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06/27/2021
Profumo
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Profumo
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Combination of Sex Pistols and Royal Family
The smell alone has kept me from smoking pot
Were earlier only the one or other WG of cannabis clouds, so some terrible left Antifa facility of course also, wafting one this sweetish-grassy Odeur today from every second bush against. It is already amazing how many young people ( young, not yet from the game console abgenabelte men mostly) today kiffen.
These meanwhile omnipresent weed clouds have me but not milder, quite the opposite - I like them today less than ever.
So why do I still get excited about "George"?
Good question.
Clearly cannabis is in the pyramid.
When I spray me "George", I actually have a millisecond the feeling, I could have picked up a whiff of this vermaledeiten stoner aroma, but no, actually it is a deception, a kind of 'self-fulfilling prophecy': sure comes to me immediately a joint cloud, and bang, there I mean to have already discovered it. A chimera, fortunately!
"George" is in fact not a stoner at all, but he grows hemp. Not on a grand scale, but a few plants are. Maybe he used to smoke pot, that may be, but his wild years in London's punk scene are long gone.
Why is he still growing hemp?
Well, I don't really want to know. Maybe he dries it to give it away afterwards, but maybe he just likes its smell. Contrary to expectations, I have to admit: I like him too, the smell.
I discovered this a few years ago, when I tested a new fragrance from a brand I really like: "Junky", by Jardins d'Écrivains. Again, I was previously skeptical when I read that the scent was inspired by William S. Burroughs, and that this inspiration inevitably gave birth to the note hemp. But then the scent smelled damn good, and the hemp gave it a fresh green-grassy aura that had purely nothing to do with the dull, cloying vapor of a smoldering joint.
Really?
Well, maybe it did, sort of. Presumably these fresh, subtly aromatic, almost minty facets take on a hay-like, cloying undertone as they dry, or resinate, which leads to that all-too-familiar odor nuisance when burned.
Fortunately, however, the hemp is still in full juice with "Junky", and so it is with "George".
"George" thus smells instantly impossibly fresh and bright green, bristling galbanum-bitter, damp violet-leathery, and brittle hemp-grassy.
Yann Vasnier has matched this trio perfectly. It lays down an almost euphoric, jubilant opening. What follows is a recognizable effort to calm down. The radiant green is enveloped in a classic chypre concept, at the centre of which a floral bouquet gives the fragrance depth, broadens it. It becomes visibly broader, more voluminous, but also more complex. The contrasting coexistence of flowers, stems, stalks and leaves is virtuously staged - Yann Vasnier is truly a master of his craft!
Grounding finds the successful melange on a substantial, not overly dark base of bitter-tinted oak moss (probably Evernyl or similar, since no Evernia, werder furfuracea nor prunastri is listed as an allergen), warm-woody patchouli and a trace of animalic-leathery castoreum, which is so really noticeable the day after, when you can still sniff after the beautiful remnants of the long-lasting fragrance.
In terms of durability and projection, I find "George", like all seven lovers, absolutely impeccable: consistent and with confident standing, yet with no fashionable tendency to SUV-like splurge. The proportions are classically French, comparable to the old Guerlains or Carons.
Yann Vasnier has created with this fragrance, I think, an exceedingly beautiful neo-classical green leather chypre with a little modern twist, somewhere between "Cristalle", "Aliage", "Grey Flannel" and the already mentioned "Junky".
A quote potpourri is "George" nevertheless not, rather, the fragrance - at least to me - completely self-sufficient, and despite its richness of contrast as if from a single cast.
For more than 8 years, Mme Roitfeld and the three perfumers of her choice (Gaurin, Guichard, Vasnier) have been fine-tuning their imaginary fragrance lovers - I think you can smell that. Not only in the case of "George", but also in the case of the other Lovers I've been able to test so far, the fragrance experience conveys a discernible care and passion for the subject matter. But this speaks not only for the fragrances themselves, their presumably selected raw materials, but for the entire presentation: the simple and nobly designed gray-green box, the hand-flattering haptic qualities of the heavy flacon (which reminds me with its curves of the Halston flacons of the 70s), the elegant, heavy metal closure, the perfectly nebulizing spray mechanism and, last but not least, a reduced and tastefully designed booklet that introduces the Lovers in detail and very briefly.
She wanted to create something that would endure, reported Mme Roitfeld, that would neither serve the mainstream nor deprive itself of any wearability in some niche corner, something that was connected to her life, her history, that reflected her personality - her 7 Lovers. In an interview with Papermag, Mme Roitfeld explained that these lovers do not mean affairs spread across the continents. Rather, they are people she admires: Orson Welles, Wong Kar-Wei, Lawrence of Arabie, aka Peter O'Toole. In addition, family references flowed in: her Russian origin on her mother's side, which is why she named her son Vladimir, an uncle named George, or her early muse Aurélien. Only Sebastian seems to be a purely fictional character, in whom she bundles her love of South America's most European city, Buenos Aires, and her love of the tango.
She also attached great importance to the quality of the fragrances, which explains their long creation time: she didn't want any quick fixes, everything should mature slowly. Just as she insisted on her independence, and avancen on the part of the market leaders L'Oreal, Estée Lauder and LVMH gave a rebuff, because these neither with the naming (some too unpronounceable), the Flakongestaltung (rather 7 different, than one for all) nor the highly concentrated expensive ingredients (cheaper substitutes in lower potency) d'accord went. So, with the help of her son Aurélien and Frederic Pignault of IFF, whom Tom Ford had recommended to her, as well as Pascal Gaurin, Yann Vasnier and Aurélien Guichard, she decided to fight it out alone, or in a small team.
"George," Roitfeld said, was a combination of the Sex Pistols and the Royal Family, in the guise of George VI, or rather the famous movie about him, "The King's Speech," which she liked a lot. She also loved the name, which sounded so wonderful in all languages. If she had a second son, he would be named George.
Well, whether ex-punk, faded king, imaginary son - this lover, who cultivates his love for green chypres, can not part with his old leather jacket and for nostalgic reasons a couple of hemp plants cherishes - this lover can leave me Ms. Roitfeld happy!
These meanwhile omnipresent weed clouds have me but not milder, quite the opposite - I like them today less than ever.
So why do I still get excited about "George"?
Good question.
Clearly cannabis is in the pyramid.
When I spray me "George", I actually have a millisecond the feeling, I could have picked up a whiff of this vermaledeiten stoner aroma, but no, actually it is a deception, a kind of 'self-fulfilling prophecy': sure comes to me immediately a joint cloud, and bang, there I mean to have already discovered it. A chimera, fortunately!
"George" is in fact not a stoner at all, but he grows hemp. Not on a grand scale, but a few plants are. Maybe he used to smoke pot, that may be, but his wild years in London's punk scene are long gone.
Why is he still growing hemp?
Well, I don't really want to know. Maybe he dries it to give it away afterwards, but maybe he just likes its smell. Contrary to expectations, I have to admit: I like him too, the smell.
I discovered this a few years ago, when I tested a new fragrance from a brand I really like: "Junky", by Jardins d'Écrivains. Again, I was previously skeptical when I read that the scent was inspired by William S. Burroughs, and that this inspiration inevitably gave birth to the note hemp. But then the scent smelled damn good, and the hemp gave it a fresh green-grassy aura that had purely nothing to do with the dull, cloying vapor of a smoldering joint.
Really?
Well, maybe it did, sort of. Presumably these fresh, subtly aromatic, almost minty facets take on a hay-like, cloying undertone as they dry, or resinate, which leads to that all-too-familiar odor nuisance when burned.
Fortunately, however, the hemp is still in full juice with "Junky", and so it is with "George".
"George" thus smells instantly impossibly fresh and bright green, bristling galbanum-bitter, damp violet-leathery, and brittle hemp-grassy.
Yann Vasnier has matched this trio perfectly. It lays down an almost euphoric, jubilant opening. What follows is a recognizable effort to calm down. The radiant green is enveloped in a classic chypre concept, at the centre of which a floral bouquet gives the fragrance depth, broadens it. It becomes visibly broader, more voluminous, but also more complex. The contrasting coexistence of flowers, stems, stalks and leaves is virtuously staged - Yann Vasnier is truly a master of his craft!
Grounding finds the successful melange on a substantial, not overly dark base of bitter-tinted oak moss (probably Evernyl or similar, since no Evernia, werder furfuracea nor prunastri is listed as an allergen), warm-woody patchouli and a trace of animalic-leathery castoreum, which is so really noticeable the day after, when you can still sniff after the beautiful remnants of the long-lasting fragrance.
In terms of durability and projection, I find "George", like all seven lovers, absolutely impeccable: consistent and with confident standing, yet with no fashionable tendency to SUV-like splurge. The proportions are classically French, comparable to the old Guerlains or Carons.
Yann Vasnier has created with this fragrance, I think, an exceedingly beautiful neo-classical green leather chypre with a little modern twist, somewhere between "Cristalle", "Aliage", "Grey Flannel" and the already mentioned "Junky".
A quote potpourri is "George" nevertheless not, rather, the fragrance - at least to me - completely self-sufficient, and despite its richness of contrast as if from a single cast.
For more than 8 years, Mme Roitfeld and the three perfumers of her choice (Gaurin, Guichard, Vasnier) have been fine-tuning their imaginary fragrance lovers - I think you can smell that. Not only in the case of "George", but also in the case of the other Lovers I've been able to test so far, the fragrance experience conveys a discernible care and passion for the subject matter. But this speaks not only for the fragrances themselves, their presumably selected raw materials, but for the entire presentation: the simple and nobly designed gray-green box, the hand-flattering haptic qualities of the heavy flacon (which reminds me with its curves of the Halston flacons of the 70s), the elegant, heavy metal closure, the perfectly nebulizing spray mechanism and, last but not least, a reduced and tastefully designed booklet that introduces the Lovers in detail and very briefly.
She wanted to create something that would endure, reported Mme Roitfeld, that would neither serve the mainstream nor deprive itself of any wearability in some niche corner, something that was connected to her life, her history, that reflected her personality - her 7 Lovers. In an interview with Papermag, Mme Roitfeld explained that these lovers do not mean affairs spread across the continents. Rather, they are people she admires: Orson Welles, Wong Kar-Wei, Lawrence of Arabie, aka Peter O'Toole. In addition, family references flowed in: her Russian origin on her mother's side, which is why she named her son Vladimir, an uncle named George, or her early muse Aurélien. Only Sebastian seems to be a purely fictional character, in whom she bundles her love of South America's most European city, Buenos Aires, and her love of the tango.
She also attached great importance to the quality of the fragrances, which explains their long creation time: she didn't want any quick fixes, everything should mature slowly. Just as she insisted on her independence, and avancen on the part of the market leaders L'Oreal, Estée Lauder and LVMH gave a rebuff, because these neither with the naming (some too unpronounceable), the Flakongestaltung (rather 7 different, than one for all) nor the highly concentrated expensive ingredients (cheaper substitutes in lower potency) d'accord went. So, with the help of her son Aurélien and Frederic Pignault of IFF, whom Tom Ford had recommended to her, as well as Pascal Gaurin, Yann Vasnier and Aurélien Guichard, she decided to fight it out alone, or in a small team.
"George," Roitfeld said, was a combination of the Sex Pistols and the Royal Family, in the guise of George VI, or rather the famous movie about him, "The King's Speech," which she liked a lot. She also loved the name, which sounded so wonderful in all languages. If she had a second son, he would be named George.
Well, whether ex-punk, faded king, imaginary son - this lover, who cultivates his love for green chypres, can not part with his old leather jacket and for nostalgic reasons a couple of hemp plants cherishes - this lover can leave me Ms. Roitfeld happy!
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