Parco Palladiano IV: Azalea Bottega Veneta 2016

Sprayed on - Bam - Time jump: Vienna, 8th district, Josefstadt, year 2005, inn "Zum narrischen Kastanienbaum", courtyard, on the plate "Wiener Wäschermädel" (for non-Viennese: a delicious pastry temptation with apricots - uh, I mean apricots), above us the mad chestnut tree spreads its old branches. It is in full bloom and the honey-sweet scent with a slight bitterness lays like a fragrant blanket over the garden.
This is how "Azalea" begins for me. Not with the namesake azalea, which joins later and then defines the scent experience, but with sweet chestnut blossom, honey, and vanilla included. Those who know chestnut honey or the wonderful lush scent of the chestnut blossom will also detect the characteristic slightly bitter-herb undertone here. I love it, though my children rejected it for a long time - they simply demanded "real" honey. At this stage of the fragrance, "Monte Bianco," which Floramalia describes in her comment as beautifully appetizing, cannot be overlooked. For me, it is actually THE nightmare par excellence. Much of what I fear and avoid in fragrances is combined here: honey, vanilla, sweetness, and creamy, rich creaminess. Therefore, I can also understand Caligari's statement that the fragrance did not really convince him.
That would have been it for me and "Azalea," if it weren't for, yes, if it weren't for another component that would come into play. The bloom of the azalea. We lived in the USA for some time, and there was the "National Arboretum," a landscape garden divided into thematic areas, including a "Holly Park" - made up of various types of holly, and also the "Azalea Valley." When we first visited the arboretum, we made fun of the names on our way there, following the motto: The Americans really know how to blow their own horn: Park, Valley - how big can it really be? Well, several hours later we knew: gigantically big!
In this azalea garden, I experienced for the first time in my life an azalea bloom that developed a scent in the humid-warm climate that hung like a bell over the valley. I could not get enough of the fine, delicately sweet natural scent, and during that and all subsequent years there, the arboretum during azalea bloom was an absolute must. Currently, I live in a small town that also has a wonderful old landscape park. When the linden trees bloom, I ride long rounds alone on my bike, but when azaleas and rhododendrons are in full bloom, my three men must join me - the desire to share and enjoy this natural spectacle with them is too great.

In Bottega Veneta's "Azalea," the vanilla sweetness of the beginning gradually retreats and makes way for the scent of the azaleas. It becomes more transparent and translucent, developing into a delicately romantic floral scent of astonishing longevity. It envelops me like a web, woven from the dust threads of the azaleas. It lingers with me for a long time until it dissolves with a final melancholic sigh and fades away. Only a hint of bloom remains, a whisper of vanilla.

Among the perfumes I use, there are not many scents of this kind. Normally, I prefer perfumes with structure and profile, with a more exciting development and edges and corners.
The exceptions "La Chasse aux Papillons," my linden blossom wonder, and "Azalea" are both scents that touch me because they evoke memories that are deeply emotional and personal. Memories of past times, places, and people in my life, but at the same time they carry the promise that everything in life has its time - and that the linden trees, the chestnuts, and the azaleas will bloom for us again next year.