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08/29/2020
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Colonialwaren VI: Cheerful chamber music in the light forest
G.F. Trumpers Wild Fern embodies for me the quiet, cheerful, pastoral England. It is the olfactory counterpart to Ralph Vaughan Williams' somewhat later symphonic works such as "The Lark Ascending": modest yet brilliant, playful yet thoughtfully well-placed.
Although largely free of citric (that little bit of bergamot, oh, that's not really a fruit, that belongs to Earl Grey!), Wild Fern is also a cologne par excellence, uncomplicated (at least it doesn't pretend to be so), simple, highly refreshing, unobtrusive in character, also reserved in durability. Perhaps more imaginable in gentlemen, but in the end it suits every fine person (certainly not screaming and bragging hens of both sexes).
The fragrance begins stomatologically light green: light green herbal strips in white chalky toothpaste (from the metal, not plastic tube) and light green dentist's gowns amidst well-disinfected, almost metallic cleanliness. Wherever that comes from. Here Wild Fern promises to be a little difficult for a few minutes. Very soon, however, a fine, velvety lavender note opens up, rounds off the fragrance in the most pleasant way and takes away the pointedness of the opening and the user's fear of the drill.
Next, darker, tart herbal notes pulsate, clearly basil, tarragon also sounds to me, and change the picture again a little, shifting it for the first time actually in the direction of a woody coolness, as it is for a Fougère (and after all, Fern is only the English word darfür). Light remains the scene nevertheless.
Here now, less than ten minutes have passed, the picture stabilizes and then shifts only gradually: Cool, green, and yet cheerful and bright freshness, through which the mint of the perhaps not irritating, but nevertheless attentive opening is always strongly penetrating.
After perhaps thirty or sixty minutes, there are woody notes from afar and, wherever from, a maritime breeze (why not, England is on an island). Earthy, although Wild Fern always stays grounded, is not to be detected: The patchouli, probably used only homeopathically, may set some counterpoint in the olfactory center that is not consciously perceived, but does not act itself.
If you step into the room where you tested the fragrance after a while, there is also an (almost sweet) softness in the air that you had not noticed on your skin. Finely mossy cushions and small hidden wild raspberries perhaps.
* *
As with my earlier series "Colonia instead of Corona", here are a few scents that would belong in this series here, but which I will not comment on again because I had already done so before the series opened.
Colonial goods VIa (Agua Brava)
Under Colonial Goods III, "Brummel" from the house of Puig had been discussed by Rosendo Mateu. To add to this is the likewise very classical "Agua Brava" from the same house by the same artist, similarly conceived, but greener and even more beautiful and highly recommended. I commented on it separately not too long ago.
Although largely free of citric (that little bit of bergamot, oh, that's not really a fruit, that belongs to Earl Grey!), Wild Fern is also a cologne par excellence, uncomplicated (at least it doesn't pretend to be so), simple, highly refreshing, unobtrusive in character, also reserved in durability. Perhaps more imaginable in gentlemen, but in the end it suits every fine person (certainly not screaming and bragging hens of both sexes).
The fragrance begins stomatologically light green: light green herbal strips in white chalky toothpaste (from the metal, not plastic tube) and light green dentist's gowns amidst well-disinfected, almost metallic cleanliness. Wherever that comes from. Here Wild Fern promises to be a little difficult for a few minutes. Very soon, however, a fine, velvety lavender note opens up, rounds off the fragrance in the most pleasant way and takes away the pointedness of the opening and the user's fear of the drill.
Next, darker, tart herbal notes pulsate, clearly basil, tarragon also sounds to me, and change the picture again a little, shifting it for the first time actually in the direction of a woody coolness, as it is for a Fougère (and after all, Fern is only the English word darfür). Light remains the scene nevertheless.
Here now, less than ten minutes have passed, the picture stabilizes and then shifts only gradually: Cool, green, and yet cheerful and bright freshness, through which the mint of the perhaps not irritating, but nevertheless attentive opening is always strongly penetrating.
After perhaps thirty or sixty minutes, there are woody notes from afar and, wherever from, a maritime breeze (why not, England is on an island). Earthy, although Wild Fern always stays grounded, is not to be detected: The patchouli, probably used only homeopathically, may set some counterpoint in the olfactory center that is not consciously perceived, but does not act itself.
If you step into the room where you tested the fragrance after a while, there is also an (almost sweet) softness in the air that you had not noticed on your skin. Finely mossy cushions and small hidden wild raspberries perhaps.
* *
As with my earlier series "Colonia instead of Corona", here are a few scents that would belong in this series here, but which I will not comment on again because I had already done so before the series opened.
Colonial goods VIa (Agua Brava)
Under Colonial Goods III, "Brummel" from the house of Puig had been discussed by Rosendo Mateu. To add to this is the likewise very classical "Agua Brava" from the same house by the same artist, similarly conceived, but greener and even more beautiful and highly recommended. I commented on it separately not too long ago.
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