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12/23/2018
Meggi
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Meggi
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17
Gärtner's burden and suffering
"Anyone who has a garden to tend deserves a medal," I read somewhere. As an owner of a garden of considerable size, I can basically understand the idea. However, it is also a question of entitlement. According to the good, old 80-20 rule (for us at the moment rather: 95-5), the garden can be brought roughly over the year with comparatively little work input, under acceptance of certain wildlife. But the moral justification for the neglect is readily available - because the insects are happy. Who, in order to take up the name of the fragrance, besides all the general work, thinks he has to style his bushes into extravagant shapes, is of course to blame himself.
Nevertheless, occasional pruning is unavoidable for some crops. Buchs needs regular shaving (in cloudy weather, otherwise he will get sunburned!) to avoid balding. Rhododendrons sometimes have to be cut back after decades (and then really heartedly, they don't really like it!), when perhaps the nice terrace boundary has gradually become the walls of a shaft. Gorse is a rampant plague anyway and should not be cut but cut off. And with that we have, so to speak, already ended up backwards with the ingredients. Well, boxwood is not explicitly mentioned, aaaaaber: With a little imagination, the boxwood-cut smells pipi-like-smelly. And we'll need the cue later. Not to mention the legacies of stray cat-eviches everywhere in the garden, which make the brave gardeners happy olfactorically from time to time.
Not to be left unmentioned are the true magic moments of the nursery, for example the autumnal discovery of a late flowering. This time we have the summer magnolia. And now we are finally in the topic, because a declared favourite note of the perfumer must not be missing: Champaka, a magnolia species. Today she has a quite honorable job, namely whitewashing some stench.
The opening impression of early flowering is, as it quickly turns out, still harmless. Within seconds, I think of some kind of leathery-pooped oud. And some bitter leaf, rhododendron with its alkaloids, for my sake. Ginster is also okay, it doesn't just proliferate, it also smells a lot when cut. There may be only a few who really love broom - and these few are without exception snails.
Above all, however, 'Topiary' becomes a didactic play in the sense of Hyraceum for me. An animal bitter note dominates the fragrance until the afternoon. It is probably supposed to indicate the stench of the shape-cut of the more evil woody plants. That Zibet does not appear in addition (to symbolize raking and weeding in the dirt below; see 3rd paragraph) is probably simply because this would be incompatible with sustainable natural perfumery. However, I suspect a proximity, although the sleep shit obviously has something stony and earthy with it. Relevant hints are welcome as always.
The present lad is really bad, similar to other scents with an animal focus, anyway only on the skin. With just a little distance it gets better, you could even speak of a kind of adhesive plaster attitude after a good hour. And the champaka bounces off the top. It's just stupid that it doesn't fit perfectly stylistically. A turning of the balancing fraction to more dark fruitiness from the progressive afternoon, flanked by a natural fragrance-typical, gentle waxy note, fits in better. To avoid misunderstandings: There is a white flower stink, and that to the end. In context, however, the effect is almost mild.
Compensation back or forth - until the evening there remains a peeled, still quite strong animalism, in which I even imagine a trace of smoke. Therefore 'Topiary' is a courageous, contradicting and resistance challenging announcement of the perfumer and deserves only for it recognition.
I thank Naimie54 for the rehearsal.
Nevertheless, occasional pruning is unavoidable for some crops. Buchs needs regular shaving (in cloudy weather, otherwise he will get sunburned!) to avoid balding. Rhododendrons sometimes have to be cut back after decades (and then really heartedly, they don't really like it!), when perhaps the nice terrace boundary has gradually become the walls of a shaft. Gorse is a rampant plague anyway and should not be cut but cut off. And with that we have, so to speak, already ended up backwards with the ingredients. Well, boxwood is not explicitly mentioned, aaaaaber: With a little imagination, the boxwood-cut smells pipi-like-smelly. And we'll need the cue later. Not to mention the legacies of stray cat-eviches everywhere in the garden, which make the brave gardeners happy olfactorically from time to time.
Not to be left unmentioned are the true magic moments of the nursery, for example the autumnal discovery of a late flowering. This time we have the summer magnolia. And now we are finally in the topic, because a declared favourite note of the perfumer must not be missing: Champaka, a magnolia species. Today she has a quite honorable job, namely whitewashing some stench.
The opening impression of early flowering is, as it quickly turns out, still harmless. Within seconds, I think of some kind of leathery-pooped oud. And some bitter leaf, rhododendron with its alkaloids, for my sake. Ginster is also okay, it doesn't just proliferate, it also smells a lot when cut. There may be only a few who really love broom - and these few are without exception snails.
Above all, however, 'Topiary' becomes a didactic play in the sense of Hyraceum for me. An animal bitter note dominates the fragrance until the afternoon. It is probably supposed to indicate the stench of the shape-cut of the more evil woody plants. That Zibet does not appear in addition (to symbolize raking and weeding in the dirt below; see 3rd paragraph) is probably simply because this would be incompatible with sustainable natural perfumery. However, I suspect a proximity, although the sleep shit obviously has something stony and earthy with it. Relevant hints are welcome as always.
The present lad is really bad, similar to other scents with an animal focus, anyway only on the skin. With just a little distance it gets better, you could even speak of a kind of adhesive plaster attitude after a good hour. And the champaka bounces off the top. It's just stupid that it doesn't fit perfectly stylistically. A turning of the balancing fraction to more dark fruitiness from the progressive afternoon, flanked by a natural fragrance-typical, gentle waxy note, fits in better. To avoid misunderstandings: There is a white flower stink, and that to the end. In context, however, the effect is almost mild.
Compensation back or forth - until the evening there remains a peeled, still quite strong animalism, in which I even imagine a trace of smoke. Therefore 'Topiary' is a courageous, contradicting and resistance challenging announcement of the perfumer and deserves only for it recognition.
I thank Naimie54 for the rehearsal.
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