Top Notes 
Citrus notes
Heart Notes 
Cedar
Iris
Vetiver
Base Notes 
Moss
Patchouli
Tonka bean
loewenherz
919 Reviews
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loewenherz
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29
Everything is One
Here is one that makes me pause for a moment and search for the right words (and I don't often search for words). Les Quatre Saisons - L'Automne is the last of the four seasonal fragrances from the pen of Thierry Wasser that I am commenting on here. And it is the most beautiful - just by a hair's breadth, though, ahead of L'Hiver, the winter - but still: the most beautiful. And a small miracle. And because I am still searching for words, I want to invoke Rilke instead, who once wrote about love:
'Once, at the edge of the grove,
we stand together, lonely
and are festive - like flames,
feeling: everything is One.
Holding each other tight,
we grow in the listening land
through the soft garments
like branch to branch.'
L'Automne, the autumn. Its crystal bottle is, like the others, handcrafted by Baccarat, each one lavishly adorned with over a hundred individually cut, tiny feathers. The Brazilian artist Janaïna Milheiro has made only twenty-two of these bottles - one more than for the other three seasons, is that a secret sign? - available exclusively at Guerlain in Paris for a surreal 16,000 euros. It contains 500 ml - dense, finely woven Extrait de Parfum, just like the other three seasons.
'A waking breath weighs
the clusters of the oleander.
See, we are no longer different.
And we sway as well.
'My soul feels,
that we are feeling our way at the gate.
And it asks you in the resting:
have you brought me here?'
And each one of these 500 ml is a feast for the senses - one in which Monsieur Wasser - again, like with L'Hiver - showcases and proves his entire mastery - far beyond the pink girl sweetness and buttery gourmand notes with which he is - not entirely unjustly - usually associated. Here is a fragrance full of broken and brittle tenderness, full of pale golden November sun behind softly floating morning mist. Here are hints of warm straw and fresh bread, of dry foliage and dark, good earth and the hint of a distant fire. Here are wounds and memories, are harsh beauty and contemplative calm, are bitter sweetness and washed-out sepia evening peace. Here is an arrival after a very long search, a nearly unanticipated exhalation at the end of an endless day. Here is a truly, truly great fragrance. I wore it for an afternoon. It was wonderful.
Conclusion, in Rilke's last two stanzas about love, about that exhalation and arrival after a long search:
'And you smile upon it
so splendid and cheerful.
And: soon we will wander on.
Gates open...
And we are no longer timid,
our path will be no woe,
will be a long avenue
from the past day.'
'Once, at the edge of the grove,
we stand together, lonely
and are festive - like flames,
feeling: everything is One.
Holding each other tight,
we grow in the listening land
through the soft garments
like branch to branch.'
L'Automne, the autumn. Its crystal bottle is, like the others, handcrafted by Baccarat, each one lavishly adorned with over a hundred individually cut, tiny feathers. The Brazilian artist Janaïna Milheiro has made only twenty-two of these bottles - one more than for the other three seasons, is that a secret sign? - available exclusively at Guerlain in Paris for a surreal 16,000 euros. It contains 500 ml - dense, finely woven Extrait de Parfum, just like the other three seasons.
'A waking breath weighs
the clusters of the oleander.
See, we are no longer different.
And we sway as well.
'My soul feels,
that we are feeling our way at the gate.
And it asks you in the resting:
have you brought me here?'
And each one of these 500 ml is a feast for the senses - one in which Monsieur Wasser - again, like with L'Hiver - showcases and proves his entire mastery - far beyond the pink girl sweetness and buttery gourmand notes with which he is - not entirely unjustly - usually associated. Here is a fragrance full of broken and brittle tenderness, full of pale golden November sun behind softly floating morning mist. Here are hints of warm straw and fresh bread, of dry foliage and dark, good earth and the hint of a distant fire. Here are wounds and memories, are harsh beauty and contemplative calm, are bitter sweetness and washed-out sepia evening peace. Here is an arrival after a very long search, a nearly unanticipated exhalation at the end of an endless day. Here is a truly, truly great fragrance. I wore it for an afternoon. It was wonderful.
Conclusion, in Rilke's last two stanzas about love, about that exhalation and arrival after a long search:
'And you smile upon it
so splendid and cheerful.
And: soon we will wander on.
Gates open...
And we are no longer timid,
our path will be no woe,
will be a long avenue
from the past day.'
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ParfumAholic
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