C₁₆H₂₆O CinisLabs

I don't wear fragrances to please other people. No, you can't say that. I wear fragrances for myself because I like them and because I like them on me. If someone else also likes them on me, then fine. If not, then no. But I also wear fragrances to drive other people crazy. Primarily when I have to sit in an office or a meeting with some colleagues: Then I wear a selected fragrance to very subtly play up my dominance to my counterpart. He/she can't smell me anyway, and then I also hit him/her with a slightly overdosed, highly unpleasant fragrance and ruin his/her day. With most molecular fragrances, it's the other way around: I hardly smell anything on myself and those around me subtly perceive something not unpleasant. No, I really don't need something like that, it's not worth anything.

C₁₆H₂₆O comes without a box. That is perhaps a little sad. On the other hand, in times when perfumes from trendy brands seem to be sold only in shoe boxes, nothing here takes up unnecessary space and what costs nothing cannot drive up the price of the perfume pointlessly. The bottle is a simple standard square from the wholesale shelf. Dark back wall, minimally designed simple sticker and a plain tinplate stopper that weighs nothing. The generously cheap atomizer does not distribute mist, but a rather annoying drizzle.

For the life of me, I can't say what I smell in the perfume. But it's definitely not "Nothing!", as some other perfumistas attest. It is something sweet and musty. A very watery, light fruit spritzer that was perhaps forgotten for a few days in summer. A synthetic impact of an already well-gassed solvent, as we know it from cheap small pieces of furniture that we are allowed to cobble together with the help of instructions in Uzbek, Arabic or Albanian. But maybe it's also slightly yellowed moving boxes that are already slightly crumbling and I wouldn't bet another penny on their stability.

Molecular fragrances are supposed to be perceived more strongly by the social environment than by the wearer themselves. Far from it: my floating peach blossom neither fell around my neck beaming with joy (2%), nor did it send me to the bathroom with a friendly hint for all-encompassing body care (97%). For the sake of completeness, it should be said that about 1% of the time she would like to hose me down with a C-jet in the garden in front of her neighbors (head cinema: Pulp Fiction). At this scent, she only slightly wrinkled her nose and turned away, bored. After all.

I don't like to rate fragrances with a single star, but this fragrance is pretty insubstantial for me and what little there is doesn't even come close to being "nice."

If you have the choice, then you'd better invest two minutes in front of any drugstore shelf and choose the least bad deodorant spray for 2.99. You and the environment get more out of it. Much more, in fact.