Shamis

Let me translate: with me you are beautiful. And may it also be meant that you find someone beautiful - I sometimes find this expression wonderfully apt. I always have to think of people (and animals) who can only fully develop, even blossom, in the right company. And it is also absolutely true for "1902 - Lavande": with me he is beautiful!

I have to take up arms for this cuddly little lavender scent, about which I curiously read everything before receiving it. Apparently he could not really win over anyone (and surprisingly, I can confirm some of the scent impressions). It begins with a harsh herbaceous lavender drone towards "ancient lavender", which, however, fades away quite quickly in my case. Afterwards he shows me his dreamy soft heart of vanilla and a little bit powdery. Very gentle and calming. Very sweet and cuddly. From now on he reminds me a little bit of "Eau de Lingerie" (yes, lavande is also suitable for lingerie) and "Muse Poudree"; "Muse Poudree" is stronger and sweeter. I generally like this powdery soft fragrance very much.

Nothing really happens anymore; after the first lavender exuberance the scent remains unspectacular. But sometimes I need something like that: just relax and let the scent enchant you a little. How nice that he found his way to me and once again a big thank you to the donor). I think we fit together: with me you smell nice!

In 1983 the Munich City Museum hosted the photo exhibition "Grün kaputt" (Green kaput). In the accompanying book, titled "Koniferenland" (Conifer Land), it was vividly described in words that get under your skin what we do to our gardens: on one side of the fence desert poisoned with a lot of time and money - on the other side it blooms colourfully at the roadside...

Exactly this image of the blooming roadside, of herbs and wild flowers and much too high grass awakes the perfume "Salvia" in me. But not from the very beginning: when spraying it on, I always have to think alternately of alpine meadows and seven-herb shampoo - which I like, but doesn't stay as a fragrance impression for long. What follows is the memory of summer walks, past meadows and fields, along the river. To the left and right of me it is blooming and green, a light breeze comes up and blows a scent into my nose.
With this hint of scent, it stays. And that is at the same time unbelievably fitting and yet in my opinion the biggest shortcoming. A similarly fragile fragrance is already in my collection: "Hermessence Osmanthe Yunnan". A wonderful scent, which I unfortunately only notice for a short time when spraying it on... I find that a pity. A little longer I can sniff "Salvia" on me, but also only directly on the skin.

I cannot smell the eponymous sage in my little fragrance. It seems more like a potpourri of different herbs and meadow flowers. That's a good thing, because sage is not necessarily my favourite fragrance: since I harvested quite a lot of it in the garden a few years ago and hung it up to dry in the kitchen, I find it rather unpleasant and sweaty, at least from a certain fragrance intensity. Since "Salvia" also has some other fragrances in addition to sage, I consider the name here to be rather indicative (in the sense of a medicinal herb scent)

And yet: should the road take me once again (ideally in summer) to Cologne and possibly even to a certain perfumery - I would like to spray myself from head to toe with "Salvia". I would leave the perfumery, eat something good in one of the beautiful breweries, drink a cool Kölsch and let the scent take effect on me. I might weaken after all... After all, he is my absolute favourite from the small row.
Not everyone likes natural gardens. Not everybody likes "salvia." I do - both of them.

A few years ago I was allowed to take part in a weekend seminar of the Weleda company: it went through their entire range of anthroposophical medicines and our brains soon began to glow with so much input. In order to save us participants from the total overstimulation, however, a few moments of relaxation were built in - a mutual hand massage, stomping our feet and at the same time clapping our hands in a completely different rhythm, and also a - so I guess - guided meditation in which we should close our eyes and imagine that we are a tree.

I haven't thought about this meditation exercise since, until - yes, until I sprayed Tilia. While I was still a birch tree in my thoughts at the time, the scent of Tilia was soon clear:
I'm a limey!
All the way... However, the start is (just like the meditation) still a bit uneven. A little dull, maybe because of the coriander, and as if the individual (scented) building blocks still have to be found. But then it becomes very "real". I not only smell linden, no, I feel like a linden tree. Or are they rather impressions of a linden tree? First it becomes sweet like linden blossoms, linden blossom honey, linden blossom tea. Then it becomes fresher and more airy; before my mind's eye I see fresh green linden leaves, swaying in the spring wind. In between a hay note is added, as if the flowers and leaves had dried up a little in the high summer sun...

For me, "Tilia" is an extremely multi-faceted linden scent that is not limited to the typical linden blossom, no, it involves the whole tree. But as successful as I find the reproduction of a lime tree here - it will not be part of my collection. Reason: on the one hand, three (!) lime blossom scents have already crept into my collection, and this although I am not a real fan of this scent. But above all, my clear favourite of the small series is "Salvia", which I find simply wonderful with its alpine herbal note

That's what happens when you have to stick your nose in everything out of curiosity: first in Taurus' raffle thread (and don't say he didn't warn us participants!). Then, after I was lucky enough to win the raffle and the bottle found its way to me remarkably quickly, into the fragrance... "Curiosity Killed the Cat" was promtly the first thing that came to my mind while sniffing. But don't worry, dear cat- and perfume-friends: at least in the english version there is a second part to this saying, which gives a very positive twist to the whole thing and is called rough by me at the end ;-)

The positive first: nobody has to stay long with this test candidate - you can virtually spray it on and then turn directly to the next better test scent! The probability that he or she will make it onto the wish list is rather low and even if so: it is not expensive. In this respect, it is safe to test it out. I find the fragrances particularly creative. After all, there are three of them (not everyone can do that either) and all of them are more or less freely invented. This gives hope that the name of the fragrance also has a loose connection to reality. I don't know exactly, because I haven't visited or sniffed Russian forests yet.

About the fragrance itself: it immediately reminded me of a cheap, vaguely sweet hair tonic, which, as I recall, would have fitted the seventies quite well. I could also imagine a shower gel from the low-price segment, where there was no agreement on whether the fragrance should be "masculine striking", "excitingly aquatic" or rather "sensually sweet". Then just a little bit of everything and let the customer decide for himself what to make of it... It doesn't really matter, because the durability - we keep our promises! - is moderate from a colognes point of view. At 1,99 Euro for 85ml you can of course often and generously add more:)

Conclusion: an almost exceptionally ordinary fragrance, but thanks to its short shelf life it is not annoying, does not cause me nausea and is not overpriced. The scent "synthetic-green" can be let pass with a lot of good will, whereby the emphasis must of course be on "synthetic". To the question of all questions "Is that perfume or can that go away?" I would answer:
1. no idea
2. yeah, that can go!
So quickly a sample for a brave forum friend filled and then the bottle may wander on to a dear forum friend - who, just like me at the raffle, shouted "HERE!

Despite everything - it was fun! The raffle, the waiting for the surprise flacon, the commenting and last but not least the lightning-fast passing on of the black peter. And in this sense I end my commentary with part two of the proverb:
"Curiosity Killed the Cat,
but satisfaction brought it back."

"Older house for sale, cheap, in need of renovation!" - that's what the ad said that led her here. Attracted by the low price, they now stand in front of the crooked box, look hand in hand at the feral lawn and the dirty white "for sale" sign. Yes, the grey monster of a house seems more than in need of renovation, but at first glance they have lost their hearts to it and to each other. And so the young luck rolls up its sleeves and throws itself not only into debt, but above all into work...

A few weeks later: the formalities have been completed, the proud new owners have moved in, the craftsmen have not been ordered for cost reasons. You work yourself, soak the thick layers of old wallpaper with lots of water, scratch them off the walls with difficulty and mix buckets of paste for the cheap but pretty new wallpapers. A time of effort and effort, but also of hope, anticipation and shared happiness. What could be more beautiful than the creation of one's own home? If it gets too tedious, you go into the cellar for a while and browse through boxes of old books and papers.

Paperback smells exactly the same for me: like a little musty soaked wallpaper and paste. I like this smell because I associate it with the on the one hand exhausting, on the other hand euphoric and hopeful time of a renovation. The paste illusion was so successful that about an hour after I sprayed it on, I passed the room where I sprayed it on and asked myself for a moment: why does it smell like wallpapering? A bit of paperback may also be included, but certainly not hot off the press. On the contrary, it has already drawn moisture several times.

And yet: "paperback" is not a perfume in the true sense of the word for me. I like the smell of renovation when it's in the air, but I don't necessarily want to smell of it myself. For this reason, I do not wish to be evaluated. But the "paperback" test was definitely an exciting scent experience