01/22/2020
Sniffsniff
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Once Matron has sat out...
I had my first encounter with terracotta at the beginning of December in a Husum perfumery. It was the bottle that captivated me with its Mediterranean feel and slightly antique reminiscences. But maybe it was just the longing for a little sunshine in the wet and cold winter in northern Germany that made me ask the saleswoman to have me spray terracotta on a test strip. Who knows? When I held the paper under my nose, the decision was quickly made in favour of the scent. Much too heavy and only then this concentrated floweriness. No. Check. Thanks
Two weeks later, in a Kiel branch of the Türkisen (the weather conditions were similarly desolate), I again encounter the sunny bottle. This time he stands in gripping height and allows me a second test without the expectant look of a saleswoman. Why I had to challenge a scent I didn't like at all in the first test a second time can probably not be explained rationally. It's a Guerlain, so he can't be all that terrible. And then there's this bottle again. This sun, this golden glowing content. And after all, some other fragrances had already taught me that sometimes it is time and not the first intuition that can turn aversion into favor. And paper is not skin, so I had to introduce the scent to my wrist. The first five minutes were truly no joy. Flowers. An impenetrable thicket of flowers. Sweet, crunchy flashy, intense. A massive matron, an opera diva in a floor-length satin dress, appears before my inner eye. One can hardly imagine how much strength and how many helping hands were needed to close the long zipper on her back. In her opulent décolleté there is an all the more opulent bouquet of white flowers. Jasmine, neroli, tiaré. And she comes closer and closer, wants to take me in her arms, crush me. No, this is really too much for me. I switch off the head cinema and instead devote myself to Guerlain's Insolence, which I spray on the remaining wrist.
During the drive back to the flat land, I am met again and again by a warm and inviting scent, which is carried by a pinch of coconut and a touch of vanilla. I feel comfortable and secure. My wrist wanders towards my nose and I notice with benevolence that the matron and her flower tourage have left. But it does not leave a battlefield, but a piazza. Somewhere in southern Tuscany, on a beautiful evening in August. Not Siena, this place would be too big and too open. But maybe Montepulciano. It's busy, but not full anymore. The old stones reflect the warmth of the roaring hot summer day and you treat yourself to a small aperitif. The flowers on my skin have interwoven with the other components of the fragrance to form a wonderful unity from which not a single ingredient stands out dominantly or even unpleasantly. What initially seemed to me to be violently sweet and exuberantly flowery has now turned into a creamy soft and incredibly flattering veil.
If I had to capture this fragrance in just two words, it would be warm and solar. I have never been able to experience another fragrance that could have so aptly captured the concept of a warming ray of sunlight olfactorically as terracotta. That is why this fragrance is not a summer scent for me. If I sat on this very piazza in Montepulciano, scented with terracotta, I would probably die of heat exhaustion. But on this sunny January day in the middle of the northern German nowhere, terracotta is my summery straw that makes me dream of the August evening in Montepulciano. By the way, this also works very well in drizzle and stormy wind. As soon as I wear terracotta, this scent seems to manipulate something at my synapses, suppressing my sensation of cold. Terracotta is therefore for me the scent of the tired of winter, longing for the light of summer.
As far as durability and silage are concerned, you have to admit that terracotta simply performs well. In contrast to me, he survives an eight-hour working day without signs of fatigue and is still clearly visible on my scarf even after three days. As far as Sillage is concerned, less here means more. With three sprays you are clearly noticed, if you overdose it, you run the risk that the matron and her bosom bouquet will be back at the door very quickly.
During the drive back to the flat land, I am met again and again by a warm and inviting scent, which is carried by a pinch of coconut and a touch of vanilla. I feel comfortable and secure. My wrist wanders towards my nose and I notice with benevolence that the matron and her flower tourage have left. But it does not leave a battlefield, but a piazza. Somewhere in southern Tuscany, on a beautiful evening in August. Not Siena, this place would be too big and too open. But maybe Montepulciano. It's busy, but not full anymore. The old stones reflect the warmth of the roaring hot summer day and you treat yourself to a small aperitif. The flowers on my skin have interwoven with the other components of the fragrance to form a wonderful unity from which not a single ingredient stands out dominantly or even unpleasantly. What initially seemed to me to be violently sweet and exuberantly flowery has now turned into a creamy soft and incredibly flattering veil.
If I had to capture this fragrance in just two words, it would be warm and solar. I have never been able to experience another fragrance that could have so aptly captured the concept of a warming ray of sunlight olfactorically as terracotta. That is why this fragrance is not a summer scent for me. If I sat on this very piazza in Montepulciano, scented with terracotta, I would probably die of heat exhaustion. But on this sunny January day in the middle of the northern German nowhere, terracotta is my summery straw that makes me dream of the August evening in Montepulciano. By the way, this also works very well in drizzle and stormy wind. As soon as I wear terracotta, this scent seems to manipulate something at my synapses, suppressing my sensation of cold. Terracotta is therefore for me the scent of the tired of winter, longing for the light of summer.
As far as durability and silage are concerned, you have to admit that terracotta simply performs well. In contrast to me, he survives an eight-hour working day without signs of fatigue and is still clearly visible on my scarf even after three days. As far as Sillage is concerned, less here means more. With three sprays you are clearly noticed, if you overdose it, you run the risk that the matron and her bosom bouquet will be back at the door very quickly.
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