Scentimeter

Today I have dedicated some time to three figs.
It's raining, I'm a coward, I stay in the house and pick out three figs because I want to invite one of them to stay in my little closet side dedicated to fragrances. Eieiei: Which side will I take? Which of the three will be mine? No easy decision!
Immediately, three figgy veils inscribe themselves in the sides of my hands.
one: Premier Figuier, three: Figuier Eden. One of the three, after a while, escapes a broad-legged soapy sandalwood-musk-slobbery overtone (Premier Figuier) - its flattering zeal seems richly one-sided to me. Too campy it sucks up to me. No, seems like Figuier #1 is not mine, unfortunately. That leaves 2 sides between which my doubting nose bone can't decide by any means. Both figs appear almost simultaneously, neither lacks vanity: Philosykos celebrates his own fighood immodestly, because he knows: his authenticity remains to be envied - his fig is immensely pure and clearly has nothing to confess: a simple round of his trinity of fig tree branches, accompanied only by quiet peppery whistling: Fig flesh, fig twigs, and paradisiacal green leaf-covering - (forgive here my "ei" writing perhaps slips). Simple and peculiar. Meanwhile, quieter, silkier, more insidious and subtle, the Figuier Eden fig rubs against the mandarin slices, almost stealthily, at the same time tempting the red pepper not to give in, to give legs to the shallow, white-milk moist fig. Both linger a little while, alas, not an eternity. And me? I can't decide...

A simple, warm, a bit melancholic but somehow detached scent, like a day at the beginning of autumn when it's so crisp for the first time that you put on something warm and become aware of the hinges of the year. Like a day when you wear a leather jacket for the first time again, and get a little fancy, but not so fancy that you're still taken seriously despite all the pesky patriarchal attributions attached to femininity. Somehow all the images I can think of for this fragrance are about shuttering; delicacy in leather jackets, warm clothing wraps that protect from the fresh cool air. For me the fragrance can do both, delicate and serious, melancholic and tidy, warm and fresh, feminine and whatever!

After I have already tested Thé pour un été yesterday, I wanted to continue today directly with the tea scents, because I have found a great pleasure in it. Thanks to BleuDQ! I have to say that I really like the hesperidic notes in both perfumes because they're tart and spicy, more like the peel than the flesh, and also not kind of overbearing tangy or anything. The spice is definitely also much more pronounced in Wulong Chá than in Thé pour un Été, but still subtle, delicate, not scalding or pungent. I also smell the soft fig flesh from somewhere, the nutmeg is clearly discernible, both notes wafting around the tea notes and warming the scent immensely on the skin. Still, the tart hesperidic, somehow also green-stemmed (no idea where that comes from, or I'm just imagining it) balances that warmth on the skin and still make the scent feel refreshing. Just like tea can warm you up and at the same time have a cooling effect, clear your mind and make you awake, this perfume has the same effect on me (probably just because the teen notes are so well hit, it's obvious that you associate the same things with it)

For me, Myths smells self-confident, grown-up and, despite all its clarity, a bit mysterious - without seeming pretentious. Not necessarily mythical or transfigured, but rather auratic; that is, without detaching itself from real objects, like the light on those late afternoons when everything seems to be bathed in heavy, golden light like pears in brandy. I spray the scent into the crook of my elbow and I'm overcome by a melancholy that somehow outgrows itself, that is at once light and heavy, never quite letting itself go, but sometimes hiding in silliness. A relatively spicy, yellow, yet pleasant scent spectrum quickly forms on my skin despite its lack of pleasantness. I feel a bit costumed in this scent, olfactorily overdressed, but pleased for an evening in my invisible costume. I'm sure; it would be made of golden yellow brocade

My first association is sahlep, sweet semolina porridge with orange blossom water. Maybe also a little cardamom. A bit cliché perhaps, but from semolina to fine, soft sand it is then also not far. Nor from the floral water to the light dress, which is not meant to warm, but to protect from the sun. The scent is not nearly as heavy and sweet as I expected - rather creamy light, kind of bleached out to match the name, I would describe it as pleasant but also quite a bit boring (though I also have a cold and maybe my nose shouldn't be trusted too much in that regard right now, so I won't presume to judge the silage). With this fragrance, you're probably not so much spraying on a personality as a feeling that has no pretensions to uniqueness: it's similarly unoriginal yet beautiful as a phrase like "I love you". (Not that I would say that to this fragrance, don't get me wrong, I'm not in love with it by any means. I do find him a little endearing, though. Kind of!)
Once vanilla and tonka get mixed in, I'm back to mush and it does get sweeter. Also goes well with Sahlep, whose sugar content must somehow be slightly above the pain threshold, and from the second half of the glass the sweetness always scratches in my throat.
On me, this fragrance does not seem particularly complex, rather comforting, friendly and simple. Soulfood just :>

(Many thanks to Nurmalso for the sample!)