Zeitgeist J.F. Schwarzlose Berlin 2013

//Translation in progress

Salida a algas, natural, como si fuera muy verde, como cortándolas, quizás demasiado. Se intuye algo de mirto por detrás, aunque no es un actor principal como en Acqua di sale.

El golpe inicial se calma rápido y se suma el ámbar gris que viene detrás, no creo que sea natural, pero tampoco es ambroxan, tiene un toque oscuro, yo la veo en un punto intermedio entre Acqua di sale y Megamare.

El olor es evocador, no es de tipo usable como perfume como AdiSale o Sel Marin, más bien tipo pintar un paisaje olfativo como Megamare, mientras que esta me transportaba a un pueblo de la costa, Zeitgesist es como un paseo por la playa un día nublado saturado de algas, no en el mal sentido, pero es la menos me ha gustado de las 4, aun así nada terrible, simplemente que a mí no me ha cautivado.

De salida va razonablemente bien de potencia, pero cae rápido , muy rápido, llegando a las dos horas empieza a perder la gracia, y queda una mezcla deconstruida con un algas ya no perfiladas, un poco de ámbar gris, y un fondo de almizcle. Luego este fondo sí se queda varias horas más en la piel.

When you try the scent, the crystal clear waters of Berlin unfold before your eyes.

Its greatest feature is the overwhelming "texture of water" brought to the forefront by marine notes and algue absolute (seaweed). Its salty scent, which cannot be simply described as "refreshing," coexists with a certain urban coolness.

The woody amber base lends modern depth to the aquatic scent. The unique saltiness and transparency brought by caron and algue evoke the feeling of standing alone by a pristine body of water, even amidst the hustle and bustle of the city.

This highly intellectual fragrance embodies both the cool beauty of the city and the primordial purity of water.

Names are supposed to be an omen. But with some names, instead of a possible "omen," I think more of the less agreeable "Damien" from the horror film "The Omen," which premiered on cinema screens around the world in 1976 (and was, as far as I remember, remade in 2006). And speaking of "horror," we are already on the topic:

I find it terribly wonderful when the creator of a fragrance sets a theme that he then consistently follows through (including the inevitable advertising campaign) with the highest quality ingredients. To name just one (in my opinion outstanding) example: The fragrances from the Frédéric Malle collection represent an uncompromising execution of this endeavor. You don’t have to want to wear "Musc Ravageur," but it is nonetheless an uncompromising masterpiece.

This is all the more true as one can indeed find death among the shelves of mainstream perfume chains. And I mean death from boredom in light of the prevailing "one-word names" that scream at you from even more unimaginative packaging: "Buy me and not the other! We smell identical, but I have the cooler name!"

What times those were when these shelves were primarily dominated by Dior's "Eau Sauvage" and Chanel's "Antaeus." With just a hint of the former, the members of a caravan in the Gobi Desert, who had not had anything to drink for several days, would undoubtedly stop complaining about thirst.

And the latter?
I also can't say exactly how this demigod in Greek mythology smelled. Undoubtedly, he would have smelled like Chanel when defeating his opponents. What a delightful thought.

But what names do we read instead? "Wild," "Adventure," or even just any nonsense with the addition "Homme"!

Conversely, however, some manufacturers seem to have done themselves no great favors with the chosen name (and the casually implied theme) of their work: While I generally mentioned the Frédéric Malle editions as a commendable example, one can certainly (with all love for this outstanding fragrance) question whether the name "French Lover" was really necessary. I am tired of having to justify myself as the bearer of the name of this fragrance to perfume novices when they ask about this wonderful scent. Although: A young lady recently reacted very understandingly to the mention of the (at best ambiguous) name of my fragrance. However, I could not find out what her fragrance was. Perhaps she was wearing Nasengold's "G." and just didn't want to discuss a possible combination of "French Lover" and her "G-spot." This, especially since I clearly showed no interest in exploring her "G-spot."

Or let’s take Nasomattos ("China White" and "Black Afghano"): Do we really have to quote half of the narcotics law in our collection by name?

What does all this have to do with our candidate "Zeitgeist" and its (of course again inevitable) marketing campaign?
A lot!!!
Because: "Zeitgeist" does not stand for just any spirit. Not in the sense of the castle ghost "Hui Buh," who, while haunting annoyingly at night, looks at the clock and enjoys the freshly acquired perfume. No, the fragrance is supposed to capture the zeitgeist of Berlin and represent it, so to speak, in a single spray. Football fans may just at this moment start singing "Berlin, Berlin, we smell like Berlin." But I wonder if, in choosing the name and the accompanying marketing campaign, a "own goal" was scored in the "olfactory DFB Cup final," to stay in the picture.

So: I have decided to free myself from the big footsteps of its name and, of course, from the outcome of the not-so-distant DFB Cup final when evaluating this fragrance.

So what does our candidate smell like?
Yes, I smell algae. Algae in Berlin? The Mediterranean would have to overflow its banks quite a bit for the residents of this vibrant metropolis to be olfactorily present. But we wanted to move away from the topic of "Berlin"...

What else do I smell? Indeed: I can detect some amber and a hint of musk, which gives "det Janzem" some depth. It is not a "dirty" (in the sense of: animalic) musk. Rather, it is clean, but definitely (in the best sense) brittle enough to ground the aquatic notes associated with the algae in the service of depth.

What else do I smell? Not much! The Tasmanian elm indicated in the "fragrance pyramid" seems to be more of a "false elm" for me as well. Emphasis on "false."

According to the linearly indicated fragrance pyramid, I also do not recognize much of a fragrance development: "Zeitgeist" remains unchanged with me for a few hours. Then it becomes "quieter" and eventually disappears completely.

But now to the question I have been dreading all along: Can one recognize this fragrance - blind testing - as a qualitatively high-quality and innovative niche product from just this mass of countless "mainstream candidates"? Or would one even consider it the seemingly millionth imitation product of the once equally groundbreaking and aquatic "Cool Water"? The answer must be given by each person for themselves. For my part, I like the people from "Schwarzlose Berlin" (and Berlin, of course). And precisely because of that, I fear the answer to this pressing question that I must give myself...

That Schwarzlose is known for fragrances outside the mainstream is now common knowledge, although one might also be inspired by the marketing promises of the Berlin perfumers, giving these fragrances a chance to make an unusual impression...

ZEITGEIST is already a wonderfully elastic term. Berlin is big. Is it the spirit of Prenzlauer Berg, Kreuzberg, the government district, or the good old Charlottenburg? Is it the fashion and art scene, the pub and subculture in contrast to the modernized facades of the luxury shops in Mitte? The Turkish greengrocer, the quintessential Berlin pub owner, the grumpy taxi driver, the owner of the vegan café? Probably a bit of everything, because all of this is part of the spirit of today's Berlin.

In any case, I expect a loud, even shrill and jarring interpretation. Ingredients as contrasting as the Berlin scene districts with their diverse cultural circles. Colorful and bold like the fashion of the small private labels. I expect a scent that jumps at me, that excites and polarizes. And I count on a powerful sillage that makes all of Berlin turn around to look at me.

With these expectations, I apply my sample to my skin and am overwhelmed in the opposite sense - by NOTHING. OK, by almost nothing. Has my nose failed, am I olfactorily blind and dusty at the same time? No, a second and third test yield no different results.

ZEITGEIST is a weak little water that hardly reflects what the fragrance pyramid promises: Top note: Amber, Peru balsam, algae - Heart note: Musk - Base note: Woods

A fresh sweetness can be felt, a hint of aquatic, the algae (aha!), then the sweetness becomes a bit deeper. The whole thing is absolutely subtle, and I have to get my nose very close to my skin to even perceive the scent. Even though I must concede a certain longevity to the delicate fragrance, it does not reach my immediate environment.

Strangely, the fairy tale of 'The Emperor's New Clothes' flits through my mind. Should one celebrate ZEITGEIST because the creators put so much thought into the scent?

Quote from Schwarzlose:
"An exciting new creation: it embodies the contrasting richness of the present and its sensual opposites. A conglomerate of sexiness, freshness, changeability, and avant-garde."

And at ALzD one can read:
“Our time is characterized by constant change. What was valid yesterday is already outdated today. Technology and modern communication have made our world smaller. All information is simultaneously present around the globe and thus gains global relevance.
A time of extremes: extreme exploitation of nature is contrasted by extreme efforts to behave ethically. We seek variety, intense feelings, adventure - and at the same time inner peace, idyll, and the here and now.
This zeitgeist is also reflected in Berlin - the capital and birthplace of the company J.F. Schwarzlose. Berlin is the city that never rests, that is constantly changing, the city of cultural diversity, the city of history and the future. Here, opposites constantly collide: free spirits and traditionalists, strict architecture and wasteland, concrete and wildlife. It consists of countless people who stay only for a certain time, and lives off those who have finally arrived in Berlin.”

To be honest: I did NOT smell THAT!

There's really not much more to say about it. But okay, maybe there is.

I find the algae scent in the top note takes some getting used to, but it's not disturbing. Rather, one is surprised, thinking that if it stays like this, it might not be wearable after all. But Zeitgeist develops quickly, so that the Leatherwood dominates and the scent reminds me of freshly creamed soft skin. Zeitgeist doesn't smell as strong as other products from the traditional perfume manufacturer J.F. Schwarzlose Berlin (yes, the reissue of the Berlin classic drugstore company J.F. Schwarzlose Söhne). But for those who find Trance too sweet, or who are looking for a scent in the context of modernity and tradition, they should get to know Zeitgeist; they should give ZEITgeist some TIME to unfold its splendor….