Poivre Samarcande Hermès 2004

A strict, patchouli-rough opening that immediately turns bitter. Oak? Possibly acorns? I would never have thought of that on my own, but fine by me. Oak leaves and acorns contain plenty of tannins and such stuff.

I grew up in a village, where we, as children, of course, examined and collected everything. We dragged bags full of acorns, especially to Mr. D. across the street, a forester who was happy to receive food for his animal protégés and always gave us a few marks in return. The autumnal windfall abruptly ended when the D. family emigrated to Cameroon one day.

Unfortunately, the two large oaks in front of our house also shed masses of leaves, which we always had to rake up practically to the last leaf because nothing would decompose in an acceptable time. Probably no fungus would touch that, which has its five senses together. It’s too tough and bitter for them. So: Tannin-bitter, we’ll just accept that.

But now finally to the various faces of paprika. At first, I thought of the spice, as it actually smells surprisingly like sweet paprika powder from the shaker within two or three minutes. I find this much more pronounced than the pepper that has mostly been highlighted in previous comments. However, this stuff has seen better days and has become a bit musty. My mother had such a relic in the kitchen cupboard; it was probably used too rarely in the predominantly bourgeois cooking of my childhood and thus became somewhat aged.

The spice contrasts nicely with something cooling. "Green notes" are fine, of course not what one generally imagines. I think of... cucumber? Or - of course! - green pepper. Suddenly it smells like the bulgur salad my wife recently made with ajvar, cucumber, and pepper.

Thirdly, a hint of sweetness appears. Sweet paprika? It completes the paprika trio, which makes me feel quite entertained during the first hour of the scent.

After that, a warming glow takes over. The paprika (which I would still call before the pepper) reveals its spiciness. Underneath, a piercing rubber note forms like a second layer. Black, soft rubber in the sun. An idea of sweet, light, and overtone-rich smoke from a source I cannot identify completes the transformed scent impression. The aforementioned glow recedes already in the second hour, the pepper emerges, it becomes woodier, sharper, and in character, a bit more distant.

The repeatedly mentioned leather associations I can easily understand in the middle part. My favorite colleague even expressed herself accordingly without any prior bias. The pepper spice has calmed down a bit, revealing a rough, dusty patchouli base. For some time now, I have suspected that patchouli and leather sometimes cooperate very closely in terms of scent. Soft, light, rough leather, gently spiced. Fits perfectly.

In the afternoon, a somewhat bland and slightly artificial wood note breaks through. Apparently, the significant part of the scent progression gradually fades away around the fifth or sixth hour. The increasingly banana-like note in the steadily more isolated wood ultimately reinforces this suspicion.

Conclusion: Hmm. Noble. And not unoriginal. At least for about six hours. It doesn’t seem as reduced and static to me as I had feared. I just wish for better longevity of the main part.

I thank Turandot for the sample.