Xanadu Angela Flanders Eau de Toilette

The poor citrus fruit doesn't have much joy here. It can't breathe, is immediately under-seasoned. Paprika powder from the shaker, cumin, coriander (the seeds), nutmeg, anise or fennel, rather anise. I can hardly write fast enough. Moreover, a portion of tea-like stinky geranium presses from below. I almost wrote something about ham again, this time a particularly tender one.

However, the combination ultimately feels less oppressive than initially feared. The base does what it does best and should do: be a base. The cumin is metallic and at best on the edge of being sweaty. Together with the hint of anise, it seems almost fresh for a while, though the freshness has nothing to do with the mentioned citrus fruits in the top note.

This opening is far from the spice-grumpy introduction of "Vetivert" from the same house. Xanadu at least feels comparatively airy and relaxed. If it is supposed to refer to an enchanted forest - see accompanying text - then it is not a Tolkien-esque dark forest. Certainly not one through which the high elves stroll, because undoubtedly, Xanadu is characteristically a strong scent that also adds quite a bit.

Perhaps we should forget the forest. Already during the first hour, I gradually think of an ancient ebony cabinet in which spices are stored. And it gets even more bitter. Gasoline? No, resinous - more like varnish. Ancient pictures and furniture. I return to the cabinet and remain loyal to it for the coming hours. Around noon, the Xanadu wood even brushes against mustiness. I have definitively crossed off the forest. Schopenhauer's study room could have had an aura like Xanadu.

Only in the early afternoon does a touch of sweetness (vanilla) coax the long-thought-defeated companions of the wood back out of their reserves a bit. A small pinch of spice, a hint of resin, and the aforementioned sweetness ensure that it becomes quite warm and rounded for a while. However, this is only a phase; as the afternoon progresses, the wood prevails, eventually flattens out, and the mentions for the base become increasingly plausible; apart from the patchouli, I notice nothing of it. After seven or eight hours, the scent is practically over.

Conclusion: It is a bit melancholic overall. Nevertheless, on balance, it is a beautiful, dark wood scent. I cannot understand the previously lonely, atrociously bad rating.