Violett
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Violett
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Too late ?
Rostracto is a crook. A bitterly evil, dark rose chypre that certainly doesn't exist a second time.
The fragrance is better suited to Halloween than spring.
So we are late in two respects.
Also here in the fragrance. Because the complete destruction has already taken place.
We find ourselves again in the gloom
of a deep pine forest, in the midst of wild, thorny undergrowth. A place where people generally don't stray. Cold sleet pelting down on long-burnt, black tree skeletons and dark earth. Some pines are still standing. They have withstood the devastating fire. Rostracto is at home here. Smoke from the fire in his tattered clothes Bitter herbs in his pockets. Raw and hard is his life in the depths of the forest.
Sometimes the soft mist of roses wafts from somewhere, a distant memory. A soft glow, immortal in his heart, day and night.
Indifferent.
For it is too late, as I said. The complete destruction has already taken place.
And life goes on.
Rostracto shows us the way into the darkness, a place we would not have sought and found without him. The deepest, darkest forest, in which an irritating rose either slowly struggles to the surface and quietly unfurls its leaves with a dark red shimmer, or at least shyly reveals itself as a
Mirage, a memory of another time, another past life.
The fragrance tells of opposites.
Dark, indifferent, progressing ruin and at the same time the constantly increasing, gentle glow of a glimmer of hope.
Is the impossible happening? Is the once flourishing life returning to this hard, cold, herbaceous world of fragrance?
Depending on the condition of our skin, the fragrance either leaves us in the dark,
or finally gives the rose the space to blossom in this inhospitable place, to go from premonition to reality.
There is certainly no lack of drama and tension in this fragrance.
However, it is also demanding and not very pleasing overall.
I see it as a perfume for the masculine, if not rugged, even broody lone fighter, who nevertheless appreciates a gentle rose scent.
The fragrance is better suited to Halloween than spring.
So we are late in two respects.
Also here in the fragrance. Because the complete destruction has already taken place.
We find ourselves again in the gloom
of a deep pine forest, in the midst of wild, thorny undergrowth. A place where people generally don't stray. Cold sleet pelting down on long-burnt, black tree skeletons and dark earth. Some pines are still standing. They have withstood the devastating fire. Rostracto is at home here. Smoke from the fire in his tattered clothes Bitter herbs in his pockets. Raw and hard is his life in the depths of the forest.
Sometimes the soft mist of roses wafts from somewhere, a distant memory. A soft glow, immortal in his heart, day and night.
Indifferent.
For it is too late, as I said. The complete destruction has already taken place.
And life goes on.
Rostracto shows us the way into the darkness, a place we would not have sought and found without him. The deepest, darkest forest, in which an irritating rose either slowly struggles to the surface and quietly unfurls its leaves with a dark red shimmer, or at least shyly reveals itself as a
Mirage, a memory of another time, another past life.
The fragrance tells of opposites.
Dark, indifferent, progressing ruin and at the same time the constantly increasing, gentle glow of a glimmer of hope.
Is the impossible happening? Is the once flourishing life returning to this hard, cold, herbaceous world of fragrance?
Depending on the condition of our skin, the fragrance either leaves us in the dark,
or finally gives the rose the space to blossom in this inhospitable place, to go from premonition to reality.
There is certainly no lack of drama and tension in this fragrance.
However, it is also demanding and not very pleasing overall.
I see it as a perfume for the masculine, if not rugged, even broody lone fighter, who nevertheless appreciates a gentle rose scent.
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Standing blues on the volcano
I was immediately in love with his looks, yes. But it was the inner values that made me fall in love with him. I wanted him at all costs. And when it arrived, I was so despondent as I crept around it, literally pushing past it, always taking care to avert my eyes from the splendor of the flacon. Worried about the contradictions raging beneath the golden pebble and whether I was up to them, intimidated by the natural energy and self-contained passion of this fragrance.
The dark, smouldering depths, the destruction of fire, hot ashes and embers that eventually turn into dark warmth. And then, soon enough, the world melts into dark chocolate and wraps itself in soft, black velvet.
SHE grows and thrives on this soil in cool, distant beauty. The infamous lover and hated one.
Defies all the laws of nature and bears fresh rosebuds wet with dew on lava that has just solidified. Gradually, the surrounding warmth also takes possession of her.
Pale, uninvolved light pink gradually turns into a softly glowing, pulsating dark red. Dewdrops become rose-red, spicy tears. Then rivulets, finally rivulets of red rose wine on whose shimmering surface thousands of rose petals glide in the dawn.
Dionysus invites us to dance on the volcano.
And I let myself in for it.
And if at first I was afraid to let the scent touch my skin, I suddenly realize with amazement: we seem made for each other, we fit together. We literally merge into one. He withdraws elegantly, I hardly notice him. But when things get tight, he's there. Dark and sensual, sweet and tasty, warm and cuddly. Noble and never too sweet.
Even if this is his time: I don't want to banish him to the night hours. Especially during the day, such a dark companion can provide the necessary spice.
And if you love roses like I do, you should give it a try.
The dark, smouldering depths, the destruction of fire, hot ashes and embers that eventually turn into dark warmth. And then, soon enough, the world melts into dark chocolate and wraps itself in soft, black velvet.
SHE grows and thrives on this soil in cool, distant beauty. The infamous lover and hated one.
Defies all the laws of nature and bears fresh rosebuds wet with dew on lava that has just solidified. Gradually, the surrounding warmth also takes possession of her.
Pale, uninvolved light pink gradually turns into a softly glowing, pulsating dark red. Dewdrops become rose-red, spicy tears. Then rivulets, finally rivulets of red rose wine on whose shimmering surface thousands of rose petals glide in the dawn.
Dionysus invites us to dance on the volcano.
And I let myself in for it.
And if at first I was afraid to let the scent touch my skin, I suddenly realize with amazement: we seem made for each other, we fit together. We literally merge into one. He withdraws elegantly, I hardly notice him. But when things get tight, he's there. Dark and sensual, sweet and tasty, warm and cuddly. Noble and never too sweet.
Even if this is his time: I don't want to banish him to the night hours. Especially during the day, such a dark companion can provide the necessary spice.
And if you love roses like I do, you should give it a try.
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Can't buy me love
"Love for Sale", oh yes. How cool, how endlessly tiring. This boring, stupid "sex-for-sale" scam. Although the idea of love for sale doesn't necessarily appeal to the target group for the fragrance anyway, i.e. the ladies.
At most, perhaps, in that the ladies themselves might like something wicked, forbidden, offensive,
want to smell lascivious, erotic. We women certainly want that from time to time
But perhaps not necessarily in the sense of someone who works hard for a living as a prostitute?
I would prefer the idea of love, in the sense of love that is sold in bottles. That would be something. Spraying love on yourself. Or at least something that definitely has a lot of love in it.
As this is a Bianchi, we are somewhere in between.
The beginning pops like a sweet bubble gum bubble. Bang! And puff, sweet candy floss, pimped with artificial strawberry flavoring. Plus a fat lipstick kiss from orange fruit gum inflatable boat lips. So far, so trashy. And not unpleasant. Actually quite funny. Dirty but pretty leather lounges worn out in the background, together with all Bianchi's mother-wife Iris Butter. I imagine this beginning of the fragrance is not at all inappropriate for the overarching theme of the red-light district. But it doesn't matter at all.
F.B. has probably chosen "The lovers tale" as the base for this fragrance.
A fragrance that I, fans forgive me, find super disgusting. But in the concentration in which it is represented here, I find it beautiful. This soft, no longer quite clean, worn leather in the background is what makes this fragrance attractive and interesting. It gives it warmth and depth. The squeaky sweetness from the beginning transforms into something still very sweet, delicately powdery, which to me almost drifts a bit irrelevantly towards a sweet mainstream fragrance (may you never finally get there, Ms. Bianchi!) And yet. This sweet, very slightly orangy powder is so delicately combined with the hint of the old leather jacket (or tuxedo?) that I somehow like this sweet scent. It is not lovelessly made, yes, when I sniff it now, it almost has something tender about it.
Unfortunately, I think it's still miles away from love for spraying on.
It's too sweet for me at first. In my opinion, too much sweetness kills the other fragrance notes and definitely prevents or reduces tension and depth within a fragrance.
I would like a little more leather and less peach lollipop instead.
As is usual with the perfumer's newer creations, this one doesn't have as much oomph as her older 'fragrance colleagues'. That's a shame, but not a bad thing.
This is probably due to cost reasons, as is so often the case.
Is there a conclusion? No, there is not. To find out to what extent I'm dealing with olfactory 'sinful goings-on', with love, or with Mrs. B.'s economic wishes, considerations and intentions, I'll have to test this fragrance further.
It is pretty and wearable at first sniff. But if you want to buy it now, make an effort! Because as soon as it's here, it's gone again. As this fragrance is/was limited, you have to be damn quick to get your hands on a copy.
For my part, I am sufficiently supplied with 2ml. (With thanks to Lacrimula, who is always sharing exciting fragrances)
At most, perhaps, in that the ladies themselves might like something wicked, forbidden, offensive,
want to smell lascivious, erotic. We women certainly want that from time to time
But perhaps not necessarily in the sense of someone who works hard for a living as a prostitute?
I would prefer the idea of love, in the sense of love that is sold in bottles. That would be something. Spraying love on yourself. Or at least something that definitely has a lot of love in it.
As this is a Bianchi, we are somewhere in between.
The beginning pops like a sweet bubble gum bubble. Bang! And puff, sweet candy floss, pimped with artificial strawberry flavoring. Plus a fat lipstick kiss from orange fruit gum inflatable boat lips. So far, so trashy. And not unpleasant. Actually quite funny. Dirty but pretty leather lounges worn out in the background, together with all Bianchi's mother-wife Iris Butter. I imagine this beginning of the fragrance is not at all inappropriate for the overarching theme of the red-light district. But it doesn't matter at all.
F.B. has probably chosen "The lovers tale" as the base for this fragrance.
A fragrance that I, fans forgive me, find super disgusting. But in the concentration in which it is represented here, I find it beautiful. This soft, no longer quite clean, worn leather in the background is what makes this fragrance attractive and interesting. It gives it warmth and depth. The squeaky sweetness from the beginning transforms into something still very sweet, delicately powdery, which to me almost drifts a bit irrelevantly towards a sweet mainstream fragrance (may you never finally get there, Ms. Bianchi!) And yet. This sweet, very slightly orangy powder is so delicately combined with the hint of the old leather jacket (or tuxedo?) that I somehow like this sweet scent. It is not lovelessly made, yes, when I sniff it now, it almost has something tender about it.
Unfortunately, I think it's still miles away from love for spraying on.
It's too sweet for me at first. In my opinion, too much sweetness kills the other fragrance notes and definitely prevents or reduces tension and depth within a fragrance.
I would like a little more leather and less peach lollipop instead.
As is usual with the perfumer's newer creations, this one doesn't have as much oomph as her older 'fragrance colleagues'. That's a shame, but not a bad thing.
This is probably due to cost reasons, as is so often the case.
Is there a conclusion? No, there is not. To find out to what extent I'm dealing with olfactory 'sinful goings-on', with love, or with Mrs. B.'s economic wishes, considerations and intentions, I'll have to test this fragrance further.
It is pretty and wearable at first sniff. But if you want to buy it now, make an effort! Because as soon as it's here, it's gone again. As this fragrance is/was limited, you have to be damn quick to get your hands on a copy.
For my part, I am sufficiently supplied with 2ml. (With thanks to Lacrimula, who is always sharing exciting fragrances)
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New Year violets
It's the time, between the years, when everyone dutifully gathers around the table, gluttony everywhere
People wear heavy fragrances. People roll around in amber, patch, orange zest to celebrate. Bathing in cloves, cinnamon and animal.swimming on heavy floral swill here. Loll in their madness to the candlelight in ambroxan. They make it pop with sandalwood and honey so that flies faint from the ceiling. Some of them smell, it's hard to believe, like their own Christmas tree. Another smells like it's on fire and wonders why everyone is running. It's the time of year for a break, but there's a big party everywhere. And while corks and firecrackers are still popping, I long for the peace and quiet of the forest.
Where the little violet stands,
very still, and beautifully wafted by its own scent. Surrounded by the most delicate early blossom splendor, (which makes climate change possible.) The trees, still in winter rest, add a wooden touch.
And once again I realize: true beauty can be so simple.
And while the firecrackers are ringing loudly, I want to indulge in purism here. Just a little while longer, here with my little violet.
**
The time of more or less harmonious family gatherings in the country, accompanied by excessive festivities and feasting, will soon come to an end. New Year's Eve is approaching and with it the good resolutions for the next year, which often have something to do with renunciation (and discipline).
So on the hungover first day of the year, let's refresh our awareness of how good a simple glass of cool water (possibly with aspirin) can sometimes be.
This fragrant treasure fits the bill.
A simple, classic violet fragrance, light, fresh, harmonious, which becomes a little sweeter and creamier as it progresses. Quiet, never demanding. Sooo relaxed.
..... out of stock, unfortunately.
Sometimes that's more than enough.
Happy New Year to everyone. Let it rip, or not. And a relaxed start to the new year. :-)))
People wear heavy fragrances. People roll around in amber, patch, orange zest to celebrate. Bathing in cloves, cinnamon and animal.swimming on heavy floral swill here. Loll in their madness to the candlelight in ambroxan. They make it pop with sandalwood and honey so that flies faint from the ceiling. Some of them smell, it's hard to believe, like their own Christmas tree. Another smells like it's on fire and wonders why everyone is running. It's the time of year for a break, but there's a big party everywhere. And while corks and firecrackers are still popping, I long for the peace and quiet of the forest.
Where the little violet stands,
very still, and beautifully wafted by its own scent. Surrounded by the most delicate early blossom splendor, (which makes climate change possible.) The trees, still in winter rest, add a wooden touch.
And once again I realize: true beauty can be so simple.
And while the firecrackers are ringing loudly, I want to indulge in purism here. Just a little while longer, here with my little violet.
**
The time of more or less harmonious family gatherings in the country, accompanied by excessive festivities and feasting, will soon come to an end. New Year's Eve is approaching and with it the good resolutions for the next year, which often have something to do with renunciation (and discipline).
So on the hungover first day of the year, let's refresh our awareness of how good a simple glass of cool water (possibly with aspirin) can sometimes be.
This fragrant treasure fits the bill.
A simple, classic violet fragrance, light, fresh, harmonious, which becomes a little sweeter and creamier as it progresses. Quiet, never demanding. Sooo relaxed.
..... out of stock, unfortunately.
Sometimes that's more than enough.
Happy New Year to everyone. Let it rip, or not. And a relaxed start to the new year. :-)))
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Happy on the ground
I wanted to write something completely original, unprecedented, extremely weird. To offer great cinema.
But the muses don't want to kiss. At least not me. I'm sitting there with hopefully pursed lips - nothing. The ladies are busy elsewhere. Snogging Haruki Murakami again, giggling with Ponticus, or whispering one of their funny stories to Puderperle....whatever. This list could go on for pages.
So be it. These ethereal figures don't go with this earthy fragrance anyway.
Because it quickly brings the "crazy head in the clouds" proverbially back down to earth, or a few centimeters lower. And with a fat load of intense patch. Earth patch,
intimately connected with brother cocoa, but not a musty basement patch.
On the ground, here in the dirt, I don't particularly like it at first and get bored in this earth cave. Just a whiff of tobacco keeps me in place and gives me hope for further development. Fortunately, I soon feel a gentle warmth coming on. More and more orange glow permeates the deep patch of muddy brown.
Orange blossom and tobacco interweave and lend this patch fragrance a soft, woody warmth. Iris, although present here, but rather in quiet modesty, butters along. It ennobles the fragrance with its complexity and attractiveness. Vanilla smiles gently and unsweetly in the background, doing what it does best. Giving peace. A light, spicy sweetness meanders through the action, which is probably due to the acacia blossom.
Patch, however, is and remains the earthy protagonist of this fragrance.
I think the perfume is wonderful. It stands out. Irritates others. And either pleases the other person very much or repels them - or both!
Mokaya definitely has the dirty attractiveness of a Bianchi fragrance. However, unlike Bianchi, it is not primarily about intimate togetherness. It's more about earthy stubbornness, gleefully smudgy and with hints of animalism. Corners and edges, paired with beautiful, unpretentious warmth and friendliness, thanks to the sunny interplay of orange blossom and jasmine, and the cozy liaison of tobacco and vanilla. Iris, the beautiful touches the darkness of the fragrance very softly without taking away its earthiness. Mokaya is dense and intense and lasts an incredibly long time. After many hours, vanilla and tobacco come more and more to the fore, and now, after about 13 hours, the perfume becomes chocolate-vanilla, sweetened with a bit of acacia honey, towards the very close fragrance finale.
I LOVE THIS FRAGRANCE.
Next to "08 Intrigant Patchouli | Pierre Guillaume" my new "heart patch".
What a wonderful, successful natural perfume. What a quality. But that's just TRNP.
So, that's it. Thanks for reading. I can't think of a better ending - still no muse in sight far and wide....
But the muses don't want to kiss. At least not me. I'm sitting there with hopefully pursed lips - nothing. The ladies are busy elsewhere. Snogging Haruki Murakami again, giggling with Ponticus, or whispering one of their funny stories to Puderperle....whatever. This list could go on for pages.
So be it. These ethereal figures don't go with this earthy fragrance anyway.
Because it quickly brings the "crazy head in the clouds" proverbially back down to earth, or a few centimeters lower. And with a fat load of intense patch. Earth patch,
intimately connected with brother cocoa, but not a musty basement patch.
On the ground, here in the dirt, I don't particularly like it at first and get bored in this earth cave. Just a whiff of tobacco keeps me in place and gives me hope for further development. Fortunately, I soon feel a gentle warmth coming on. More and more orange glow permeates the deep patch of muddy brown.
Orange blossom and tobacco interweave and lend this patch fragrance a soft, woody warmth. Iris, although present here, but rather in quiet modesty, butters along. It ennobles the fragrance with its complexity and attractiveness. Vanilla smiles gently and unsweetly in the background, doing what it does best. Giving peace. A light, spicy sweetness meanders through the action, which is probably due to the acacia blossom.
Patch, however, is and remains the earthy protagonist of this fragrance.
I think the perfume is wonderful. It stands out. Irritates others. And either pleases the other person very much or repels them - or both!
Mokaya definitely has the dirty attractiveness of a Bianchi fragrance. However, unlike Bianchi, it is not primarily about intimate togetherness. It's more about earthy stubbornness, gleefully smudgy and with hints of animalism. Corners and edges, paired with beautiful, unpretentious warmth and friendliness, thanks to the sunny interplay of orange blossom and jasmine, and the cozy liaison of tobacco and vanilla. Iris, the beautiful touches the darkness of the fragrance very softly without taking away its earthiness. Mokaya is dense and intense and lasts an incredibly long time. After many hours, vanilla and tobacco come more and more to the fore, and now, after about 13 hours, the perfume becomes chocolate-vanilla, sweetened with a bit of acacia honey, towards the very close fragrance finale.
I LOVE THIS FRAGRANCE.
Next to "08 Intrigant Patchouli | Pierre Guillaume" my new "heart patch".
What a wonderful, successful natural perfume. What a quality. But that's just TRNP.
So, that's it. Thanks for reading. I can't think of a better ending - still no muse in sight far and wide....
39 Comments
