Sweetscent

Breath Of God is an addictive, complex, dazzling scent that tells endless stories.
He lives from his contrasts, which develop such an exciting dynamic in themselves, that he always remains interesting and multi-layered from the beginning to his (very late) end.

It starts with a menthol-like ethereal freshness, contrasted with a woody smokiness that is demanding and nischig, but never scratchy or exhausting. Combined with an unsweet exotic fruit note, this creates a fascinating, multifaceted, iridescent picture.
From the middle BoG becomes much softer and ends in a seemingly endless fadeout on soft, subtle sandalwood. This end is almost the most beautiful of this great fragrance, it remains present like a fine veil until one can no longer distinguish between memory and reality, as if one glides on an infinite slide further and further into space.

If you want head cinema, an overgrown Far Eastern temple peels out in the rainforest, cold ashes and wild fruits. Mystical, archaic, colored, smoky, fresh.
A trip to Tibet finally inspired Simon Constantine.

A lot has already been written about the Lush brand in the comments, I can't underline the praise enough - until recently I also had the image of a hipster bath bomb shop in my head and was all the more enthusiastic about its fragrances, as well as about the rest of their range.
Straight BoG is extremely courageous, could be e.g. also of Bertrand Duchaufour and is so completely not at all Mainstream and nevertheless not pretentious or strenuous.
May this breath not run out so quickly.

The combination of fruit and blossom aromas, so incredibly inflationary and vehemently praised as supposedly archetypal and feminine, has not only established itself as a genre in the perfume world in the "ladies mainstream", has not only become a blueprint, but it almost seems as if the creative directors of the big houses considered it absolutely indispensable in a perfume.
An abstract olfactory idea has been consolidated for fruits and flowers alike, which has cut out all bitter, bitter, sultry, acidic aspects from nature and leaves behind a smooth, unresisting complacency
Combined with an arbitrary degree of sweetness, there are a few adjusting screws that are turned, very carefully though, to produce small variations of the same idea over and over again, which thus becomes flatter and more faceless overall.

Fleur d'Osmanthus now lives in the same genre and doesn't even boldly turn one of the screws to free himself and still succeeds much better.
There is a tangy, almost effervescent prelude, which does not cry and does not use violence.
There are fruits and flowers, only little sweetness, but a slight acidity. Stimulated rippling.
Afterwards one withdraws quickly again and remains on a pleasantly dimmed level with rather green vegetable speckles until the imperceptible fade out. No big fuss, no ambitions. So wonderful.

Then you have a look at what it should cost and maybe you should avoid asking yourself too many questions about this business.

The idea of the smell of water, clear lines and calm, minimalism, rock gardens.
Zen or what was left of it. The Great Nippon 1994, Orientalism 2.0.

No time to breathe deeply, however, after spraying on: like glistening neon light, the aroma chemicals, which are now well known from various household products, jump into your face. Very briefly there is some citrus fruit, Yuzu for my sake, then the molecules, all of which at some point shortly after their creation have received the stamp of "freshness" from their creators, push forward and rather violently. It smells like a new station wagon, professional cleaning, room scenting, ironed shirt and cleaned hands. The relevant musk derivatives meet ambroxan and muscate/peppery spices and remain arrested for hours in their piercing urgency.
With the abstraction to the water thought there was perhaps irony in the game, who knows, but I rather think about laser beams.
The supposed overdosage of certain fragrances has always been an important stylistic device (think of No.5, Cool Water, TdH etc...), for which one can/must give artistic recognition, but I don't necessarily want to be permanently exposed to this representative, although I don't want to deny his importance and the idea of laser beams and digital crystal worlds would be an attractive associative alternative.

P.S.: If you still don't want to do without Yuzu with harsh aquatics in summer, we recommend "Note de Yuzu" as a test tip.

I'd like a bottle.

No, a barrel!

Oh, you know what, I'm gonna take a bath in it!

Let me swim in a sea of green oranges.
I want to go down in an ocean of dark green shimmering juiciness.
Noble woods will rise from the depths and they will carry me and weigh me safely until I am washed to the shores of a distant land, to the beach of an island where it is always summer.
Endless orange groves and cool shady oak moss under a large and eternally blue sky.

I will certainly not ask any more questions and will certainly not eat any more apples. Only oranges.

I'd like a bottle like that.

"The sky above the port was the color of a television set on a dead channel."
William Gibson, neuromancer, 1984. Cyberpunk the first; console cowboys wander through the neon-lit street canyons of Night City, the rain falls, in Sprawl everyone is next to themselves.

Gris Clair, a fragrance from cyberspace. Grey lavender, digital austerity, a wistfully beautiful aura. The sweetness is hard on the border, painful and pleasurable.
Texture and feel are dusty and dry. Even if the sweet spiciness might suggest warmth, the surface remains hard and impenetrable. An incense veil floats through the picture, one could probably speak of a simulacrum, but these categories would be the wrong ones anyway. Lavender or the idea of lavender? All in all, everything remains intangible, the perfume is from beginning to end a homogeneous, densely woven space without the recognizably separated juxtaposition of possible notes.
Clear, calm and unapproachable, it floats around and yet its sweetness has that siren-like pulling effect that lets you plug into the consensus hallucination of the Matrix again and again. The bodiless pleasures of cyberspace. A good fragrance.

"Cold steel smell. Ice was hugging his spine. And faces peered in from a neon forest, sailors and crooks and whores under a poisonous silver sky..."