12
Top Review
Candied Powerhouse
When a sacred dark fusion smells like it does in this case, one can either passionately criticize the quirky naming or simply enjoy the fragrance. It indeed starts off rumbly (without the h), but cleverly disguises overly tipsy tendencies with secondary notes. Sniffing out the sweet orange is still relatively easy - possibly because it complements the rum aromas with fruity lightness. I can hardly pinpoint the herbal-citrus notes, but after all, a "fusion" is being served; at least in this regard, the fragrance lives up to its name.
Regardless of this opening, it is the caramelization of the ingredients that shapes the scent journey: A delicately spiced sugar melt floats as a leitmotif in the bouquet, enveloping its various companions with a sweet, quite edible candied quality and enhancing the honey-warm tuberose aromas. The fact that the coffee makes at best a subtle appearance benefits the composition. Otherwise, it might olfactorily land too close to an afternoon gathering with pastries and a good cup of Viennese melange - an association that is indeed quite tangible (and thus at least avoids the foamy Starbucks variant with a pre-packaged cake counter).
Otherwise, "fusion" is again the theme here. Even the spice-scented clove, which usually has a very specific aroma, blends into the scene in the best patissier manner, without breaking into Christmas carols. "Fusion sacrée obscur" remains true to its concept and is so far a thoroughly successful gourmand-sweet charmer.
That the fragrance, despite all its power, does not drift into the cardboardy is thanks to the smoky resins, which unobtrusively but perceptibly provide the aromas with space to unfold, both scattering and binding them, thereby achieving the feat of keeping the caramelization flowing.
In the end, however, the cream cake wins. This is due to the massive bombardment with all sorts of other sweet stuff: Sweet-smelling wood shavings, especially amber and vanilla, condense into a creamy consistency that seemed smoky just moments ago. Figuratively speaking, creamy-sweet lava eventually crawls over the skin; only occasionally do bubbles form on the viscous surface. When they burst, they still emit pleasantly resinous smoke, infused with vanilla-soaked caramel and all sorts of other things that have either been perfectly 'fused' or (and this is my wicked theory) ultimately stand no chance against the sweet overkill.
The most astonishing thing about "Fusion sacrée obscur" for me is the fact that I have just described a fragrance that usually makes my neck hairs stand on end: Very gourmand and undeniably sweet, almost sugary on top of that. However, the urge to wash it off does not arise; instead, I find myself sniffing again and again, even though I am searching in vain for both darkness and the sacred. For that, I experience an exceptionally successful composition that - in this regard (!) not unlike "Oud safe the King" - literally whets the appetite.
Regardless, I will not wear this fragrance; a sugared sarungal would feel overly costumed. However, getting to know "Fusion sacrée obscur" was a great pleasure, from which I have been able to draw for a long, very long time during our three test encounters so far: The longevity is indeed extraordinarily good. The same goes for the sillage: It has impact and candied effortlessly in passing, which is no small feat.
My thanks go to Palonera for the unsolicited donation in the best sense - and to Bertrand Duchaufour, who has created a rather convincing sweet 'stinker' with "Fusion sacrée obscur." Anyone who appreciates this fragrance direction cannot miss out on a test!
Regardless of this opening, it is the caramelization of the ingredients that shapes the scent journey: A delicately spiced sugar melt floats as a leitmotif in the bouquet, enveloping its various companions with a sweet, quite edible candied quality and enhancing the honey-warm tuberose aromas. The fact that the coffee makes at best a subtle appearance benefits the composition. Otherwise, it might olfactorily land too close to an afternoon gathering with pastries and a good cup of Viennese melange - an association that is indeed quite tangible (and thus at least avoids the foamy Starbucks variant with a pre-packaged cake counter).
Otherwise, "fusion" is again the theme here. Even the spice-scented clove, which usually has a very specific aroma, blends into the scene in the best patissier manner, without breaking into Christmas carols. "Fusion sacrée obscur" remains true to its concept and is so far a thoroughly successful gourmand-sweet charmer.
That the fragrance, despite all its power, does not drift into the cardboardy is thanks to the smoky resins, which unobtrusively but perceptibly provide the aromas with space to unfold, both scattering and binding them, thereby achieving the feat of keeping the caramelization flowing.
In the end, however, the cream cake wins. This is due to the massive bombardment with all sorts of other sweet stuff: Sweet-smelling wood shavings, especially amber and vanilla, condense into a creamy consistency that seemed smoky just moments ago. Figuratively speaking, creamy-sweet lava eventually crawls over the skin; only occasionally do bubbles form on the viscous surface. When they burst, they still emit pleasantly resinous smoke, infused with vanilla-soaked caramel and all sorts of other things that have either been perfectly 'fused' or (and this is my wicked theory) ultimately stand no chance against the sweet overkill.
The most astonishing thing about "Fusion sacrée obscur" for me is the fact that I have just described a fragrance that usually makes my neck hairs stand on end: Very gourmand and undeniably sweet, almost sugary on top of that. However, the urge to wash it off does not arise; instead, I find myself sniffing again and again, even though I am searching in vain for both darkness and the sacred. For that, I experience an exceptionally successful composition that - in this regard (!) not unlike "Oud safe the King" - literally whets the appetite.
Regardless, I will not wear this fragrance; a sugared sarungal would feel overly costumed. However, getting to know "Fusion sacrée obscur" was a great pleasure, from which I have been able to draw for a long, very long time during our three test encounters so far: The longevity is indeed extraordinarily good. The same goes for the sillage: It has impact and candied effortlessly in passing, which is no small feat.
My thanks go to Palonera for the unsolicited donation in the best sense - and to Bertrand Duchaufour, who has created a rather convincing sweet 'stinker' with "Fusion sacrée obscur." Anyone who appreciates this fragrance direction cannot miss out on a test!
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7 Comments
Sounds good and I have to test it....a little trophy for the gentleman :-))