Top Notes 
Fig
Green leaves
Spices
Heart Notes 
Italian jasmine
Lily of the valley
Base Notes 
Balsam fir
Gaiac wood
Indian sandalwood
Labdanum
Musk
Meggi
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Meggi
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11
In Search of the Olphantom
I found only scant information about F&J online. The distribution is supposedly exclusive through the turquoise-colored ones. However, it seems there isn't much going on here anymore. The entire program is still available in Austria and Lithuania. In Poland, it is even marked as "New," which is better left uncommented. The static, slender F&J web presence is managed by Toni Gard Fashion GmbH, which appears to be similarly closely tied to the folks from Hagen. A quick search of free sources (e.g., Federal Gazette; after all, absolutely every nonsense is published there) yielded no concrete traces of a deeper entanglement. However, I wasn't keen on searching for too long. So I am now simply speculating that F&J is de facto a private label. Why else would the only web presence - stylishly ending in .com - of a supposedly New York-based producer be in German at a legally significant point? Be that as it may, it remains the feeling of having chased an olphantom. Perhaps someone else knows more.
A F&J origin story, including a mention of Mr. F.'s historical merits, was launched at the start of the fragrance line in 2010 on an allegedly independent cosmetics site. However, the style and quality of the text, as well as the source reference, show that it was not a reasonable journalist but a turquoise-colored copywriter at the level of an advertising sheet (or a terribly bad translator) at work, and - et voilà - a summary of the elaboration can promptly be found on the blue-green presence. Despite all the stylistic bloopers, it was a claim presented with verve! Here are some samples (real treats for dear Y.):
"The dedicated perfumers have drawn from the full. For example, they used real vanilla instead of vanillin, which costs a fortune." - "This limitless freedom allowed fragrances to emerge that break boundaries." - "Förster & Johnsen have focused on the 8 most beautiful states of mind and qualities: happiness, self-confidence, serenity, courage, love, energy, freedom, and the unexpected. To... [mention of the fragrances]... create these, they sent the best perfumers in Europe into the realm of natural fragrances..." - "Of course, Förster & Johnsen did not reinvent aromachology, but they brought it into a world-class format." Two times eight fragrances (one for men and one for women) make a total of 17. One named "Spa," intended for both, was added on top.
In Hamburg, F&J was available in the branch variant with the addition "Select." The store is, like its siblings, now closed; I never understood how one can so offensively segment their customers, even if it’s just the products being referred to. Part of the assortment was displayed in the nearby store for former lower-class customers, while the rest was, financially significantly compressed, sold off. For example, 30 ml of serenity for 15 euros, previously a hefty 60 had been due. We grabbed some here and there after a brief sniff of the paper strip to exclude an openly olfactory olfaGAU. My daughter even received the Last-One-Turn-Off-the-Light tester with a little bit of "Surprise," which at least proved this fragrance lived up to its name in one respect.
Only later, when removing the foil, did I notice the substantial weight of the box. Heavy for 30 ml; hopefully, the fragrance isn't based on mercury. But no, from the cardboard glides a box made of deep dark wood, visually resembling wenge. A little scratching hints at a more common origin; be that as it may - it looks good, and why slaughter tropical wood for packaging? The box consists of two parts held together by small magnets at the corners. The F&J logo is carved into the outside, albeit undoubtedly machine-made. Still, it has style. I almost expect the bottle to rise silently like something out of a Bond film, while somewhere a neat, white Persian cat purrs, but both remain absent. The bottle then presents itself as expectedly small, with a wooden cap, matching the box. What a packaging! Compared to this, the boxes from Amouage seem downright cheap. Masterfully accomplished is, in every respect, the evocation of expectations.
Sprayed on boldly and off into the day. Not bad, the first impression. An original blend: fig, with the spice I guess is pink pepper, and quickly follows the wood. I suspect guaiac, which I unfortunately have never experienced pure. But soon, a certain mustiness undeniably reveals itself. Well, that might settle down, let's wait calmly... Hey, the serenity thing worked immediately!
As the scent develops, it increasingly reminds me of the sweetly synthetic pressed wood smell that fills the room when opening a pack of Billy and Co. (without the Boy, I'm talking about the furniture!) in the natural wood look variants. How incredibly fitting, where it is well known that the most important and always missing tool for assembly in the provided hodgepodge is indeed serenity!
An airy, sweet-balsamic wood scent with a caramel-toffee-like undertone. Wasn't there something? Oh yes, right: Bad luck. My freshly minted personal master of all classes in terms of light-caramel wood scent, L’Homme Sage, cannot even remotely polish the carbon compounds of Serenity. The airiness of LHS is not a result of present absence, but of absent presence. It’s possible that Serenity would have fared better had it not had to face this unfair direct comparison.
Possible, but unlikely. Because arriving at a musk-wood base after barely six hours is simply not enough for such a claim. It reminds me a bit of the middle part of Floris' Santal, where a spice-based, strict wood note somewhat unhappily mingles with musk in my opinion. Could this be due to the declared (let's remember the text of our star writer) strictly natural ingredients? *more-than-slight-doubt-spreading*.
For the surroundings, it reportedly smells quite O. K. as I have been told. If that is enough for someone... For me, at least, a recommendation does not flow easily from my fingers. I am curious to see how the other Blofeld-style exhibits perform.
A F&J origin story, including a mention of Mr. F.'s historical merits, was launched at the start of the fragrance line in 2010 on an allegedly independent cosmetics site. However, the style and quality of the text, as well as the source reference, show that it was not a reasonable journalist but a turquoise-colored copywriter at the level of an advertising sheet (or a terribly bad translator) at work, and - et voilà - a summary of the elaboration can promptly be found on the blue-green presence. Despite all the stylistic bloopers, it was a claim presented with verve! Here are some samples (real treats for dear Y.):
"The dedicated perfumers have drawn from the full. For example, they used real vanilla instead of vanillin, which costs a fortune." - "This limitless freedom allowed fragrances to emerge that break boundaries." - "Förster & Johnsen have focused on the 8 most beautiful states of mind and qualities: happiness, self-confidence, serenity, courage, love, energy, freedom, and the unexpected. To... [mention of the fragrances]... create these, they sent the best perfumers in Europe into the realm of natural fragrances..." - "Of course, Förster & Johnsen did not reinvent aromachology, but they brought it into a world-class format." Two times eight fragrances (one for men and one for women) make a total of 17. One named "Spa," intended for both, was added on top.
In Hamburg, F&J was available in the branch variant with the addition "Select." The store is, like its siblings, now closed; I never understood how one can so offensively segment their customers, even if it’s just the products being referred to. Part of the assortment was displayed in the nearby store for former lower-class customers, while the rest was, financially significantly compressed, sold off. For example, 30 ml of serenity for 15 euros, previously a hefty 60 had been due. We grabbed some here and there after a brief sniff of the paper strip to exclude an openly olfactory olfaGAU. My daughter even received the Last-One-Turn-Off-the-Light tester with a little bit of "Surprise," which at least proved this fragrance lived up to its name in one respect.
Only later, when removing the foil, did I notice the substantial weight of the box. Heavy for 30 ml; hopefully, the fragrance isn't based on mercury. But no, from the cardboard glides a box made of deep dark wood, visually resembling wenge. A little scratching hints at a more common origin; be that as it may - it looks good, and why slaughter tropical wood for packaging? The box consists of two parts held together by small magnets at the corners. The F&J logo is carved into the outside, albeit undoubtedly machine-made. Still, it has style. I almost expect the bottle to rise silently like something out of a Bond film, while somewhere a neat, white Persian cat purrs, but both remain absent. The bottle then presents itself as expectedly small, with a wooden cap, matching the box. What a packaging! Compared to this, the boxes from Amouage seem downright cheap. Masterfully accomplished is, in every respect, the evocation of expectations.
Sprayed on boldly and off into the day. Not bad, the first impression. An original blend: fig, with the spice I guess is pink pepper, and quickly follows the wood. I suspect guaiac, which I unfortunately have never experienced pure. But soon, a certain mustiness undeniably reveals itself. Well, that might settle down, let's wait calmly... Hey, the serenity thing worked immediately!
As the scent develops, it increasingly reminds me of the sweetly synthetic pressed wood smell that fills the room when opening a pack of Billy and Co. (without the Boy, I'm talking about the furniture!) in the natural wood look variants. How incredibly fitting, where it is well known that the most important and always missing tool for assembly in the provided hodgepodge is indeed serenity!
An airy, sweet-balsamic wood scent with a caramel-toffee-like undertone. Wasn't there something? Oh yes, right: Bad luck. My freshly minted personal master of all classes in terms of light-caramel wood scent, L’Homme Sage, cannot even remotely polish the carbon compounds of Serenity. The airiness of LHS is not a result of present absence, but of absent presence. It’s possible that Serenity would have fared better had it not had to face this unfair direct comparison.
Possible, but unlikely. Because arriving at a musk-wood base after barely six hours is simply not enough for such a claim. It reminds me a bit of the middle part of Floris' Santal, where a spice-based, strict wood note somewhat unhappily mingles with musk in my opinion. Could this be due to the declared (let's remember the text of our star writer) strictly natural ingredients? *more-than-slight-doubt-spreading*.
For the surroundings, it reportedly smells quite O. K. as I have been told. If that is enough for someone... For me, at least, a recommendation does not flow easily from my fingers. I am curious to see how the other Blofeld-style exhibits perform.
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