Tomo87

I come from the depths of the Ruhr area, where perfume culture was traditionally still written small. One could think that the overloaded powerhouse fragrances of the 80s still formed the heyday here. There, where people didn't work but "malocht" and didn't play football but "bolzt" and a classic-animal male type ruled, just the word "perfume" (in correct French pronunciation) raised eyebrows. The only chance to wear a fragrance and escape homophobic quips was to reach for the category: musk, steel beams, and the back row of the spice rack.

How fortunate that times have changed. Today, everyone can wear anything, regardless of marketing direction. And that's a good thing!

Lamar, to me, is the modern definition of a powerhouse. The opening is a fruity explosion that is second to none. It immediately shines a few rays of sunshine through our much loved coal dust darkened sky and projects with power the smell of onions from the colliery estate. In the drydown, I imagine I smell real rose (considerably darker and "dirtier" than the stereotypical idea of rose scent), which harmonizes perfectly with the saffron. These simply do not want to leave one and float an eternity over the noble parquet of the base.

So, I will now treat myself to my Powerhouse 2.0 and with undershirt to the barbell in the former coal cellar. Earlier was somehow much worse...