Baudelaire Byredo 2009

well, here we go again with bad mood regarding THIS designer nonsense, maybe I should slowly change my username to Statler and Waldorf, since I apparently just want to grumble about almost all newer fragrance releases ... - even though I finally had an epiphany about what feels like eighty percent of the postmodern fashion populists from the Berlin-Mitte faction, somewhere between Acne (the Swedish label, not the dermatological condition, and yes, I know they moved to Potsdamer Straße) and shopping at the Nike store, alongside Encre Noir, Geza Schön's molecules, and if I'm lucky, Sycomore (okay, I have to admit that one has more than just something, but it falls into the same category as the latter) smell like - ... since this piece of work really has nothing to do with the pioneer of literary modernism and also nothing to do with 'self-important' - daring dandyism, or pale-bloodless and eye-ringed Parisian fin-de-siècle decadence, which the manufacturers here probably wanted to conjure up: all I smell, albeit not in this order and also not listed in the fragrance pyramid, are DOMESTOS pickled PLUMS on a bed of charred-candied SANDALWOOD, and this with a longevity and sillage that the dead poet will surely roll in his grave in a hundred years begging for a bottle of laudanum.
I'm now having a glass of absinthe and hoping ... to forget ;-)
p.s. l'air de rien is, as a tribute to the namesake, a better choice here, in my opinion.