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Blue Monday
It could have been so nice:
Sicilian limes on coarse sea salt, a cooling evening wind from the coast at the end of a shimmering hot day...a dream from the south, drowned in margaritas.
The hope remains alive for a short time after spraying on - one top note more that stimulates the senses and produces an appreciative nod for the creative idea - before the synthetic disappointment quickly and relentlessly pushes itself to the fore. Instead of fresh and harsh summeriness, I sink up to my neck in the horror that, thanks to IFF, is called Iso E Super. At the side of this primary antagonist are a pinch of spice and a handful of aquatics, which of course cannot be accused of its immanent synthetics, but which in this case does not help either.
Heroes rushing to the rescue? I'm afraid not. According to the manufacturer, it should contain three pounds of real fruit. Whether this is relatively much or little, I can't tell right now, but I would have liked to be able to smell at least some of it.
It remains a mixture of Shelter Island, Molecule 01 and AdG Profumo. Not mine.
So dreams burst on Italian Mediterranean islands.
And I already had the right soundtrack for the concept.
Mary Roos sang about the conclusion of the fragrance in her charming kitschy German-language Mas Que Nada version "Blauer Montag" in 1970:
Blue Monday, why did this Sunday have to end?
Why do you go away to a stranger?
And all I have left is the samba.
Sicilian limes on coarse sea salt, a cooling evening wind from the coast at the end of a shimmering hot day...a dream from the south, drowned in margaritas.
The hope remains alive for a short time after spraying on - one top note more that stimulates the senses and produces an appreciative nod for the creative idea - before the synthetic disappointment quickly and relentlessly pushes itself to the fore. Instead of fresh and harsh summeriness, I sink up to my neck in the horror that, thanks to IFF, is called Iso E Super. At the side of this primary antagonist are a pinch of spice and a handful of aquatics, which of course cannot be accused of its immanent synthetics, but which in this case does not help either.
Heroes rushing to the rescue? I'm afraid not. According to the manufacturer, it should contain three pounds of real fruit. Whether this is relatively much or little, I can't tell right now, but I would have liked to be able to smell at least some of it.
It remains a mixture of Shelter Island, Molecule 01 and AdG Profumo. Not mine.
So dreams burst on Italian Mediterranean islands.
And I already had the right soundtrack for the concept.
Mary Roos sang about the conclusion of the fragrance in her charming kitschy German-language Mas Que Nada version "Blauer Montag" in 1970:
Blue Monday, why did this Sunday have to end?
Why do you go away to a stranger?
And all I have left is the samba.
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