I went far too long without testing any new fragrances, far too long working every day in my new, admittedly time- and energy-consuming job, and yesterday I realized:
I MISS MY HOBBY! Damn!
My nose longs for new scent worlds, my wallet for being emptied, and lo and behold, the blind sample drawer is still bursting at the seams, which is why I am now starting this blind test series.
Blind tests have a clear advantage: Without being blinded by brand or perfume names, the shape and color of the bottle, one decides only with the nose whether the scent is pleasing or not. The association here occurs solely based on olfactory stimuli. Sensory cells in a dark room, so to speak, on white paper, in the endless cosmos, oh let’s skip this rambling and get started directly!
My nose is already quite curious, and I am a little excited, as I have hardly engaged with the topic in recent months. One could almost say I am enveloped by a slight sense of failure anxiety.
The small sample comes from my Easter secret gift package, my secret gift patroness has lovingly labeled it with a colorful egg sticker and a number. The liquid inside is light, with a slight beige tint.
Sniffing at the spray head reveals a creamy perfume. Exactly the right thing for a cozy Friday evening.
To conclude on scent notes here would be naive, even though a large tonka bean is laughing loudly in my head. I had heard nothing about laughing beans until now…
Upon spraying, this suspicion is not confirmed; I catch almost cologne-like hints, something metallic, rather clean, but still a warm feeling in the background. The scent is immediately likable to me, and I spray again, as one can comfortably apply this generously. Its scent structure feels familiar.
Herbaceous notes come into play, very soft, no herbal spikes or prickly conifers. "Fresh nature" shoots through my brain. Petitgrain or something similar, expansiveness, air. A bright and friendly day, perhaps a slightly cooler spring morning. No flowers, just green as far as the eye and nose can see.
And yet, at the back, it becomes creamier, not vanilla cream, rather a gentle moss bed one would want to lay down on immediately, to gather strength, to relax. There is no rush here. Perhaps behind the next mossy hill lies a quiet lake or a very peaceful sea. Perhaps a butterfly flutters by, barely audible. A gentle breeze surrounds the idyll, intangible, barely noticeable, and yet there is more present than nothing.
Hardly do I detach myself from the scene, my brain wants to dictate brand names to me and browse through the collection of nice perfumes, yet I still want to linger a little longer and sniff again.
The moss gains more depth, as if one were now sniffing through the slightly spicy earth, with a hint of sweetness. And a light scent of rain.
Fine herbs hide in the moss, not dried, almost dusty, but fresh, delicate.
A wellness scent.
It reminds me a little of my beloved Bois d’Orange, just much more delicate.
I find it hard to pin down the notes, even though I strongly assume Petitgrain; it could also be very light, unsweetened neroli, along with something mossy-green, perhaps also galbanum and fine herbs. I’m guessing a cologne. For the first test, I don’t want to stick my neck out too far and reveal it, because you already know: Neroli D’ispahan by Boucheron
What a beautiful image for the first blind test!