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Unfunny!
To say in advance: I am a fan of dry and woody scents. I am fascinated by these because they bring back memories of outdoor experiences for me.
However, if I get into this Bentley, then I remain somewhat perplexed. Boozy? Check! Woody? Check! Leather? Check!
But world, sorry: somehow the overall concept does not grab me. The entry is promising with a good shot of rum and inklings of the wooden barrels in which it was stored. But asbald already, this fragrance but becomes quite monosyllabic.
It then prevails a rather humorless and quite striking show of supposedly masculine attributes. Jaja, the leather jacket, whose owner eindieselt with this water, is well advised. Exactly the same was my thought. In my head came Komissar Schimanski, who stands lost in thought on the Duisburg quay wall and has a tricky case to solve.
And that's probably the problem: The fragrance reminds me of the 80s, of times long past, when incense notes combined with leather were still considered exotic. They join quite quickly and exude a vibe that seems too deliberate for my nose.
Rum, wood, leather, incense: and that in a combination that allows neither fruit nor other gimmicks? Reduce to the max, it was called yes once.
Reduced for me, however, also the fun. And Komissar Schimanski, with his show worn contrition, I never wanted to be. I like dry fragrances, I like dry humor, but the one or other Spritzerchen frivolous fruitiness may still be.
I, in any case, leave the Schimanski in his sweetened Ruhrpott-Romantik now stand alone and take off the antlered leather jacket.
Conclusion: Almost boring.
However, if I get into this Bentley, then I remain somewhat perplexed. Boozy? Check! Woody? Check! Leather? Check!
But world, sorry: somehow the overall concept does not grab me. The entry is promising with a good shot of rum and inklings of the wooden barrels in which it was stored. But asbald already, this fragrance but becomes quite monosyllabic.
It then prevails a rather humorless and quite striking show of supposedly masculine attributes. Jaja, the leather jacket, whose owner eindieselt with this water, is well advised. Exactly the same was my thought. In my head came Komissar Schimanski, who stands lost in thought on the Duisburg quay wall and has a tricky case to solve.
And that's probably the problem: The fragrance reminds me of the 80s, of times long past, when incense notes combined with leather were still considered exotic. They join quite quickly and exude a vibe that seems too deliberate for my nose.
Rum, wood, leather, incense: and that in a combination that allows neither fruit nor other gimmicks? Reduce to the max, it was called yes once.
Reduced for me, however, also the fun. And Komissar Schimanski, with his show worn contrition, I never wanted to be. I like dry fragrances, I like dry humor, but the one or other Spritzerchen frivolous fruitiness may still be.
I, in any case, leave the Schimanski in his sweetened Ruhrpott-Romantik now stand alone and take off the antlered leather jacket.
Conclusion: Almost boring.
1 Comment
Purim
