06/29/2021
Profumo
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"Après l'Ondée", slightly turned on
Orson Welles!
Who does not like to adorn himself with this giant of the art of acting, this great director and storyteller, whose radio play of the War of the Worlds Carine Roitfeld listened to with her whole family as a young girl spellbound.
This voice alone!
And she loves New York (who doesn't, really?). The lush floral arrangements of the Carlyle Hotel in Uptown, which could have come from an Orson Welles movie. "But my lover is an artist living downtown, which is a city of its own. So, it's a complex mix of two cities," French said in an interview.
I see.
I don't recognize Orson Welles in her fragrance "Orson," nor does the image of an artist living downtown (nor anywhere else) pop up in my mind's eye.
That with the lush floral arrangements comes, however, although these are not necessarily a New York, but just as well any x-any hotel lobby in the middle of nowhere could decorate.
So much for marketing blah blah, but that's what it takes.
The fragrance is still good, but hello!
Aurélien Guichard has composed it, and the man can be known what! He has proven that not only with all new Piguet fragrances.
Here he now puts a flower in the center, which one unfortunately no longer often encounters in modern, contemporary perfumery: the flower of the hawthorn.
Usually it comes in tow with mimosa and vanilla flower (also called heliotrope), here for a change times with tuberose.
Who believes, however, that the notorious speaker tuberose also here everything, respectively, the hawthorn to the wall duftet, is wrong.
Guichard has the moody diva discreetly clamped. She accentuates the hawthorn slightly, giving it a more floral, lighter touch. In itself, after all, the flower of hawthorn tends toward a more muted tone, almost crossing into papery-powdery, light-woody territory (and meeting mimosa and heliotrope here). So it's a good fit. However, the mood is neither airy nor fresh; that's just not in keeping with the scent character of hawthorn. No, it is rather sultry and humid, like after a heavy rain shower in high summer. Or as they would say in France: Après l'ondée.
Which brings me to the fragrance of the same name, which "George" reminds me of.
"George" is, in a way, a modern "Après l'Ondée", by which I don't mean to say that the Guerlain fragrance is even remotely old-fashioned, not at all. "George" is more of a reinterpretation of the old classic. A very independent, however, because the fragrance develops, apart from the central hawthorn theme (presumably represented by an anisaldehyde called '4-methoxybenzaldehyde'), just in the base completely different.
Here come namely visibly penetrating indoles into play. Whether they come from the hawthorn I do not know, would also be new to me, since I have never associated its fragrance with Indolik. Maybe from the tuberose, which has indeed indolic nuances in the luggage - but equal to so many?
Well, I don't know. Maybe Guichard just added some indoles, too. After all, it's easy to do nowadays, when everything can be extracted and synthesized down to the smallest detail.
So, who knows.
In any case, "Orson" visibly reveals this delicate facet in the course of the fragrance. But not enough with the fact that the ashy nuances are becoming more and more smoky, also joins a subliminal urine note, as it is found, for example, in the fragrance spectrum of sage. Yes, I even have the suspicion that a homeopathic droplet of Animalis (or Civetone) could have flowed into the recipe - it smells sometimes gauzy after it.
Imagination, perhaps.
No imagination, at least, seems to be the precarious indolic, which a Fragrantica commenter describes thus: "A bit like the smell of a homeless person, but not as repulsive."
Repulsive?
On no account, on the contrary: for me, the fragrance unfolds here a decidedly erotic flair, develops an underlying lasciviousness, winking with the promise of voluptuous sensuality flirting- at times only makeshiftly concealed by the remnants of the flower bouquet.
I find this more than stimulating, I find this arousing!
Thank the god of olfaction that after all these years of ozonic-clean scents, sweet gourmands and synthetic woody-ambers, the 'skank' seems to be halfway respectable again!
For all its indolence, though, 'Orson' isn't a veritable stinker, never fear.
A few balsams, but especially the nutty-vanilla scent of tonka bean sustainably hedge in the lechery before it gets completely out of control.
Although not a fan of the bean, I have to admit that I like it downright well here. It sort of picks up the powdery, light floral hawthorn theme and takes it into a darker, woodier tone, as if an eggshell white is slowly flowing into beige and eventually light brown. This is also where the scent increasingly loses its sweetness.
What ultimately remains, after many hours, on the skin, is a dry-woody, minimally balsamic-sweet aroma, with the distant echo of an erotically scented blossom.
Doesn't that sound good?
It is good.
By the way, also absolutely unisex, at least according to my impression.
After "George" "Orson" is now the second 'lover' who holds with me Einzug.
Scent-wise monogamous I was never.
Who does not like to adorn himself with this giant of the art of acting, this great director and storyteller, whose radio play of the War of the Worlds Carine Roitfeld listened to with her whole family as a young girl spellbound.
This voice alone!
And she loves New York (who doesn't, really?). The lush floral arrangements of the Carlyle Hotel in Uptown, which could have come from an Orson Welles movie. "But my lover is an artist living downtown, which is a city of its own. So, it's a complex mix of two cities," French said in an interview.
I see.
I don't recognize Orson Welles in her fragrance "Orson," nor does the image of an artist living downtown (nor anywhere else) pop up in my mind's eye.
That with the lush floral arrangements comes, however, although these are not necessarily a New York, but just as well any x-any hotel lobby in the middle of nowhere could decorate.
So much for marketing blah blah, but that's what it takes.
The fragrance is still good, but hello!
Aurélien Guichard has composed it, and the man can be known what! He has proven that not only with all new Piguet fragrances.
Here he now puts a flower in the center, which one unfortunately no longer often encounters in modern, contemporary perfumery: the flower of the hawthorn.
Usually it comes in tow with mimosa and vanilla flower (also called heliotrope), here for a change times with tuberose.
Who believes, however, that the notorious speaker tuberose also here everything, respectively, the hawthorn to the wall duftet, is wrong.
Guichard has the moody diva discreetly clamped. She accentuates the hawthorn slightly, giving it a more floral, lighter touch. In itself, after all, the flower of hawthorn tends toward a more muted tone, almost crossing into papery-powdery, light-woody territory (and meeting mimosa and heliotrope here). So it's a good fit. However, the mood is neither airy nor fresh; that's just not in keeping with the scent character of hawthorn. No, it is rather sultry and humid, like after a heavy rain shower in high summer. Or as they would say in France: Après l'ondée.
Which brings me to the fragrance of the same name, which "George" reminds me of.
"George" is, in a way, a modern "Après l'Ondée", by which I don't mean to say that the Guerlain fragrance is even remotely old-fashioned, not at all. "George" is more of a reinterpretation of the old classic. A very independent, however, because the fragrance develops, apart from the central hawthorn theme (presumably represented by an anisaldehyde called '4-methoxybenzaldehyde'), just in the base completely different.
Here come namely visibly penetrating indoles into play. Whether they come from the hawthorn I do not know, would also be new to me, since I have never associated its fragrance with Indolik. Maybe from the tuberose, which has indeed indolic nuances in the luggage - but equal to so many?
Well, I don't know. Maybe Guichard just added some indoles, too. After all, it's easy to do nowadays, when everything can be extracted and synthesized down to the smallest detail.
So, who knows.
In any case, "Orson" visibly reveals this delicate facet in the course of the fragrance. But not enough with the fact that the ashy nuances are becoming more and more smoky, also joins a subliminal urine note, as it is found, for example, in the fragrance spectrum of sage. Yes, I even have the suspicion that a homeopathic droplet of Animalis (or Civetone) could have flowed into the recipe - it smells sometimes gauzy after it.
Imagination, perhaps.
No imagination, at least, seems to be the precarious indolic, which a Fragrantica commenter describes thus: "A bit like the smell of a homeless person, but not as repulsive."
Repulsive?
On no account, on the contrary: for me, the fragrance unfolds here a decidedly erotic flair, develops an underlying lasciviousness, winking with the promise of voluptuous sensuality flirting- at times only makeshiftly concealed by the remnants of the flower bouquet.
I find this more than stimulating, I find this arousing!
Thank the god of olfaction that after all these years of ozonic-clean scents, sweet gourmands and synthetic woody-ambers, the 'skank' seems to be halfway respectable again!
For all its indolence, though, 'Orson' isn't a veritable stinker, never fear.
A few balsams, but especially the nutty-vanilla scent of tonka bean sustainably hedge in the lechery before it gets completely out of control.
Although not a fan of the bean, I have to admit that I like it downright well here. It sort of picks up the powdery, light floral hawthorn theme and takes it into a darker, woodier tone, as if an eggshell white is slowly flowing into beige and eventually light brown. This is also where the scent increasingly loses its sweetness.
What ultimately remains, after many hours, on the skin, is a dry-woody, minimally balsamic-sweet aroma, with the distant echo of an erotically scented blossom.
Doesn't that sound good?
It is good.
By the way, also absolutely unisex, at least according to my impression.
After "George" "Orson" is now the second 'lover' who holds with me Einzug.
Scent-wise monogamous I was never.
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