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Cheese Cauldron and Pediatrician Memory
In the sixth volume of the Harry Potter heptalogy, Albus Dumbledore emphasizes the fact that he will be entering the realm of speculation with the words: “From here on, I could be just as miserably wrong as Humphrey Belcher, who believed the time was ripe for a cheese cauldron.”
Even for us Muggles (= non-magicians), the nonsensical extravagance of a cheese cauldron is immediately apparent. In contrast, there are good reasons to argue that the time was ripe for an Oud Cologne. Perhaps less serious and weighty, fresher and lighter than usual, universally applicable, moderate sillage, and finally possibly manageable longevity that carries you solidly through the workday but leaves room for something new afterward.
Some of this list can be served by the fragrance with the unassuming name prefix.
The fruity opening - sharper and more lemony than the specified mandarin alone suggests - is hardly worth further mention, as it quickly dissipates. In its wake, a hint of oud-woodiness has already wafted in. Aha, we are dealing with an oud variant from the wood corner; this seems reasonable in context. Additionally, a vanillic sweetness can be felt, whose significance steadily increases as time goes on. The very restrained sillage is particularly noticeable.
The so-called myrrh is so soft and sweet that I would have at least had a proper nibble without any announcement. My first thought was “sweet children’s cough syrup” or some sugary-nutty stuff. Alongside that - *snap, snap* - a vague idea; and as it goes with old memories, the considerations roll back and forth for a long time until suddenly the thought strikes: sugar cube vaccination! This liquid drizzled onto a piece of sugar. Decades ago - whether that fits perfectly must remain open.
Throughout the morning, our Grand Cru develops into a sugary-vanillic-woody scent and remains very close to the skin. There, it undoubtedly has presence. By noon, I smell mild, vanillated resin. I can fundamentally understand the previously mentioned closeness to Ambre Sultan, although I personally prefer a general comparison with numerous other amber-vanilla fragrances. What may set today’s candidate apart is its pleasantly non-penetrating nature. The subtle wood note in the background ensures that a certain lightness remains throughout.
During the afternoon, the wood character shifts into a robustly bitter direction. A checkmark can again be placed behind the corresponding oud, as it certainly fits no worse than elsewhere. We thus diagnose a sugary-vanillic-ambered part and - contrasted against it - a dark-bitter counterbalance.
Conclusion: Little to nothing of what one usually imagines under a Cologne can be noticed. The designation as a “normal” scent (as well as the omission of the term “Grand Cru”) would have sufficed. However, the subtle appearance fits the approach. A quiet, oudh-like wood-vanilla-amber scent.
I thank MisterE for the sample.
Even for us Muggles (= non-magicians), the nonsensical extravagance of a cheese cauldron is immediately apparent. In contrast, there are good reasons to argue that the time was ripe for an Oud Cologne. Perhaps less serious and weighty, fresher and lighter than usual, universally applicable, moderate sillage, and finally possibly manageable longevity that carries you solidly through the workday but leaves room for something new afterward.
Some of this list can be served by the fragrance with the unassuming name prefix.
The fruity opening - sharper and more lemony than the specified mandarin alone suggests - is hardly worth further mention, as it quickly dissipates. In its wake, a hint of oud-woodiness has already wafted in. Aha, we are dealing with an oud variant from the wood corner; this seems reasonable in context. Additionally, a vanillic sweetness can be felt, whose significance steadily increases as time goes on. The very restrained sillage is particularly noticeable.
The so-called myrrh is so soft and sweet that I would have at least had a proper nibble without any announcement. My first thought was “sweet children’s cough syrup” or some sugary-nutty stuff. Alongside that - *snap, snap* - a vague idea; and as it goes with old memories, the considerations roll back and forth for a long time until suddenly the thought strikes: sugar cube vaccination! This liquid drizzled onto a piece of sugar. Decades ago - whether that fits perfectly must remain open.
Throughout the morning, our Grand Cru develops into a sugary-vanillic-woody scent and remains very close to the skin. There, it undoubtedly has presence. By noon, I smell mild, vanillated resin. I can fundamentally understand the previously mentioned closeness to Ambre Sultan, although I personally prefer a general comparison with numerous other amber-vanilla fragrances. What may set today’s candidate apart is its pleasantly non-penetrating nature. The subtle wood note in the background ensures that a certain lightness remains throughout.
During the afternoon, the wood character shifts into a robustly bitter direction. A checkmark can again be placed behind the corresponding oud, as it certainly fits no worse than elsewhere. We thus diagnose a sugary-vanillic-ambered part and - contrasted against it - a dark-bitter counterbalance.
Conclusion: Little to nothing of what one usually imagines under a Cologne can be noticed. The designation as a “normal” scent (as well as the omission of the term “Grand Cru”) would have sufficed. However, the subtle appearance fits the approach. A quiet, oudh-like wood-vanilla-amber scent.
I thank MisterE for the sample.
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16 Comments
That reminds me of how the floor wax smelled in the hallways... it also had a bit of a medicinal/cough syrup vibe...