Encre Noire Lalique 2006 Eau de Toilette

It's cool and gloomy today. A still undecided October morning that, when the haze turns into high fog, can also unfold into one of those bright late autumn days.
Most of the bushes and trees have already got rid of their copper and amber color and the shabby foliage covers the meadow with a brown-spread patchwork carpet.
From the window of my (witch) kitchen in the deep priory I have a wonderful view from the mole's perspective into our garden.
I wear Encre Noir and watch the smart black (Corvus corone) and black and white (Pica pica) hiding and eating a ration of peanuts. Too few years ago I decided to treat these birds not as mere nest robbers and troublemakers, but as the other songbirds in our garden.
They are no longer driven away, can help themselves to the feedlots and feast on plums and apples. There are nuts for them, surplus (or even extra) boiled eggs and occasionally a chicken collar and tails.
My way of looking at things has changed and I have discovered beautiful, fascinating creatures. "Now she is talking about her birds again, well, if she isn't a tit" some people will think, not without reason.
I wear Encre Noir The fragrances are monothematic.
Cypress, vetiver, cashmere.
Smoky, dark, black.
The plumage of a raven crow is monochrome.
Without recognizable drawing, even by the more inclined observer at best titled as bourgeois tailcoat.
Dull, dark, black.
If you give the seemingly dark fellows just a little bit more than casual attention this can be very enlightening.
An unexpected ray of sunshine makes the feathers, which were just dull, with accents in deep violet and shiny green-gold, change into the blue of Damascus steel.
Black painting in the most iridescent colours. **
I wear Encre Noir It is illuminating into which spectra vetiver is refracted Bergamot flares up, herbaceous-green, still dewy lemon monarde.
Shimmering smoke of lignified sage stalks, carelessly thrown onto the blazing garden fire.
The resinoid stickiness of a juniper berry freshly ground between the fingers and the soft seasoning of well-dried larch wood. The tobacco aroma that was attached to my grandfather's handkerchief. A highlight of bitter cocoa perceived in some patchouli.
The coolness of long shadows on a sunny late autumn day.
A shimmer of graphite when sharpening a good pencil and the brittle vanillin of a decade-old book. ***
This perfume scatters all these refractions and spreads out before me like iridescent black wings.
The eau de toilette was tested on my skin, my long-suffering favourite sweater, and stylistically on a crow's feather (a moulting feather from a free-living bird, of course). On my skin, the fragrance developed most quickly and short-lived, with the smoky tones being the main ones. On fabric the durability was much better and the earthy, patchouli-like components dominated. On the feather, the citrus and resin reflexes were brilliant, and the overall progression was more moderate and persistent. No hooked course of development, more
the even up and down of large wings. I find it fascinating how dazzling it looks despite its dark base. Encre Noir is a fragrance which, just like crows, polarises. The beauty lies, as always, in the eye (or nose) of the beholder.
To the sex assignment: Also raven ladies carry black!
* a book by Johanna Romberg
** borrowed from Helmut Peters
*** here speaks probably the chimera of Cashmeran to me
***** comment without meaningful, to a test or purchase decision leading, fragrance description