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04/15/2019
Maggy4u
292 Reviews
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Maggy4u
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15
Over 40 Years
When I think of the vetiver scents that have been tested in recent years, they all have very similar DNA. Usually very fresh with this dominant. radiant spicy green note. I have noted this fragrance for a very long time for me also as Chefetagen fragrance. If you look at it with some distance (and perhaps also disillusionment), Boadicea, for example, uses the absolutely identical Vetiver building block in all its scents (with this note) - only at different concentrations. This may give rise to a certain expectation on the part of the brain to want to recognize this scent memory in every scent with vetiver in the name.
That's exactly why I wrote to Georg (Staudt) and asked why I suddenly seemed to have become "blind" at his Vetiver Man. I couldn't see the note. After a very dear and above all enlightening answer, I quickly realized that I was simply not open with my nose to let the scent work on me as a whole. Instead, I was looking for a (so far chemically reconstructed,) habitualized nuance of vetiver.
Georg uses over 40 years old, matured vetiver in his fragrance. Nature. Like so many times. And so I went again on the journey.
*
Vetiver Man starts warm, green and smoky. The colour of the fragrance is at least 30 shades brighter than the fragrance itself. He has something mystically dark, but vibrates with power and presence. Some petitgrain I mean to sniff out that gives a soft touch. Minimal light scattering.
Near the skin I notice freshly ground black pepper. Everything is reminiscent of Ormonde Jayne Man in the high fifty-percent perfume oil concentration. Here, too, there is an extrait.
The presence of the soul of conifers and oak moss gives the fragrance its calmly pulsating heart, while I increasingly "forget" that I absolutely want to keep track of the eponym.
And so I'm in the woods for hours. He's tight. Yeah, a little dark, too. But also protective and of a naturalness that lets me listen into myself. With each inhalation a connection is established. More and more.
And then, after hours, this green, bitter note emerges more and more. Separates from the oak moss and the needle green which has supported it since the beginning. Increasingly shifts the scent further into the light and still maintains the deep connection that has been created in the last few hours.
Yes, the vetiver reveals itself. Much more slender than his chemical alter egos.
Older. More mature. Unique.
Not reproducible.
And then I understood Georg's idea.
Wouldn't I also want to give it a fragrance if I owned a vetiver that had matured for more than 40 years?
Sure, I'm sure.
That's exactly why I wrote to Georg (Staudt) and asked why I suddenly seemed to have become "blind" at his Vetiver Man. I couldn't see the note. After a very dear and above all enlightening answer, I quickly realized that I was simply not open with my nose to let the scent work on me as a whole. Instead, I was looking for a (so far chemically reconstructed,) habitualized nuance of vetiver.
Georg uses over 40 years old, matured vetiver in his fragrance. Nature. Like so many times. And so I went again on the journey.
*
Vetiver Man starts warm, green and smoky. The colour of the fragrance is at least 30 shades brighter than the fragrance itself. He has something mystically dark, but vibrates with power and presence. Some petitgrain I mean to sniff out that gives a soft touch. Minimal light scattering.
Near the skin I notice freshly ground black pepper. Everything is reminiscent of Ormonde Jayne Man in the high fifty-percent perfume oil concentration. Here, too, there is an extrait.
The presence of the soul of conifers and oak moss gives the fragrance its calmly pulsating heart, while I increasingly "forget" that I absolutely want to keep track of the eponym.
And so I'm in the woods for hours. He's tight. Yeah, a little dark, too. But also protective and of a naturalness that lets me listen into myself. With each inhalation a connection is established. More and more.
And then, after hours, this green, bitter note emerges more and more. Separates from the oak moss and the needle green which has supported it since the beginning. Increasingly shifts the scent further into the light and still maintains the deep connection that has been created in the last few hours.
Yes, the vetiver reveals itself. Much more slender than his chemical alter egos.
Older. More mature. Unique.
Not reproducible.
And then I understood Georg's idea.
Wouldn't I also want to give it a fragrance if I owned a vetiver that had matured for more than 40 years?
Sure, I'm sure.
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