Vanilla
Musk
Rose
Ambrette
Bergamot
Meggi
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Meggi
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28
Will my son get along with this three-layer dessert?
A bowl is filled as follows: frozen raspberries go at the bottom, followed by a layer of crumbled meringue. On top, a blanket of whipped cream. Voilà, a quick, fresh three-layer dessert that can sit outside for a good while without warming up, thanks to the cold raspberries.
The association is, of course, no coincidence: a sugary-sweet note opens - just like from meringue. Accompanied by a sharp-sour fruit. Five minutes later, I could mistake this for rose; there are plenty of fruity varieties that bring along something candy-like. After a quarter of an hour, I think of a vanilla-flavored fruit candy on a sugary, creamy base.
This is quite successful, a simple yet appealing gourmand. It seems to boil down to the question of how long it lasts without tipping into vanilla mush. Or smelling like sticky guaiac wood cream. Or developing Campino intensity. Or, or, or... We shall see.
The rather static scent allows enough time to consider that instead of meringue, cotton candy could also serve as a reference. I smell sugary amber or let’s say sugary-ambered vanilla. I also enjoy a (cream-free!) hint of a guaiac smokiness, which, alongside the splash of acidity, is enormously helpful as a second counterweight to the sweetness. The mixture still feels relatively fluffy. Ziiiiiiieeeeehh!
In the following hours, a portion of meringue or cotton candy is cheerfully dispensed one after another. Nice that each one is pink, with a bit of fruit candy aroma in it. Still, unfortunately, it becomes too much for me now. This is not really due to the scent, which actually holds up well, fundamentally hasn’t changed seriously, apart from the fact that it is now served on a gentle musk cream. Only my degree of saturation has changed. Parisienne is simply suitable only for true scent sweet tooths.
By noon, the musk base gradually becomes more noticeable, without ever pushing to the forefront. Until deep into the afternoon, Parisienne maintains a kind of relative composure of tentative lightness. No vanilla mush, no cream, no penetrating candy. In the end, after about eight hours, a half-waxy, half-dusty amber note reveals why it remained somewhat airy throughout. Such notes often become dominant, but not here. That deserves a commendable mention.
And what does my son have to do with this? He chose the sample himself at the Angela Flanders shop in London. At first, he hesitated, but he was kindly encouraged: by the seller in the matter, by dad in the language. Finally, he expressed a wish for “something with vanilla.” He was given “Parchment” and “Parisienne.” I doubt he will be happy with them as a perfume - his favorite scent is the fresh “Whitehall” by Hugh Parsons. But he enjoys smelling the vanilla things. Of course, for nine-year-olds, desserts, cotton candy, etc. are always a hit.
The association is, of course, no coincidence: a sugary-sweet note opens - just like from meringue. Accompanied by a sharp-sour fruit. Five minutes later, I could mistake this for rose; there are plenty of fruity varieties that bring along something candy-like. After a quarter of an hour, I think of a vanilla-flavored fruit candy on a sugary, creamy base.
This is quite successful, a simple yet appealing gourmand. It seems to boil down to the question of how long it lasts without tipping into vanilla mush. Or smelling like sticky guaiac wood cream. Or developing Campino intensity. Or, or, or... We shall see.
The rather static scent allows enough time to consider that instead of meringue, cotton candy could also serve as a reference. I smell sugary amber or let’s say sugary-ambered vanilla. I also enjoy a (cream-free!) hint of a guaiac smokiness, which, alongside the splash of acidity, is enormously helpful as a second counterweight to the sweetness. The mixture still feels relatively fluffy. Ziiiiiiieeeeehh!
In the following hours, a portion of meringue or cotton candy is cheerfully dispensed one after another. Nice that each one is pink, with a bit of fruit candy aroma in it. Still, unfortunately, it becomes too much for me now. This is not really due to the scent, which actually holds up well, fundamentally hasn’t changed seriously, apart from the fact that it is now served on a gentle musk cream. Only my degree of saturation has changed. Parisienne is simply suitable only for true scent sweet tooths.
By noon, the musk base gradually becomes more noticeable, without ever pushing to the forefront. Until deep into the afternoon, Parisienne maintains a kind of relative composure of tentative lightness. No vanilla mush, no cream, no penetrating candy. In the end, after about eight hours, a half-waxy, half-dusty amber note reveals why it remained somewhat airy throughout. Such notes often become dominant, but not here. That deserves a commendable mention.
And what does my son have to do with this? He chose the sample himself at the Angela Flanders shop in London. At first, he hesitated, but he was kindly encouraged: by the seller in the matter, by dad in the language. Finally, he expressed a wish for “something with vanilla.” He was given “Parchment” and “Parisienne.” I doubt he will be happy with them as a perfume - his favorite scent is the fresh “Whitehall” by Hugh Parsons. But he enjoys smelling the vanilla things. Of course, for nine-year-olds, desserts, cotton candy, etc. are always a hit.
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Ergoproxy
Yatagan
