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Notes01/23/2021
Parfümlein
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Parfümlein
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14
One minute to twelve
While working in bed this morning (yes, that's right, right now actually!), I say to the coffee-serving hubby, "Smell how I smell!" I'm wearing Boucheron le Parfum today. He: "Hmm... Wait... that could be... that COULD be perfume!" Me: "... That joke is so old, I can hear the beard winder groaning.... You might as well put on some perfume!" And here it comes, the long awaited exclamation, "There's nothing left in there!"
Oh, dear!
It's one minute to twelve!
There's a manly scent running low in the house of Perfume!
And just this fragrance has a) only two registered Parfumo users, b) no comment and no statement and c) 8.5 points!
In all brevity - because in this lies, as is well known, above all the spice - and also because I have no time at all, quickly a few words to this fragrance...
First: Yep! It's done! I'm glad hubby has finally emptied this fragrance, it was given to him by his ex many light years ago. Twenty years I've been married now and twenty years this behemoth of a 125 ml pour bottle has been.... yes, perhaps not directly between us, but nevertheless between my body oils and English powder on the beautiful, antique bedroom chest of drawers known to you by now...
Secondly, it was - quite unrelated to the ex who, unbeknownst to me, sought me out in my student digs one fine Sunday morning with the meaningful words, "Is he here?"; an experience of which I have rather unpleasant memories - a very beautiful, a fine fragrance.
What always intrigued me about this perfume was the exceptionally strange, rare sweetness I smelled in the opening. This slight sweetness always demonstrated a far-from-mainstream, individuality that came across very, very quietly. Very unobtrusive and in that respect, I have to hand it to the ex, very well chosen for my husband: no testosterone hugger. No Pantydropper. But also nothing in the direction of British Landlord Harristweed understatement. No French niche refinement, with the popular corners and edges as an invitation to an olfactory voyage of discovery. Instead, it is perhaps most likely an Italian feeling of sunny, gentle sovereignty, independence from fashion, from self-portrayal, from image cultivation. And therefore, despite everything - in the sense of Watzlawick's axiom - a statement: you can't not communicate, can you?
This opening, I now know, was the cognac, which entered into a wonderful melange with the lemon, the lavender and the allspice in the most beautiful harmony. A fragrance to dream, that much I can say.
As it progressed, Escada pour Homme après Rasage always behaved very gently, as is just the way of a classic aftershave. A few long hours, maybe six, I could always perceive the fragrance very well on my husband, and he is really not a Dick-Auftrager. In this respect, the durability as well as the sillage was absolutely excellent.
A soft, beautiful, subtle and delicate fragrance has come to an end here. A few words I wanted to dedicate to him. Farewell, Escada pour Homme!
Oh, dear!
It's one minute to twelve!
There's a manly scent running low in the house of Perfume!
And just this fragrance has a) only two registered Parfumo users, b) no comment and no statement and c) 8.5 points!
In all brevity - because in this lies, as is well known, above all the spice - and also because I have no time at all, quickly a few words to this fragrance...
First: Yep! It's done! I'm glad hubby has finally emptied this fragrance, it was given to him by his ex many light years ago. Twenty years I've been married now and twenty years this behemoth of a 125 ml pour bottle has been.... yes, perhaps not directly between us, but nevertheless between my body oils and English powder on the beautiful, antique bedroom chest of drawers known to you by now...
Secondly, it was - quite unrelated to the ex who, unbeknownst to me, sought me out in my student digs one fine Sunday morning with the meaningful words, "Is he here?"; an experience of which I have rather unpleasant memories - a very beautiful, a fine fragrance.
What always intrigued me about this perfume was the exceptionally strange, rare sweetness I smelled in the opening. This slight sweetness always demonstrated a far-from-mainstream, individuality that came across very, very quietly. Very unobtrusive and in that respect, I have to hand it to the ex, very well chosen for my husband: no testosterone hugger. No Pantydropper. But also nothing in the direction of British Landlord Harristweed understatement. No French niche refinement, with the popular corners and edges as an invitation to an olfactory voyage of discovery. Instead, it is perhaps most likely an Italian feeling of sunny, gentle sovereignty, independence from fashion, from self-portrayal, from image cultivation. And therefore, despite everything - in the sense of Watzlawick's axiom - a statement: you can't not communicate, can you?
This opening, I now know, was the cognac, which entered into a wonderful melange with the lemon, the lavender and the allspice in the most beautiful harmony. A fragrance to dream, that much I can say.
As it progressed, Escada pour Homme après Rasage always behaved very gently, as is just the way of a classic aftershave. A few long hours, maybe six, I could always perceive the fragrance very well on my husband, and he is really not a Dick-Auftrager. In this respect, the durability as well as the sillage was absolutely excellent.
A soft, beautiful, subtle and delicate fragrance has come to an end here. A few words I wanted to dedicate to him. Farewell, Escada pour Homme!
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