
Meggi
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Meggi
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19
In the End, Not So Great
According to the manufacturer's website, closeness to nature is the declared goal of the fragrance. Achieved. Jasmine - with a lifelike bitter undertone. Fortunately, it is more floral than indolic-failed. The bitter note intensifies in the first few minutes. Directly on the skin, the scent becomes downright unpleasant; from a distance, it unfolds a stern aura that would have suited an elderly elementary school teacher from times gone by.
In the following hours, a bit of calm returns, but the base tone remains. Static, unwelcoming. Increasingly less floral, dull, and - if that is even possible - more straightforward. I want to give it some credit for a certain freshness. That kind of freshness that grandma might have lightly sprayed over her bed linens before they went into the closet.
By late morning, I think of a base of waxy amber and something pea-green. A fragment of violet? The jasmine stink is somewhat softened by this, but by no means defeated. Around noon, it even cranks up the indole dial; I actually imagine it getting stinkier. In an almost absurd way, however, it becomes simultaneously more bearable. Finally, something emerges that I can call a perfume. The jasmine may have become stronger, but it nestles better into the meager remainder due to its (also relative) reduction in volume. Moreover, I am now sure that other flowers are involved, including stinky spring bloomers of the caliber of daffodil or so. I can't say anything more precise. Alongside this, I sense a steadily swelling contribution of creamy-light musk. Overall, the fragrance gradually takes on the impression of a strong-powdery body cream from the sixth or seventh hour, lasting into the evening. That's okay, though certainly not my thing.
All in all, it's still not that great. My favorite colleague also wrinkled her nose. And she can handle a lot! If I add that I suddenly had to think of rancid frying oil one morning, it’s probably enough said.
Conclusion: It does manage to somewhat recover in the afternoon, yet it remains the low point of my Angela Flanders test series. With the next tests - I can reveal this in advance - I was fortunately able to crawl out of this valley again.
In the following hours, a bit of calm returns, but the base tone remains. Static, unwelcoming. Increasingly less floral, dull, and - if that is even possible - more straightforward. I want to give it some credit for a certain freshness. That kind of freshness that grandma might have lightly sprayed over her bed linens before they went into the closet.
By late morning, I think of a base of waxy amber and something pea-green. A fragment of violet? The jasmine stink is somewhat softened by this, but by no means defeated. Around noon, it even cranks up the indole dial; I actually imagine it getting stinkier. In an almost absurd way, however, it becomes simultaneously more bearable. Finally, something emerges that I can call a perfume. The jasmine may have become stronger, but it nestles better into the meager remainder due to its (also relative) reduction in volume. Moreover, I am now sure that other flowers are involved, including stinky spring bloomers of the caliber of daffodil or so. I can't say anything more precise. Alongside this, I sense a steadily swelling contribution of creamy-light musk. Overall, the fragrance gradually takes on the impression of a strong-powdery body cream from the sixth or seventh hour, lasting into the evening. That's okay, though certainly not my thing.
All in all, it's still not that great. My favorite colleague also wrinkled her nose. And she can handle a lot! If I add that I suddenly had to think of rancid frying oil one morning, it’s probably enough said.
Conclusion: It does manage to somewhat recover in the afternoon, yet it remains the low point of my Angela Flanders test series. With the next tests - I can reveal this in advance - I was fortunately able to crawl out of this valley again.
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