Eau de Froehliche No. 2 Erik Kormann 2013

Look out cat lovers!

A keen sense of trends in perfumery is what Erik Kormann - the perfumer of Eau de Fröhliche #2 - shows us with his latest release: frankincense always arouses interest. It stands for certain romantic clichés: mystical fumes in medieval abbey churches, monk's cowls, Gregorian chants and so on... Also, its oriental origin assigns this resin to the Arab fragrance spectrum. Welcome to 1001 nights!

But frankincense has a lot more potential. Basically, it communicates something like thoroughness, sternness, or formalism. I smell sobriety and clarity in it, linked to a remarkable depth of the scent. Therefore, frankincense would be the scent of the profound thinker, the philosopher or the hermit in the desert. Its music would be Bach's Art of Fugue, and its colour steel blue.

No, frankincense precisely does not contain that opulence and baroqueness that is generally linked to the concept of the mysterious and heavy scents of the orient. Similar to lavender or some other herbal notes, frankincense can IMHO downsize an otherwise too opulent fragrance.

This is also why frankincense might be a good choice as a key note in modern, soberly objective perfumes: for urban people, for sports enthusiasts, for the unpretentious and the active – and not so much for the romantic type of person. Not many frankincense perfumes lead us along that path, but Eau de Fröhliche #2 does so.

Mint and Bergamotte in the head notes, combined with an aniseed-like note prevent any attempt of sultriness. The mint accord fits well to the frankincense: we may enjoy its freshness without getting the impression of a harmless summer eau. The floral heart notes are carried out quite discreetly. They enhance the interplay between mint and frankincense without turning the fragrance away from its lean and slim direction. Being only head notes, mint and bergamot fade away some time – but not without leaving a trace behind. Mr. Kormann knew how to transfer their vibes down to the base notes.

There, the frankincense is surrounded by a wooden frame. This nice woody accord is dry but not too tart. It has the capability to add something to the cool frankincense which may remind us at bodily warmth. And so, Eau de Fröhliche #2 scrapes past the trap of being too formal and impersonal.

The well informed visitor finds Mr. Kormann in his shop in the centre of Berlin, not too far away from the Berliner Ensemble theatre which was directed by the famous German dramatist Bertolt Brecht. Brecht invented the so called Verfremdungseffekt (alienation effect). By means of interrupting the stage play the audience was to be deterred from the usual uncritical identification with the acting figures. Instead, an attitude of critical distance was to be invoked. It is also a kind of alienation which makes perfumes like Eau de Fröhliche #2 so thrilling. The way of treating the frankincense here disturbs the traditional clichés and expectations about that note quite severely and ideally forces the wearer into critical examination of those expectations. So, with Brecht, I would like to advise the audience: “Don't gawk so romantically!”

Eau de Fröhliche #2, including samples, is available for international customers at First-In-Fragrance.

She had not slept.
The night had somehow passed without her noticing, suddenly the clock struck five.
Now she stood at the sink, her head bowed, the overly bright light of the medicine cabinet stinging her eyes, the toothbrush moving almost without her doing.
Fresh, sharp mint scent rose to her nose, untangling the threads of thoughts from the night, strangely comforting in its familiarity.
She felt the knot between her shoulder blades loosen, her shoulders relax, a deep breath turning into a sigh.
It was time.

She slipped into her clothes.
A hint of anise lingered in the blazer, remnants of a fragrance she had worn the last time - she couldn't remember which one it had been, and it didn't matter.
Today it would only be a hint of cologne, barely noticeable, green and a little herb-dry, just like...
She pushed the thought aside.
Not now, not here.
The clock was ticking.
She slipped into her black pumps, took the key from the hook, and locked the door.

It was a short drive, the church was less than a quarter of an hour away.
She parked the car, sat for a moment with her hands in her lap.
Breathe, in and out, in and out, very calm, very deep.
Think of nothing.
She turned off the ignition, took her bag, and got out.
The morning was cool, one could feel the approach of autumn.
A hint of herbal spice lingered in the air, mixed with the scent of the old trees and the flowers that wafted over from beyond the gate.
She crossed the street, climbed the few steps, and entered the church.

No one was there yet - no one who could have seen her, who could have asked questions.
She stood still, shivering in the cool half-light of the nave.
It had been a long time since she had last entered a church - as a child, she had hated the hard wooden benches, the cold stone floors, the numbing clouds of incense that had always made her feel sick.
The booming of the organ had hurt her ears, the words of the priest had made no sense to her, some had even frightened her.
She reached out a hand, touched a hard wooden backrest.
They were old benches, dark and shiny wood, here and there a red cushion lay.
The air was still heavy with the smoke of the last mass, cool and dry, but not as harsh as in her memory.
Did they use a different mixture today?

Two candles stood at the front of the altar, large and white, already slightly burned down and gently flickering in a barely perceptible draft.
Between them lay the coffin, simple and made of light wood, just as he had wished.
One step, another, and another - she would only have had to reach out her hand to touch it, to feel the silky smoothness that had enveloped it, protected from all eyes.
She did not do it.
She stood still, the tips of her shoes just millimeters from the steps leading up to the altar, her back straight, her eyes dry, her gaze fixed on a point somewhere far ahead.
Seconds turned into minutes, lining up like pearls on a string.
The candles flickered, their warm scent mingling with that of the roses and all the other flowers.
Somewhere in the background, a door creaked, startling her from her reverie.
It was time.
Soon they would come, his friends and colleagues, his parents and siblings, all those who had belonged to him, who had been a part of his life and who would now miss him.
Including her, who wore his ring, who had borne his children.
She turned away - none of them had known that she existed, no one would find out now.
And as the large portal opened behind her again, she slipped unnoticed through the small door next to the confessionals.

1001 Seife has once again set aside the traditional soaps and fully dedicated itself to liquid soaps. Those liquid soaps that we all love so much.

Long awaited, now finally here, EdF No.2, in the cheeky #CatLover bottle.
And anyone who concludes, 'Hey, definitely something with civet!', can wipe that thought off their face and go pet the kitty.

And again no, EdF No.2 is not a Karl May smoke signal peace pipe sequel to EdF No.1.
Although, it is actually quite smoky here too!

In the name of the rose, Mr. Kormann has composed a completely unsweetened, refined, yes, spiritual, sacred incense water with a hint of mint and has thus mastered and completed 'The Second' with flying colors.
Standing ovations!

Now let's get to the most interesting part of the comment:
Four samples are here for giveaway! Serious inquiries please express nicely in the comments below. Your sentences are best started with 'Dear Lolita', +compliment, +reason.
Legal recourse is excluded, the draw decides; or I do.
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Edit 24.01.2013

To clear up any ambiguities, here are the facts from the original source:
http://www.aromatisches-blog.de/2013/01/22/das-parfum-eau-de-froehliche-nr-2/

It happened in Munich that the railway keeper Aloisius went to the local sweat bath (sauna) with his friend Seppl.
As they sat there sweating, Seppl said: "Yes, Loisl, are you going to pour another infusion?!" Aloisius then got up leisurely, grabbed the wooden ladle, and poured several times onto the hot sauna stove.
Instantly, the small room filled with biting heat and the unmistakable scent of mint, lemon, and larch pine.
"Yes, sacrament, that feels good!" shouted Sepp, and at that moment he saw Aloisius hit his head on the spruce wood bench.
"Aaaaloisius?" he called out in shock. Then two angels appeared, explaining to Seppl that Aloisius had just suffered a fatal heat stroke and should be taken to Peter to receive a new divine task in the kingdom of heaven. (Rejoice!)
So the angels packed up the recently deceased Aloisius and flew away with him.
On the way to heaven, however, one of the winged messengers got caught on the church tower's spire of the Munich Cathedral, and in their fright, the angels let go of Aloisius, who immediately fell through the window of the bell tower and landed directly in the baptismal font of the church. The holy water contained therein, which now seeped into every pore of Munich's Aloisius, had brought the deceased back to life. The confused and completely "holy" drenched resurrected man quickly left the cathedral and ran the long way back to the sauna. There he met his friend Seppl, who told him what had happened to him.
Delighted by the fact that the consecrated Aloisius had indeed escaped with his life, they went to the Hofbräuhaus and ordered a large Maß from the pretty Zenzi, and another, and since it was so nice, another one. And so they lost track of time...
... and since the durability of the holy water is so "damn and sewn" abundant, the consecrated Aloisius still sits there today, drinking a Maß... and another... and another... and since he hasn't died...
... he still smells good today!
~
Oh You Joyful - Sacrament, that feels so good!
~
Conclusion:
A cheerful anecdote about an equally witty and interesting fragrance; for this is how I encounter the second version of "Oh You Joyful"!
My first thought while testing was: the opening belongs in the good old Finnish sauna. Fresh, ethereal infusion on dry spruce wood! Once it gets sweaty, it becomes damn sacred. Roses have passed me by unnoticed or fallen too deep into the baptismal font. A heavy load of incense is loaded onto the musk ox, and off it goes to the three wise men towards infinity...
The consecrated base lasts nearly forever! Whether it is life-saving or life-extending, I doubt, but it surely has a somewhat numbing effect, as it feels a bit too sacred for me in the long run...
~
OVERALL IMPRESSION: Finnish sauna visit with cooling off in the baptismal font :-)
~
This is now the fourth Kormann fragrance I have dealt with, and I must confess; although these scents have their charm, they are no longer candidates for purchase for me! Somehow they all remind me a bit of the Hindu shops of the late seventies with their oil perfumes for dabbing in small brown bottles.
The brilliance and expression that I expect from a perfume is unfortunately not carried by any of the Kormanns. The WOW effect is absent for me. Thus, I categorize them as home and cozy scents for snugglers and couch potatoes (to which I do not belong) and personally classify them as not suitable for public wear.
Except for the church service on Christmas Eve, where this scent fits perfectly: Oh You Joyful, oh You Blessed.....
The only thing I cannot understand is my black cat, which Korrmann has placed on the bottle, as she is rather diabolical than sacred!

(Damn and sewn thanks to the dream team "Kirsch-Lolli" for this joyful fragrance experience.)

"Ha! Caught you! So this is where you've been hanging out!" I confront a caught-off-guard green fairy.

Two days ago, I was searching for her everywhere and sorely missed her, see comment on Absolument Absinthe. We wanted to celebrate a cannabis-infused party with her, but Madame was conspicuously absent.
"And what are YOU doing... HERE... anyway?" I ask, looking around the sacristy with curiosity.

With trembling wings, she launches into a five-hour confession, explaining that she is tired of life as a party queen and a symbol of a forbidden distillate with a shady reputation, that she has been redeemed and now wishes to serve the church - as a cleaning fairy and incense burner. Moreover, she has shed her name "green fairy" and wants to be addressed as "Holy Fairy" from now on.

I look at her doubtfully. Can she really be happy here? The incense seeps from the cracks of the cool, stony walls, and a few musty dust bunnies still scurry under the wooden benches. But she has really made an effort, cleaning and scrubbing with a large bucket of soapy water, so that everything now smells quite fresh. Somewhat fresh-musty. Curious. But certainly fitting, this choral of sin, redemption, and cleanliness.

"By the way, where is the rose?" I ask as casually as possible when I see a single wilted rose petal lying in a corner. The green F... oh, excuse me,... Holy Fairy looks nervously to the side and shooes a dust bunny back under the bench. "Who?" she asks.
Aha, catfight, I thought so. Two divas are always one too many, whether in Woodstock or the Vatican - and the stronger one has won.

I ask my little fairy if she has noticed that the cat is even depicted with ROSE-tte. She quickly makes the sign of the cross before bursting into loud, dirty laughter. Monk Musk finally chases us out the door and locks the church.

Thanks to Lolita!