Cologne Bigarade Editions de Parfums Frédéric Malle 2001
31
Top Review
Like Twice a Three-Quarter "Ninth"
Freshly cut tangerine. No, not an orange, but tangerine. Those who don't know the difference have never been served a plate of this fruit by mom (or dad) as a child. It is truly astonishingly true to nature.
Soon, the fruity cloud settles on the skin, but the character of the fragrance remains intact. It feels absolutely wonderful, almost like those spritzing veils of "orange aerosol" that occasionally escape into the air when cutting, delighting everything in the vicinity. Only after a good hour does the watery freshness gradually retreat into a spicy-green-zesty base. Yet even after three hours, the orange leaf green and peel are still fresh. Along with it, a tiny hint of nearly imperceptible watery rose.
And it continues with original-exquisite fresh ideas: Around noon, I think - well? - suddenly of Christmas. Some back-and-forth pondering reveals that the combination of "sweet hay - coumarin - cinnamon" along with the remaining orange is responsible. Crazy, what Christmas vibes in a summer fragrance. A little later, orange woodruff soda comes to mind. It has turned out a bit sweet; I could have also done without the pinch of cinnamon in it. But since I have a penchant for fun drinks, that earns another plus point.
Towards the end, after about six hours, a relatively bland or uneventful synthetic cedar, in conjunction with a skeletal remnant of freshness of laboratory provenance and a fragment of the hay-coumarin-cinnamon sweetness, concludes the fragrance. One might find this exit, which is perfectly fine for a cologne at this time, rather abrupt - for me, it is quite a pleasure!
Because: A comparably artificial-fresh wood note, as offered by Mr. Ellena as a finale, is elevated by Mr. Schön in Escentric 02 to the core of a fragrance. So, after the elegant to original almost-naturalness of the earlier hours, I can now feel extravagantly avant-garde scented until late afternoon, to the extent that it requires its own perfume elsewhere. That is truly generous.
Thus, the abrupt end of the main fragrance part is not really an end; it rather starts again, so to speak. Similar to the way conductor Hans von Bülow (1830-1894; distantly related to Loriot) dealt with Beethoven's Ninth Symphony. Bülow simply refused to conduct the fourth movement, which he deemed inappropriate because it was embellished with vocal soloists and choir - keyword 'Ode to Joy' - he stopped after the Adagio and simply conducted the first three movements again. Here, it’s not the same fragrance again, but as an encore, a second one. Still crazy.
I thank Yatagan for the sample.
Soon, the fruity cloud settles on the skin, but the character of the fragrance remains intact. It feels absolutely wonderful, almost like those spritzing veils of "orange aerosol" that occasionally escape into the air when cutting, delighting everything in the vicinity. Only after a good hour does the watery freshness gradually retreat into a spicy-green-zesty base. Yet even after three hours, the orange leaf green and peel are still fresh. Along with it, a tiny hint of nearly imperceptible watery rose.
And it continues with original-exquisite fresh ideas: Around noon, I think - well? - suddenly of Christmas. Some back-and-forth pondering reveals that the combination of "sweet hay - coumarin - cinnamon" along with the remaining orange is responsible. Crazy, what Christmas vibes in a summer fragrance. A little later, orange woodruff soda comes to mind. It has turned out a bit sweet; I could have also done without the pinch of cinnamon in it. But since I have a penchant for fun drinks, that earns another plus point.
Towards the end, after about six hours, a relatively bland or uneventful synthetic cedar, in conjunction with a skeletal remnant of freshness of laboratory provenance and a fragment of the hay-coumarin-cinnamon sweetness, concludes the fragrance. One might find this exit, which is perfectly fine for a cologne at this time, rather abrupt - for me, it is quite a pleasure!
Because: A comparably artificial-fresh wood note, as offered by Mr. Ellena as a finale, is elevated by Mr. Schön in Escentric 02 to the core of a fragrance. So, after the elegant to original almost-naturalness of the earlier hours, I can now feel extravagantly avant-garde scented until late afternoon, to the extent that it requires its own perfume elsewhere. That is truly generous.
Thus, the abrupt end of the main fragrance part is not really an end; it rather starts again, so to speak. Similar to the way conductor Hans von Bülow (1830-1894; distantly related to Loriot) dealt with Beethoven's Ninth Symphony. Bülow simply refused to conduct the fourth movement, which he deemed inappropriate because it was embellished with vocal soloists and choir - keyword 'Ode to Joy' - he stopped after the Adagio and simply conducted the first three movements again. Here, it’s not the same fragrance again, but as an encore, a second one. Still crazy.
I thank Yatagan for the sample.
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21 Comments
Thanks, that saves me from having to read on pleasantly early.
Aldehydes are always worth a try for me, and neither the ubiquitous jasmine nor the conventional musk in the base can ruin or bore the scent for me. I’ll probably like it. Adding to my watchlist.