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09/15/2021
Profumo
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Profumo
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19
Under the wings the wooden planks of a ship
Actually, 'Albatros' combines a few things I've been tired of for years: a watery-ozone prelude in the style of the copied-to-death 'Cool Water', a rose that can be safely counted among the usual - and tiring - suspects (is there actually a fragrance without a rose anymore?), a pineapple, which I inevitably associate with 'Aventus' (Satan give way!), and a double pack of cedar, which instantly reminds me of 'Terre d'Hermès', which I have encountered over the years to such an extent that I can literally "no longer smell it".
Oddly enough, I still like 'Albatross'.
But something resists in me against it.
If I spray the fragrance on, I fluctuate instantly between horror and enthusiasm. Had I not liked the previous fragrance 'Orlo' from the Versi series so incredibly well, would not again Anne-Sophie Behaghel responsible for the new, she who created not only the fantastic 'Orlo', but the no less great 'Le Mat' for the same brand, or also 'Lacrima' and 'Phantasma' for Liquides Imaginaires, all these advance laurels would not have spoken for 'Albatros' - I would not have ordered the fragrance 'blind' under any circumstances, certainly not in the knowledge of the notes that are supposed to characterize it.
But, the signs were good for the sympathetic bird, because who does not like him, this heartwarming clumsy king of the sea airs, this "rois de l'azur" or "prince des nuées", as Baudelaire calls him?!
In addition, I got the opportunity to acquire him in advance, so that I let all resolutions my already much too extensive collection not to further enlarge, once again drive.
I could have been warned.
With Aquatik I do myself namely heavy, very heavy. This is probably due to the already mentioned 'Cool Water' & Co. overkill, which reverberates to this day even in the remotest corners of the functional perfumery.
On top of that, I bought a fragrance some time ago without testing it beforehand (for the same reasons as with 'Albatros', only this time the brand is called Parfumerie Particuliere), namely 'The Saint Mariner'.
When I had this fragrance then on the skin, I was somewhat stunned: Dihydromyrcenol, but so full, plus a good portion of rosemary and fresh, green-gum-like vetiver. Everything was right, everything had its place and its justification, was perfectly calibrated and blended - and yet smelled so incredibly ordinary.
Since I still find it hard to believe that from a house, which after all gave birth to 'Black Tar', and which also managed the rest quite decently, such a banal fragrance comes, I have made it a habit to spray me this strange work for weeks now and then. There must be something to 'Saint Mariner', that the owners of this company, which after all calls itself a 'special' perfumery, have found him worthy of decorating their own portfolio!
But what?
I think I'm slowly getting behind it.
And actually 'Albatross' has helped me.
Some of the 'Saint Mariner' DNA can be found in 'Albatross'.
Fortunately, however, a little more. If the Saint Mariner is a thoroughly ozonic-maritime fragrance, the 'rois de l'azur' adds floral, fruity and woody facets to the seemingly related construct. And it does so in a way that is breathtakingly skillful - everything flows seamlessly into one another, despite the richness of contrast: the distinctly aquatic-salty, ozonic opening, which washes over a bouquet of roses and a sliced unripe pineapple with surging spray, and reverberates in a silvery-bright, almost mineral cedar accord, to which some cashmere wood and a hint of musk add body.
It is interesting that the roses, and likewise the pineapple in the heart so not at all smell like rose and the typical fruit nuances. Rather, their aromas merge with the maritime waves to an idiosyncratic metallic-bitter melange, which initially irritated me a bit, because it did not meet my expectations of the scent of a rose and a pineapple so at all.
Mendittorosa points in a footnote as follows to the special nature of this rose accord: "The rose accord is a composition of various natural and synthetic rose notes, which was developed by Anne Sophie Behaghel for Albatros."
Aha.
I assume, since a synthetic component has already been so explicitly referred to here, that it could possibly be rose oxide, which in itself brings a metallic facet. In any case, in the interplay with the ozonic aquatic develops a rather exciting power center in the heart of the fragrance, from which the bird with its overlong wings receives proper lift and which lets him glide long and leisurely.
This pair of opposites is what makes the fragrance fly: salty aquatics here and fruity accented rose there, and under the wings a forest of cedars, or as in the poem: the wooden planks of a ship.
I must say, the longer I spend with 'Albatross', the more I like it, and my initial skepticism visibly begins to give way to a growing admiration for this amazing fragrance.
It doesn't quite reach the exceptional quality of its predecessor 'Orlo' for my sensation, but at least almost. In any case, it is more interesting to me than the somewhat arbitrary 'Ithaka', the first fragrance from the Versi series, which in itself is also not bad, but has far less personality and sophistication.
And Anne-Sophie Behaghel gives a bit of satisfaction to the harried albatross from Baudelaire's poem here: namely, her albatross is not teased by a ship's crew who caught him earlier, and who now make fun of his drooping wings and awkward gait, he who just moments before was plowing so loftily through the air. No, her albatross may fly unimpeded, like the poet in the poem who is friendly to the storm and laughs at the archer.
So much for the inspiration from Baudelaire's poetry, which - I think - was successfully implemented.
Since I have now apparently actually reconciled with the disturbing Aquatik, I should perhaps give the holy sailor yet another chance.
I think I'll do that.
Oddly enough, I still like 'Albatross'.
But something resists in me against it.
If I spray the fragrance on, I fluctuate instantly between horror and enthusiasm. Had I not liked the previous fragrance 'Orlo' from the Versi series so incredibly well, would not again Anne-Sophie Behaghel responsible for the new, she who created not only the fantastic 'Orlo', but the no less great 'Le Mat' for the same brand, or also 'Lacrima' and 'Phantasma' for Liquides Imaginaires, all these advance laurels would not have spoken for 'Albatros' - I would not have ordered the fragrance 'blind' under any circumstances, certainly not in the knowledge of the notes that are supposed to characterize it.
But, the signs were good for the sympathetic bird, because who does not like him, this heartwarming clumsy king of the sea airs, this "rois de l'azur" or "prince des nuées", as Baudelaire calls him?!
In addition, I got the opportunity to acquire him in advance, so that I let all resolutions my already much too extensive collection not to further enlarge, once again drive.
I could have been warned.
With Aquatik I do myself namely heavy, very heavy. This is probably due to the already mentioned 'Cool Water' & Co. overkill, which reverberates to this day even in the remotest corners of the functional perfumery.
On top of that, I bought a fragrance some time ago without testing it beforehand (for the same reasons as with 'Albatros', only this time the brand is called Parfumerie Particuliere), namely 'The Saint Mariner'.
When I had this fragrance then on the skin, I was somewhat stunned: Dihydromyrcenol, but so full, plus a good portion of rosemary and fresh, green-gum-like vetiver. Everything was right, everything had its place and its justification, was perfectly calibrated and blended - and yet smelled so incredibly ordinary.
Since I still find it hard to believe that from a house, which after all gave birth to 'Black Tar', and which also managed the rest quite decently, such a banal fragrance comes, I have made it a habit to spray me this strange work for weeks now and then. There must be something to 'Saint Mariner', that the owners of this company, which after all calls itself a 'special' perfumery, have found him worthy of decorating their own portfolio!
But what?
I think I'm slowly getting behind it.
And actually 'Albatross' has helped me.
Some of the 'Saint Mariner' DNA can be found in 'Albatross'.
Fortunately, however, a little more. If the Saint Mariner is a thoroughly ozonic-maritime fragrance, the 'rois de l'azur' adds floral, fruity and woody facets to the seemingly related construct. And it does so in a way that is breathtakingly skillful - everything flows seamlessly into one another, despite the richness of contrast: the distinctly aquatic-salty, ozonic opening, which washes over a bouquet of roses and a sliced unripe pineapple with surging spray, and reverberates in a silvery-bright, almost mineral cedar accord, to which some cashmere wood and a hint of musk add body.
It is interesting that the roses, and likewise the pineapple in the heart so not at all smell like rose and the typical fruit nuances. Rather, their aromas merge with the maritime waves to an idiosyncratic metallic-bitter melange, which initially irritated me a bit, because it did not meet my expectations of the scent of a rose and a pineapple so at all.
Mendittorosa points in a footnote as follows to the special nature of this rose accord: "The rose accord is a composition of various natural and synthetic rose notes, which was developed by Anne Sophie Behaghel for Albatros."
Aha.
I assume, since a synthetic component has already been so explicitly referred to here, that it could possibly be rose oxide, which in itself brings a metallic facet. In any case, in the interplay with the ozonic aquatic develops a rather exciting power center in the heart of the fragrance, from which the bird with its overlong wings receives proper lift and which lets him glide long and leisurely.
This pair of opposites is what makes the fragrance fly: salty aquatics here and fruity accented rose there, and under the wings a forest of cedars, or as in the poem: the wooden planks of a ship.
I must say, the longer I spend with 'Albatross', the more I like it, and my initial skepticism visibly begins to give way to a growing admiration for this amazing fragrance.
It doesn't quite reach the exceptional quality of its predecessor 'Orlo' for my sensation, but at least almost. In any case, it is more interesting to me than the somewhat arbitrary 'Ithaka', the first fragrance from the Versi series, which in itself is also not bad, but has far less personality and sophistication.
And Anne-Sophie Behaghel gives a bit of satisfaction to the harried albatross from Baudelaire's poem here: namely, her albatross is not teased by a ship's crew who caught him earlier, and who now make fun of his drooping wings and awkward gait, he who just moments before was plowing so loftily through the air. No, her albatross may fly unimpeded, like the poet in the poem who is friendly to the storm and laughs at the archer.
So much for the inspiration from Baudelaire's poetry, which - I think - was successfully implemented.
Since I have now apparently actually reconciled with the disturbing Aquatik, I should perhaps give the holy sailor yet another chance.
I think I'll do that.
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