The Moon and I Floraïku 2017

Giving the liquid in the bottle a pale green-yellow color was unnecessary. There can be no doubt about what this is: green-bitter-spicy, almost smoky tea with fresh accents. Whether the liquid also tastes appropriate, I have not tested. Every spray is precious; the samples (many thanks to Verbena!) are meant to be shared further.

This has been wonderfully accomplished. Even the - I’ll just say it - slightly fishy undertone in the scent of damp, green tea leaves is present. Perhaps there is some resin involved here. Regardless, I am quite astonished at how lifelike this is. Green-strong, fragrant, and truly in that way "tea-like" that cannot be dissected any further conceptually. The freshness does gradually recede a bit, but a change in character does not occur for one to two hours - or hardly at all.

Only with the knowledge of what is to come can a hint of fruit be sensed quite early on. Today, it is likely responsible for providing a fine acidity that contributes to the airy, floating quality.

As time goes on, a rough-resinous-fruity base swells. Apricot has already been mentioned; I agree, provided the dried variety is meant. Corresponding plum would also work, and (seasonally appropriate) one could additionally think of figs - due to the intense, grainy sweetness. By midday, the scent is unrecognizable. A thin sweet-sour layer on the skin, reminiscent of nearly completely evaporated, aged dried fruit. Not greasy or rotten, just aged. Along with it, a dull and quiet contribution from bright, high-quality wood. Only with great difficulty can a thought of tea still be wrested from the epidermis. But it is at least possible.

Nevertheless, I no longer wish to call this a tea scent.

I do not know how tea scents are constructed, whether there is real tea in them, and - if so - how much and in what form (any relevant information is, of course, welcome). And I also do not know what longevity is typically to be expected. It seems to me that the present scent offers an opportunity to experience some tricks, and I enjoyed that. At the same time, I felt more like an observer allowed to peek behind the scenes of an illusionist. The magic, the enchantment, must inevitably suffer as a result. In this respect, I found ‘The Moon and I’ extremely exciting, but it did not touch me.

The… let’s say: performance over time is exemplary for the entire series and now leads me at the end of my Floraïku test series to the conclusion:

I find that the sustainable solidity of the scent painting of the opening has been sacrificed far too often. Most Floraïkus could not remotely fulfill what was promised by the artistically layered structures at the front. Moreover, especially with ‘First Dream of the Year’, the wonderful beginning, in my opinion, does not stand in any acceptable proportion to the rest, solely based on the temporal expansion. Not to mention the ambitious prices.

Whether the almost consistently calm demeanor can be called typically Japanese, or whether it merely caters to Central European clichés, I cannot judge.

The overall picture is therefore mixed. I did not experience a great hit, but also no real failure.