. I smelled the incense I brought back from my holiday, but I don't really find it in Fara, just like mint. Cumin for that, all the more so. I was just testing which one was mortared. Fits! - but I certainly wouldn't have come across that alone at this first perfume encounter, although I often cook with cumin.
Fara fades with me after about three, four hours. Too bad, it's too fast for me. However, my skin "swallows" quite nicely, as one saleswoman said. On the cardigan the scent is still very clear after one day. According to my roommate I don't pull a Fara flag behind me, and the apartment doesn't smell Faraesque either, although I spray every day.
I am surprised that Fara is not classified as unisex but as men's fragrance. Really?
Okay, now I have a bottle full of great man to carry on my skin

Unfortunately Anaïs Anaïs smells for me from front to back like the bouquets of flowers, which one quickly dumps into an unused adjoining room. Stunning, dangerous for headaches. If it's in the air, you can't cook, you can't think, you can't sleep. I suppose it's the lily that penetrates the ether unchecked. Other notes or subtleties are unfortunately lost for me