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The other side of Aspen
Dihydromyrcenol or 2,6-dimethyl-7-octen-2-ol.
This miracle molecule of the 1980s is said to smell fresh, bitter, clean, like lavender, coriander seeds and citrus fruits and characterizes the present fragrance.
Boy, has this particle hit the fragrance and household world since then.
But seriously, who is going to enjoy reading through a bone-dry chemistry lesson in order to better understand the polymerization of the molecule - viscosity tendency, decreasing odour and its avoidance through suitable inhibitors?
There is more than enough free information on the net for this, dear noses.
And aren't slanted lines sometimes easier to digest?
I mean, when I read through the OVP of this little water, my inner piano strings are struck with the hammer of a scary movie.
It reads as follows:
"Crisp mountain air and wide open spaces captured in a distinctive fragrance for men.
Aspen cologne for men - live it in Aspen."
Not even an exclamation mark is used as a symbolic imperative.
Boy, does that sound inspired and gripping.
Yawn...
The fragrance could be quite fun, it's all about that certain kick.
Well, then I'll follow the manufacturer's request in my own way!
Hiss!
Boy, it gets minty fresh here for a moment, a little citrusy too.
But the miracle molecule is not long in coming and colors the top note a surreal green.
Difficult to describe, perhaps more comprehensible in the heart note.
Because this is where the concentrated power of "support" is revealed.
I can't help but detect a small hint of calone in the vetiver. This grass smells greenish "fruity".
Incidentally, this fruity impression also extends the life of the lemon, rather than that of the bergamot.
The lavender, however, is transported to another dimension.
The herb takes on several shades at once:
fresh, green-herbaceous, citrusy, bright and clean.
As if you were standing in front of a chitinous superplant, so clear and real that you see it as if in a 3D film, but cannot grasp it.
What makes up the scent within the molecule family are the sweetly ethereal spruces. They conjure up the actual ski resort with fresh snow and a cloudless sky in the bottle.
Quite freshly wooded, but never dark.
Striking oakmoss, which is somewhat dry here and slightly salty spiced by ambergris.
This is how Aspen, Colorado and the Pacific coast of California shifts.
The main impression will therefore remain woody fresh, neo-lavendery, slightly citrusy and mossy salty for hours and will also end that way.
The bottle is very well designed for the price.
Forest green glass, copper-colored lid matching the metallic cap of the atomizer with green nozzle.
Inexpensive does not necessarily mean unimaginative.
The Aspen coat of arms with the eponymous aspen tree also adorns the front of the octagonal bottle.
Aspen, what a wonderful ski resort in the Rocky Mountains of Colorado.
Sometime in the 1970s, this small but beautiful town was sung about and culturally adopted by the counter-movement of folk musicians a la John Denver. Said singer moved there.
At that time, a so-called moral decay set in, at least according to the virtual town chronicle.
(Dirty things probably happened, something for exciting synapses!)
In concrete terms, however, the community remained one of the most exclusive ski resorts in the USA.
So how does a Fougère from 1989 fit in here?
If it is the spruce in the fragrance, then I wonder why everything is kept so surreal.
Well, in the wake of Drakkar Noir, Green Irish Tweed and Cool Water, a cheap edition had to be created for the people with the miracle molecule. Like a dime novel with country music for real men with a distinctive moustache.
Wait, moustache, ski resort, moral decay, 1980s.
Hmm...
I've got it!
All the ingredients for a proper 1980s slasher!
The expendable characters, the two-dimensional characters whose slaughter is only meant to emphasize the reprehensible dark side of the slasher, are quickly identified.
Mint-Jeff, Bergamot-Chad, Vetiver-Dick, Oakmoss-Casey and Lavender-Al.
Our butcher of the fragrance progression wears a ski mask and a bold sweatshirt labeled "Dihydromyrcenol".
Oh yes, soundtrack from 1989: The Jesus and Mary Chain - Head On.
Death track, here I come!
Hiss!
Mint Jeff and Bergamot Chad are still having problems on the ski lift.
On wobbly legs, they try to get the right momentum from the spitting lift chair.
Their breath is quite green and citrusy fresh.
But before they can even reach the ski slope...
Slit!
Oh no, oh woe, their bodies colored in surreal shades of green, no more wriggling!
And that in broad daylight!
Meanwhile, a nasty figure hides behind the spruce trees...
Meanwhile, Vetiver-Dick is flirting on the slope and wants to do one of those sour somersaults on the ramp.
Lavender-Al is not only a little more coolly sober, he smells the surreal last sign of life from his missing friends.
Something's not right here, he thinks...
All this leaves Vetiver-Dick cold, he's here in Aspen to have fun.
Not only Lavender-Al, but also Oakmoss-Casey are now pretty sure that something is getting out of hand.
Their warning calls bounce off Vetiver-Dick.
He takes a running start, keeps the ramp in his sights, accelerates and takes off with both skis!
Wow, what a jump!
But dear Dicky, there's a funny ski mask waiting between the spruces for you to land...
Slit!
His moustache wags a little as he breathes out his last vital breath. And again surreally colored green...
At this point, Oakmoss Casey and Lavender Al panic; they were still able to catch the murderer disappearing into the spruce grove.
Oakmoss-Casey is once again as pale as chalk and unable to think clearly.
Lavender-Al tries to encourage him, they would make it out of here alive and soapy as always.
But Oakmoss-Casey is so confused by the surreal smell of his dead buddies that he takes a wrong turn on the raging ski descent to the valley and can't see the wood for the trees.
A surreal branch overgrown with moss lichen will also be the last thing he sees on earth.
Slit!
Last man standing Lavender-Al must face the murderer, who is not long in coming.
The two face each other in a clearing.
And then the ski mask falls!
What?
The little brother of Lavender-Al?
The one they put in an asylum to hide his greenish deformity from others?
He starts with the usual slasher enlightenment of the 1980s, even for the very snoozy.
"You were always Dad's favorite, nobody wanted or loved me.
You always shone with good grades, showed nobility and sincerity.
And me?
My dark resentment turned me green and I had to be given away like a defective car! But let me tell you, the seeds of evil run in the family.
It only takes the right moment to transform you.
Did you think our father was above it all?
He, the Paco Rabanne, that scoundrel, had the germinating molecule in his heart, only he skillfully hid it!
But he sent me to a clinic in Ireland when he recognized my change.
I hated you even more for it, because you were allowed to have friends and fun! And now I've taken them away from you, you're nothing without them!"
A scuffle ensues, the inevitable disposal of the meanie with the randomly passing snowplow.
Unfortunately, our lavender hero gets some of the greenish snow.
And in the distance, the Greyhound bus to California waits with a New West advertising sign.
Lavender Al's gaze darkens...
This miracle molecule of the 1980s is said to smell fresh, bitter, clean, like lavender, coriander seeds and citrus fruits and characterizes the present fragrance.
Boy, has this particle hit the fragrance and household world since then.
But seriously, who is going to enjoy reading through a bone-dry chemistry lesson in order to better understand the polymerization of the molecule - viscosity tendency, decreasing odour and its avoidance through suitable inhibitors?
There is more than enough free information on the net for this, dear noses.
And aren't slanted lines sometimes easier to digest?
I mean, when I read through the OVP of this little water, my inner piano strings are struck with the hammer of a scary movie.
It reads as follows:
"Crisp mountain air and wide open spaces captured in a distinctive fragrance for men.
Aspen cologne for men - live it in Aspen."
Not even an exclamation mark is used as a symbolic imperative.
Boy, does that sound inspired and gripping.
Yawn...
The fragrance could be quite fun, it's all about that certain kick.
Well, then I'll follow the manufacturer's request in my own way!
Hiss!
Boy, it gets minty fresh here for a moment, a little citrusy too.
But the miracle molecule is not long in coming and colors the top note a surreal green.
Difficult to describe, perhaps more comprehensible in the heart note.
Because this is where the concentrated power of "support" is revealed.
I can't help but detect a small hint of calone in the vetiver. This grass smells greenish "fruity".
Incidentally, this fruity impression also extends the life of the lemon, rather than that of the bergamot.
The lavender, however, is transported to another dimension.
The herb takes on several shades at once:
fresh, green-herbaceous, citrusy, bright and clean.
As if you were standing in front of a chitinous superplant, so clear and real that you see it as if in a 3D film, but cannot grasp it.
What makes up the scent within the molecule family are the sweetly ethereal spruces. They conjure up the actual ski resort with fresh snow and a cloudless sky in the bottle.
Quite freshly wooded, but never dark.
Striking oakmoss, which is somewhat dry here and slightly salty spiced by ambergris.
This is how Aspen, Colorado and the Pacific coast of California shifts.
The main impression will therefore remain woody fresh, neo-lavendery, slightly citrusy and mossy salty for hours and will also end that way.
The bottle is very well designed for the price.
Forest green glass, copper-colored lid matching the metallic cap of the atomizer with green nozzle.
Inexpensive does not necessarily mean unimaginative.
The Aspen coat of arms with the eponymous aspen tree also adorns the front of the octagonal bottle.
Aspen, what a wonderful ski resort in the Rocky Mountains of Colorado.
Sometime in the 1970s, this small but beautiful town was sung about and culturally adopted by the counter-movement of folk musicians a la John Denver. Said singer moved there.
At that time, a so-called moral decay set in, at least according to the virtual town chronicle.
(Dirty things probably happened, something for exciting synapses!)
In concrete terms, however, the community remained one of the most exclusive ski resorts in the USA.
So how does a Fougère from 1989 fit in here?
If it is the spruce in the fragrance, then I wonder why everything is kept so surreal.
Well, in the wake of Drakkar Noir, Green Irish Tweed and Cool Water, a cheap edition had to be created for the people with the miracle molecule. Like a dime novel with country music for real men with a distinctive moustache.
Wait, moustache, ski resort, moral decay, 1980s.
Hmm...
I've got it!
All the ingredients for a proper 1980s slasher!
The expendable characters, the two-dimensional characters whose slaughter is only meant to emphasize the reprehensible dark side of the slasher, are quickly identified.
Mint-Jeff, Bergamot-Chad, Vetiver-Dick, Oakmoss-Casey and Lavender-Al.
Our butcher of the fragrance progression wears a ski mask and a bold sweatshirt labeled "Dihydromyrcenol".
Oh yes, soundtrack from 1989: The Jesus and Mary Chain - Head On.
Death track, here I come!
Hiss!
Mint Jeff and Bergamot Chad are still having problems on the ski lift.
On wobbly legs, they try to get the right momentum from the spitting lift chair.
Their breath is quite green and citrusy fresh.
But before they can even reach the ski slope...
Slit!
Oh no, oh woe, their bodies colored in surreal shades of green, no more wriggling!
And that in broad daylight!
Meanwhile, a nasty figure hides behind the spruce trees...
Meanwhile, Vetiver-Dick is flirting on the slope and wants to do one of those sour somersaults on the ramp.
Lavender-Al is not only a little more coolly sober, he smells the surreal last sign of life from his missing friends.
Something's not right here, he thinks...
All this leaves Vetiver-Dick cold, he's here in Aspen to have fun.
Not only Lavender-Al, but also Oakmoss-Casey are now pretty sure that something is getting out of hand.
Their warning calls bounce off Vetiver-Dick.
He takes a running start, keeps the ramp in his sights, accelerates and takes off with both skis!
Wow, what a jump!
But dear Dicky, there's a funny ski mask waiting between the spruces for you to land...
Slit!
His moustache wags a little as he breathes out his last vital breath. And again surreally colored green...
At this point, Oakmoss Casey and Lavender Al panic; they were still able to catch the murderer disappearing into the spruce grove.
Oakmoss-Casey is once again as pale as chalk and unable to think clearly.
Lavender-Al tries to encourage him, they would make it out of here alive and soapy as always.
But Oakmoss-Casey is so confused by the surreal smell of his dead buddies that he takes a wrong turn on the raging ski descent to the valley and can't see the wood for the trees.
A surreal branch overgrown with moss lichen will also be the last thing he sees on earth.
Slit!
Last man standing Lavender-Al must face the murderer, who is not long in coming.
The two face each other in a clearing.
And then the ski mask falls!
What?
The little brother of Lavender-Al?
The one they put in an asylum to hide his greenish deformity from others?
He starts with the usual slasher enlightenment of the 1980s, even for the very snoozy.
"You were always Dad's favorite, nobody wanted or loved me.
You always shone with good grades, showed nobility and sincerity.
And me?
My dark resentment turned me green and I had to be given away like a defective car! But let me tell you, the seeds of evil run in the family.
It only takes the right moment to transform you.
Did you think our father was above it all?
He, the Paco Rabanne, that scoundrel, had the germinating molecule in his heart, only he skillfully hid it!
But he sent me to a clinic in Ireland when he recognized my change.
I hated you even more for it, because you were allowed to have friends and fun! And now I've taken them away from you, you're nothing without them!"
A scuffle ensues, the inevitable disposal of the meanie with the randomly passing snowplow.
Unfortunately, our lavender hero gets some of the greenish snow.
And in the distance, the Greyhound bus to California waits with a New West advertising sign.
Lavender Al's gaze darkens...
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Axiomatic
