Emerald Reign House of Sillage 2012

We know it, we are aware of it: The more and the more intensely we engage with fragrances over the course of a perfumer's life, the more often we inevitably experience a "There was something - I know you!" when encountering a new scent that first touches our skin yet feels as familiar as an old friend.
It is not a spitting image, not a twin or a clone; it does not resemble it from beginning to end - usually, there are similarities, points of overlap, reminiscences of a great name from which a lesser-known one, it is hoped, benefits.
Not infrequently, the younger one is also cheaper, a bit simpler in expression and structure - a quote, but not yet a statement.
For the first time, I now experience the reverse case: A perfume, clearly younger than its olfactory alter ego, yet by no means more modest in appearance and with a distinctly confident price.

It took two or three breaths, then the kinship was clear: The not-so-small, wild beast with sharp claws had already crossed my path in "L'Eau d'Ambre" by L'Artisan Parfumeur.
There, it had still been hidden behind minty-light green, waiting, lurking, concealing its true nature, which is resinous and scratchy, dark, heated, wild.
And sexy, so very sexy.
A little dirty, only seemingly tamed, the power dialed back, almost brittle, controlled.
A true Ellena - grand and strong and powerful, yet never loud and clumsy, only seeking effects.

Mark Buxton makes the beast even bigger, even wilder in his "Emerald Reign" - no light-fresh soft opening warns me, strictly dark-bitter resin is immediately present.
No purring, no roaring - the beast has retracted its claws, seems relaxed yet fully alert in its aromatic-warm spiciness, which carries the heat of an entire long summer, its days and especially its nights.
Hot skin, rumpled sheets, the last shower a few hours ago.
The exhaustion of the aftermath, already the sparkle of what came before shines in its gaze.
Lustful, rough, and impetuous - and yet also holding, embracing, gentle.
Dark, tropical vanilla caresses beloved skin, tenderly, almost carefully, and yet still serious, mature, ripe.
And strong - so very strong.
Just one spray, distributed here and there and everywhere, surrounds me the whole long day, the night, and even in the morning still.
I dare not think what more would do - I am sure it would be too much for me.

PS: Franfan - thank you!