Rutil

There are door handles that have a story to tell; often there was a thread in the game. And again there are banal occurrences with a snack, which did not only serve those days to fill my still young stomach lovingly - no, this snack was given a special role. It was allowed to be stage, stage for my front incisor. This event was quite repulsive for me, as I did not expect it at all and so the milk tooth lay fat and shimmering white on the bread after the first bite. But of course the whole thing had an advantage; I could get involved in an exchange deal with the tooth mouse...
In general, tooth mice don't seem to be choosy, even sealed milk teeth are accepted and turned into a small present overnight. As a little child I often wondered what might happen to all these teeth...are they made into new teeth? Does a frustrated dentist have a bizarre passion for collecting? Does the tooth mouse build itself a tooth palace?

Dent de Lait - the olfactory milk tooth; a perfume that brings back memories or causes slight disgust due to the blood chord already mentioned during reading. Well, it's not that bad at all.
The prelude is, due to the aldehydes used, metallic and soapy and will last for some time. Coconut milk and almond add a sweet and slightly creamy creaminess and weaken the metallic impression. The blood chord is wafer-thin and becomes perceptible at best in the prelude by the aldehyde in its metallic form. The durability is astonishingly enduring; the Sillage is already quite room-filling with a sprayer and holds itself accordingly.
In general, the perfume moves in a tame, unspectacular direction without much progression, and so the name "Dent de Lait" may evoke associations, but ultimately remains a kind of Nivea cream with a clinically sweetened undertone

Winds whip through the fresh laundry in the garden. You can hear the sheets fluttering. A white tiled bathroom. Pure steam is pouring out of the shower. Hard cotton terry dries the body. A clean T-shirt lies over your shoulders. The window opens. The coolness enters the room. Condensation drips down. A day begins...
You shouldn't expect too much, because Cotton is quite simple knitted. In the beginning, the fragrance is fresh, almost aquatic and relatively masculine. Bergamot and mandarin, unlike orange and peach, are easily recognizable and slightly tart but by no means penetratingly citric. The lavender can be heard almost throughout and adds a gentle spicy character to the composition. Jasmine, lilies of the valley and cotton are quite flat, hardly noticeable and in general cotton can only be understood in a synthetic sense, at best it can hardly be determined. Sandalwood and white woods stabilize without appearing rigid and angular, musk and suede are kept in the background and so the slow finish is woody, soft and close to the skin. The interplay of all notes is quite harmonious, because they may do justice to the idea of cotton in the fragrance impression. The shelf life is moderate, but in contrast to Rain and Cucumber much worse; the sillage is mild.

Cotton is not a high-flyer, not a loud companion...rather a perfume for quiet days, days without sensation, boring days. Functional restraint in the bottle. Plain, white, clean and rubbed.

It's not easy being a snake cucumber. When you're crooked and crooked, you're rigorously sorted out. If that's not the case, you get a plastic tube to wear you down and end up in a supermarket carton with a lot of other cucumbers. There one ekes out one's existence in the simple neon light until one is taken along, unpacked and divided. The organically grown cucumber has a small advantage. It can grow as it likes and now, depending on the sales platform, it can celebrate nudism. In short, both cucumbers exist, but the possibility of getting into a perfume may seem attractive. You may be peeled and chopped up, but you have the chance to survive a little longer in olfactory form and you would also get a change of pace, since you will meet companions you would otherwise never have met in your life. All in all there is a win-win situation for the good old snake cucumber.

Refreshingly cool and green is the prelude. In combination with the other top notes of bamboo and lotus leaf, a harmonious picture is created. However, it does not behave as if you are in a bowl of cucumber salad, perhaps that would be a little too profane. In the process the lily of the valley comes to the fore in a flowery and sweetish way and that is somehow strangely interesting, then one is not averse to the smell of the little bell. Freesia and lime blossom remain rather delicate and reserved in the background. In all this accumulation of notes, the cucumber remains the main protagonist and exudes its fresh green character right up to the finish. Musks and woods provide a supporting base, but are not very present themselves. The shelf life is surprisingly good; the Sillage quite tame.
In summary, Cucumber is a clean and fresh product with a gentle aquatic character. Simple and uncomplicated. Cucumber good.

Chanel launched Gabrielle, Hermès Twilly and now Dior follows with Joy. Predominantly well-known young actors present the scents. A target group oriented action in today's time. The market is crying out for fresh, unspent faces and, above all, for their well-heeled followers. Personenkult knows no borders, brand cult also not. The money is spent with full hands, even if none is available. Sharpened elbows. Psychopaths. Heart collapse. Department stores. Social media. Installment purchase and credit. Planned obsolescence. Advertising programme. Burst silicone cushions. Ecotax. Microplasty. To have and to be. Eat or die and feel pleasure!

Joy? For Dior's latest creation, it smells quite flowery. The opening is pleasantly citric and fresh with bergamot and mandarin, whereby the bergamot takes over the main part here. Quite fast the whole matter mutes itself a little and a clean rose appears. Jasmine and musk add a dash of fluffy creaminess. All in all, the fragrance does not develop excessive sweetness, but it remains rather bland and somewhat boring. Patchouli, sandalwood and cedar show their presence with extreme restraint. The shelf life is, like the Sillage, quite manageable.
On the whole, Dior was unable to make a quantum leap with this launch, which was apparently undesirable. Olfactory surprises and experiments usually don't get a large circle of buyers, and so Joy remains only a cultivated appearance without the impulse to arouse exuberant joy.

A few hippies dance barefoot singing along the promenade, in the surrounding park section there is a gothic meeting parallel, slight panic grips me, I extend my walking pace and breathe flat until the next crossroads...I am quite flowery. In principle, everything would already have been said about the fragrance if it weren't for the drive to underpin this impression a little. The opening is cutting and piercing and this remains so for quite a while. At first I didn't look at the pyramid and slowly I realized which fragrance made me uncomfortable...if I may introduce myself?
Dear ladies and gentlemen, friends of the olfactory, olfactory-religious and nose-buttoning, here is my hated friend: Patchouli! He's very constant here, almost screaming at my side... it's almost unbearable. Even the smallest cilia bend in a disturbing way, because they sit on the whole pyramid and are able to kill even the smallest flowers when they blossom. Freesia, rose and jasmine are still there in the beginning, but they pass quickly because they are constantly covered by patchouli. The shelf life is long and the Sillage strong. On the whole, the composition evolves in a woody green, earthy and strangely spicy direction and associates with me rather a walk through damp earth with flowers that are epitome to wither.
Oxfordshire in 1986... good I wasn't there.