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03/10/2019
Meggi
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Meggi
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32
An Englishman in Rome
"An American in Paris" is an orchestral composition by George Gershwin, composed in 1928 after a stay in Paris (youtube.com/watch?v=zi0ENw-JlUI). I remembered the title of the piece, because after the performance of 1# Nota di Viaggio I thought I was dealing with an Englishman in Rome. A very concrete Englishman...
A bit of something fresh is deceptive, something ethereal, like the smell of an aniseed lollipop perhaps, pepper is not enough for it. Before I can find out more, a gush of rose geranium rolls up on a patchouli carpet rolling out in no-decompression time - with a force that I had not expected and that I have to work through before I can turn back to the accompanying freshness. I am now thinking of eucalyptus and that was also the spontaneous (and independent) idea of my favourite colleague. Pepper still isn't enough for that. In addition, biting hints of eugenol, something from the clove corner, might be involved. Strong.
And for a few minutes, this geranium-eugenollic creaking takes me back to Columbia Road in London, where I took her "Artillery No. 4 - Vetivert" with me in Angela Flanders' cute shop. 1# actually reminds me of the Londoner in the front (but a little bit more bitchy). A good fragrance that doesn't deserve to have only two poor owners on Parfumo.
The astonishing resemblance disappears quickly, however, as a veil of green and mildly sweet fruit begins to cushion the Italian. At best, a touch of winegrowing and cheesy feet suggests the thought of the bergamot indicated; in my opinion, very ripe mandarin fits better. Anyway, it's just an approach anyway.
Soon cautious balsamic notes will help to tame the roughness further. A serious vanilla with a caramel flavor, whose mellifluousness has an extraordinarily Italian effect on me. Her creamy sweetness dampens the sharpest edges. Parallel, concise patchouli penetrates, earthy-sour. In the following time it becomes the predominant aroma. Not as an adversary; rather, it moderately embeds the scratchy and spicy of the vanguard into its own appearance, in order to finally follow the new, discreetly cream-milder line, without, however, being at least disenfranchised. Genuine sovereignty shows itself here in a relaxed togetherness. "So eat..." whispers the vanilla with a wink.
And then a while is standstill. When la bella figura is finished, the aim is to preserve its appearance. And the same is of great elegance: Strong, rough aspects, to which deep dark, earthy, nutty vetiver(!) has now been added directly on the skin, are just broken by our trace of creamy, vanilla, caramel sweetness and - I am not sure of it - a minimal floral twist.
Around noon the remaining scratchy aromas become a hunch, which still occasionally blows suddenly around the nose, while a balsamic-vanilla layer clearly predominates directly on the skin. It remains dark, serious and mature. In the course of the afternoon, the fragrance fades without losing its character and profile. Only in his old days - it has become very quiet - does he finally counter the discreet cream with a relative vetiver emphasis. Does anyone think of London from afar? I'll do it!
Probably a Londoner would or would allow much more Rome than an American would allow Paris. Gershwin's jazzy piece does not kidnap the unbiased listener in life to Paris. Although the composer even added (allegedly original French) taxi flutes to the round of instruments, the task of which is a kind of horn concerto, the work is thoroughly American. I don't think they can help it. The Italian enamel in 1# Nota di Viaggio "may" do much more, namely assimilate the London contribution from my personal little memory completely south.
Conclusion: I like the fragrance very much. The fact that it is rather pithy than fine at the start surprisingly does not detract from the elegance. Perfect especially for darker types with a well-groomed three-day beard. I might have to stretch a little. But great stuff. Only the Orient story around it should be forgotten.
I thank Gerdi for the rehearsal.
A bit of something fresh is deceptive, something ethereal, like the smell of an aniseed lollipop perhaps, pepper is not enough for it. Before I can find out more, a gush of rose geranium rolls up on a patchouli carpet rolling out in no-decompression time - with a force that I had not expected and that I have to work through before I can turn back to the accompanying freshness. I am now thinking of eucalyptus and that was also the spontaneous (and independent) idea of my favourite colleague. Pepper still isn't enough for that. In addition, biting hints of eugenol, something from the clove corner, might be involved. Strong.
And for a few minutes, this geranium-eugenollic creaking takes me back to Columbia Road in London, where I took her "Artillery No. 4 - Vetivert" with me in Angela Flanders' cute shop. 1# actually reminds me of the Londoner in the front (but a little bit more bitchy). A good fragrance that doesn't deserve to have only two poor owners on Parfumo.
The astonishing resemblance disappears quickly, however, as a veil of green and mildly sweet fruit begins to cushion the Italian. At best, a touch of winegrowing and cheesy feet suggests the thought of the bergamot indicated; in my opinion, very ripe mandarin fits better. Anyway, it's just an approach anyway.
Soon cautious balsamic notes will help to tame the roughness further. A serious vanilla with a caramel flavor, whose mellifluousness has an extraordinarily Italian effect on me. Her creamy sweetness dampens the sharpest edges. Parallel, concise patchouli penetrates, earthy-sour. In the following time it becomes the predominant aroma. Not as an adversary; rather, it moderately embeds the scratchy and spicy of the vanguard into its own appearance, in order to finally follow the new, discreetly cream-milder line, without, however, being at least disenfranchised. Genuine sovereignty shows itself here in a relaxed togetherness. "So eat..." whispers the vanilla with a wink.
And then a while is standstill. When la bella figura is finished, the aim is to preserve its appearance. And the same is of great elegance: Strong, rough aspects, to which deep dark, earthy, nutty vetiver(!) has now been added directly on the skin, are just broken by our trace of creamy, vanilla, caramel sweetness and - I am not sure of it - a minimal floral twist.
Around noon the remaining scratchy aromas become a hunch, which still occasionally blows suddenly around the nose, while a balsamic-vanilla layer clearly predominates directly on the skin. It remains dark, serious and mature. In the course of the afternoon, the fragrance fades without losing its character and profile. Only in his old days - it has become very quiet - does he finally counter the discreet cream with a relative vetiver emphasis. Does anyone think of London from afar? I'll do it!
Probably a Londoner would or would allow much more Rome than an American would allow Paris. Gershwin's jazzy piece does not kidnap the unbiased listener in life to Paris. Although the composer even added (allegedly original French) taxi flutes to the round of instruments, the task of which is a kind of horn concerto, the work is thoroughly American. I don't think they can help it. The Italian enamel in 1# Nota di Viaggio "may" do much more, namely assimilate the London contribution from my personal little memory completely south.
Conclusion: I like the fragrance very much. The fact that it is rather pithy than fine at the start surprisingly does not detract from the elegance. Perfect especially for darker types with a well-groomed three-day beard. I might have to stretch a little. But great stuff. Only the Orient story around it should be forgotten.
I thank Gerdi for the rehearsal.
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Saradonin
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