Liquid Illusion Juliette Has A Gun 2018

Sometimes, although rarely, one realizes in that very moment when one finds something that one had been searching for it. Before, one was not even aware of the search. One walked around with a gap of some sort. And one did not notice it. Something was missing, completely unconsciously. Free according to the actually common motto: What one does not know, one cannot miss.
Now I can be quite happy that what I was missing was not something essential like freedom from fear or even love, but something peripheral:

I found my iris scent and only realized in that moment that I had been searching for it.

Iris in fragrances had always been ambivalent for me until now. There was the iris note that I knew from my grandmother's friends. They were really very old, and I was very young at the time, which made them relatively even older. When I smell this venerable note today, these old ladies from my grandmother's skat and poch round appear before my inner eye: gray permanent waves, upright posture, age-marked, knotted-brown, but nimble hands, as they play a card or take a trick with sparkling eyes.
These are beautiful memories that this type of iris evokes in me. But if I were to wear such a scent myself, I would feel disguised and about a hundred years old. So this iris does not work for me.

Then there is iris, often in natural perfumes, often in classics, that smells like liquefied car tires to my nose. This iris note is a bit like the fascination of horror: I have to keep sniffing and discover something wonderful behind the car tires. But unfortunately, it is so overwhelmingly overshadowed by the tire wear that it is hardly perceptible.

Then there is "violet." Now it gets complicated.

Behind "violet," there is usually the scent of the roots of Iris Pallida or Iris Germanica, which through a time-intensive process of maturation and processing become iris butter. Since the scent obtained from the iris roots resembles that of violet flowers, it often appears under this designation in the pyramids.

Nevertheless, I believe I can usually smell a difference, depending on whether "violet" or "iris," or even "iris butter" is listed in today's pyramids.
Most often, "violet" smells more artificial to my nose, only vaguely floral, often less powdery. And when it smells powdery and artificial, it is called "violet leaf."
Après L'Ondée by Guerlain, for example, smells wonderfully of the violet pastilles from the pharmacy to me, but not of what I would classify as "iris." Also, "56 - Violet Powder" by Aura Soma or "Insolence" by Guerlain tend more in this direction.
I like some scents from the violet direction, including those with violet leaf, but to me, they do not smell like my inner conception of "iris."

Liquid Illusion does. Liquid Illusion smells like what I smell behind the car tires, like iris, powdery iris, not like violet, not like violet leaf. Liquid Illusion hits my inner reference of iris. Iris, freed from disturbing factors like car tires or a hundred years of age.

My spontaneous notes a few minutes after the first spray are: "Dream iris! Cooking-dry! Noble and modern, but not cold. Great!"
That is the top note.
In the first tests, the iris seemed to recede and make way in the heart note for a slightly sweet mélange of vanilla/heliotrope/tonka. I still found that pleasant and noble, but no longer as outstanding as the top note. It seemed to me that the iris faded too quickly; I realized that I had been searching for exactly this iris without having known it until now. In the base, a little musk seemed to come in, and the weighting seemed to shift a bit towards tonka, so that the scent ended with a powdery-soft, still slightly sweet tonka-musk foundation.

Now I was uncertain: Should this quickly fading dream iris go on my wish list or not? At that price?

Since I know that the individual perception of scents can change with longer wear, I waited: Would I perceive more or less iris in the long term? Would the musk in the base eventually annoy me, as musk often does?

The development could not have been better: I now smell iris even through the heart note, and the musk recedes more.

Thank you very much, dear Sweetsmell75, for the consequential decant.
Thank you very much, dear little frogs, for the also visually and haptically wonderfully beautiful remaining bottle in the heavy lacquer box.

You have filled my iris gap.