Perhaps you are like me and had something else in mind. With this Pentecost. This summer. And in general.
But as it looks, the weather is doing what Jens Spahn only manages to a limited extent, namely keeping us at home. The temperature remains consistently below average, the mood too, and the rain falls incessantly like in the days when wonders still happened in Bern.
So if you are currently doing nothing better - like me - I would like to extend an invitation to you: Make yourselves comfortable, take a relaxed tea in hand, preferably light, green, and floral, and then you already have the perfect mood for the magical scent that I want to recommend to you with missionary zeal: Welcome to a world where everything is light, warm, fragrant, and delicate, in the world of White Magnolia.
The creator of the perfume, Olivier Cresp, is probably no stranger to you. He is primarily - or co-responsible for megasellers like Angel by Mugler or the Light Blue by Dolce & Gabbana, which I have already passionately described, as well as classics like Femme by Rochas and, unfortunately, I must admit, also for the kitsch nightmare Black Opium by YSL. The success speaks for him; the man clearly knows what people like.
So in 2021, he created a new fragrance, White Magnolia for Etro, a slender, not extravagant fragrance pyramid, light transparency, captured in a transparent bottle with a paisley pattern, which looks like the vial of Galadriel at first glance, the light of the evening star, a glow in dark times… and if you get the impression that I am getting carried away, then you are probably right. I can't even tell you why that is, because the scent is not that extraordinary. But it enchants.
I have to start with the base, and then, consistently, also with the musk, because that is present from the very beginning. If you are now suppressing a yawn, thinking "Oh God, not another one of those clean musk scents!": I understand you. I feel the same way. After the hundredth time that some clever perfumer comes up with this all-purpose cuddle club, this olfactory tranquilizer that glues our judgment with Globalid, Ambrettolid, and Muscenon in a fluffy feel-good cloud, I feel a clear saturation regarding musk. Olivier Cresp seems to have understood this, because he doesn't just let the musk waft away, but he confines it by accompanying it with something warm and resinous that, in minimal dosage, probably belongs to cedar or to the white woods, which create more of an image in our imagination than they are real. This really doesn't make the scent edgy. But it gives it contour. It grounds it and lends it sensuality. And it creates a certain tension between soft and hard, fluff with an edge.
On top of that, like a sparkling crown, he places the magnolia. And this time it is a particularly cunning piece: It does not simply appear and then remain, which could potentially become annoying. Instead, it flickers through the scent, appears, sparkles like a sunbeam through the green leaves or, oh come on, like the evening star of the fairy queen, only to become quieter again, disappear, and reappear a few minutes later behind a cloud of musk. Perhaps the magnolia is accompanied by a hint of citrus, but that is minimal. It only serves to underline its fresh sweetness, just to put exclamation marks behind the fairy-like charm of the floral accord, another cheeky sparkle in this scent rich in brilliance.
Can you understand why one must love this perfume? That you apply it and smile? That it might be exactly the scent that fits this late corona summer: Full of mischief, flashing through our pandemic cocooning, full of delicate, unrestrained joy of life. A feather-light caress of our senses. A soul scent. Try it out!