Aesthete Le Galion 2015

About a year ago, I requested a sample of Aesthete from Le Galion, as I found the mix of frankincense and castoreum
in Aigner's Silver so spectacular and was curious whether this interplay could also occur in other fragrances in a similar way.
Castoreum-infused frankincense, so to speak. I was not quite prepared for what came next. Cherry-fruity, bright red leather, spreading oily on the dusty dry
asphalt floor. Straightforward, unembellished, absolutely compact. Cherry and leather. Somehow unsettling, also because both seemed to resemble each other and came off as so artificial. It was clearly too sweet for my spontaneous perception. So I hoped for a somehow favorable development, which did not occur. The fragrance molecules found their firmly established form without any detours and remained. I had never noticed anything so direct in any other fragrance (and certainly not in Aigner), and I was a bit disappointed, as I had expected a complex, masculine scent (like Aigner).
Aesthete, on the other hand, came across as rather uncharming. How did that fit with the name?
I had thus fallen for my own trap and had to realize that nothing in the world is as it seems.
However, a certain fascination remained. Since I am now writing perfume reviews, one cannot always take the easy path. I took
the little jar in one hand and carefully distributed small drops on the back of the other.
Somehow, I had to penetrate to this 'aesthetic spirit'.
A plus point of my current olfactory equipment was having already encountered Etro's Gomma, which presented me with a completely new type of leather that I also recognized in Aesthete. Rubber-like. Lacquered. Sexually slightly charged.
With the right woman, I thought, it would be delightful to share cherries.
What I overlooked, however, and failed to recognize in my greed for traditional nuclear scent bombs, was that the strictness of the fragrance concept
had deceived me into thinking there was a calm center where a very gradual development was taking place.
I too had probably not shone with particular sensitivity. Suddenly, the fragrance did not seem so off-putting to me anymore.
It still did not extend its hand to me, remaining distant. But it allowed me a glimpse into an exclusive sphere that is relatively unfamiliar to me.
A vernissage came to mind or a Cannes after-show party. Fashion designers. Androgynous youths and sculptures.
Karl Lagerfeld or Vivienne Westwood? I am not quite sure. Both would certainly have the maturity and the certain claim, as well as the otherworldly quality, of a unique creation. Perhaps an up-and-coming young star. In any case, nothing for sweatpants wearers or capitalist pigs. One must like aromatic cherry nectar. And slow, dry red wine.
And after the long party? If one wishes, the castoreum will come. But one can also stay in bed in a dark red velvet pajama and ponder artificial life worlds until one's eyes close.