10/30/2023
Pollita
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Pollita
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Back to the eighties
In the eighties and early nineties, fruits still gave a perfume a sensual appeal. Here a little plum, there a little pineapple and the whole combined with a lush floral heart and a velvety, soft and provided with a teeny bit of schmutzel base.
Such a one is also Clandestine by Guy Laroche, which sends me on the first sniff back to the hair salon that my entire family, from grandma to me, had visited in the eighties. The salon had two owners, I. and I. My grandma and my mom loved going there. For me, it took a little while to appreciate those visits because as a kid, due to my super thin baby hair, like so many other kids in the eighties, I got the typical boil cut. It was cruel! Only when I was finally allowed to grow my hair, despite great protests from my mother, I also began to enjoy going to the hairdresser.
Exactly such a scent hung there in the air. Probably a combination of the hair care products, perhaps also the signature scent of one or both owners or - what was then also common - they sold fragrance plus matching care series in the store. I seem to recall that they actually sold perfume.
Clandestine, like many fragrances from that era, manages to make the fruit shine in a wonderful way. There is nothing sticky or too sweet here. The scent is somewhat reminiscent of the forbidden fruit in the Bible. Sinful and yet so enticing. Add to that florals at their very best. A powdery, dry iris that reminds me of the opulently perfumed hairspray sprayed back in the day. Heliotrope and jasmine bring a fine sweetness, as does ylang-ylang, and even the roses and tuberoses, which are not always my very best friends, are tucked in here in a wonderfully noble way.
The base is dominated by musk, together with fine balsamic amber. The civet note is so discreet and refined integrated that I could even with it.
As soon as I have Clandestine in my nose, I'm back in the hair salon. I'm a little older though and starting to enjoy it. My first hair color in dark, rich red-purple, hach yes, that had something. Thank you Clandestine. And thank you, dear MrsCherry, for the testing opportunity.
Such a one is also Clandestine by Guy Laroche, which sends me on the first sniff back to the hair salon that my entire family, from grandma to me, had visited in the eighties. The salon had two owners, I. and I. My grandma and my mom loved going there. For me, it took a little while to appreciate those visits because as a kid, due to my super thin baby hair, like so many other kids in the eighties, I got the typical boil cut. It was cruel! Only when I was finally allowed to grow my hair, despite great protests from my mother, I also began to enjoy going to the hairdresser.
Exactly such a scent hung there in the air. Probably a combination of the hair care products, perhaps also the signature scent of one or both owners or - what was then also common - they sold fragrance plus matching care series in the store. I seem to recall that they actually sold perfume.
Clandestine, like many fragrances from that era, manages to make the fruit shine in a wonderful way. There is nothing sticky or too sweet here. The scent is somewhat reminiscent of the forbidden fruit in the Bible. Sinful and yet so enticing. Add to that florals at their very best. A powdery, dry iris that reminds me of the opulently perfumed hairspray sprayed back in the day. Heliotrope and jasmine bring a fine sweetness, as does ylang-ylang, and even the roses and tuberoses, which are not always my very best friends, are tucked in here in a wonderfully noble way.
The base is dominated by musk, together with fine balsamic amber. The civet note is so discreet and refined integrated that I could even with it.
As soon as I have Clandestine in my nose, I'm back in the hair salon. I'm a little older though and starting to enjoy it. My first hair color in dark, rich red-purple, hach yes, that had something. Thank you Clandestine. And thank you, dear MrsCherry, for the testing opportunity.
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