Oh, ooOoh ...oh (mist, wood, wind and guitar) Miller et Bertaux 2012

impossible not to appreciate this olfactory work of art. Sober, elegant and refined. Suitable for every occasion. For every day or for the office it will be that touch that revives the senses. Elegant precisely because it does not have an atomic trail that fills the room. If you are looking for a fresh and elegant perfume, this is just right for you. Buy it!

Juniper is a hard note to pin down in perfumery, whether it be wood or berry. Here, I've run into one of the more accurate depictions, crisp and sappy, bitter and fresh. This is accented with a bitter orange that brings out the naturally citric quality of juniper, further highlighted by herbaceous mugwort. All of the piquant, dry woodiness is spared from the heavy handedness of Iso E Super: it's here, but it's just a pinch.

As the opening simmers down I smell sprigs of thyme imbued with a subtle trace of smoke, and sticky sap grows more resinous and musky. A-ha! Cistus absolute, its sweet, vegetal funk a smell to behold, ingeniously carrying the juniper into the dry down. There's the crunchy aroma of walnut and a whiff of flaxen grasses, and then most of the herbal grassiness slowly vanishes and what's left a slightest creosote phantom remains.

The name is goofy, but I'll forgive that.

A herbal-dark citrus opening unfolds, behind which the sweet part of tarragon can already be sensed as a hint. However, the green direction is merely suggested, as soon a fresh orange note spreads, not loud but present, balanced between citrusy and fruity.

A soapy hint wafts through the scent - until after ten minutes a sugary-woody note now drives me out of the morning bathroom. The cleanliness aspect was itself only an illusion.

Gradually, a lifelike fir emerges, even the bitter-resinous smell of cut greenery has been hit in just the right dosage. And although it becomes sweeter and more sugary throughout the morning, there remains a bitter undertone that does the scent good. The smoky aspect plays a subordinate role in contrast.

Various opinions have pushed Oh-undsoweiter into the warmer season. I don't find that necessary; for me, the scent definitely fits just as well on a gloomy autumn day. It certainly does not develop the dotted-winter behavior of Goutal's Nuit Etoilée, but it can definitely be a bit autumnal-misty.

Although Oh-undsoweiter can primarily be considered a sugary fir-amber scent, the orange holds on for a long time. Even after a good three hours, it is still perceptible on the skin. The aforementioned bitter undertone now has me pondering its origin. Could it be cannabis? I’m not familiar with that; during choir retreats, we just drank, maybe occasionally smoked a standard cigarette. Nothing else.

As the morning progresses, I increasingly align myself with the already expressed vetiver hypothesis. Whether it is actually vetiver remains to be seen, but it certainly feels that way, and around noon, a distinctly noticeable fresh-green-woody note has become a significant player. An enjoyable interplay begins, as the fir-amber-sugary part retains its supporting role. Along with a creamy-white incense aura. Everything is more refined than wild and less natural than before. I think zero about a cowboy by the campfire. Perhaps it’s the polished, subtly East Coast-embellished type in a white shirt and gray vest from the bar scene in "Once Upon a Time in the West." He first comes into the picture while washing himself. Later, he has to shoot the handcuff chain through Cheyenne. It is clear that he is much cleaner than the bandit, but he cannot hold a candle to him in terms of Wild West suitability (which he undoubtedly desperately needs).

In the late afternoon, to give the vetiver idea the final twist, even earthy-nutty aspects can be imagined directly on the skin. Of course, still equally alongside the conifer.

Conclusion: An attractive, robustly refined, undoubtedly rather masculine scent.

I thank Mokka for the sample.

I don't know what thoughts and associations arise in the minds of the inclined readership when reading a drawn-out "Oh, oooh - oh..." but I confess: mine were certainly not suitable for young audiences or print.
Even before I had taken a look at the pyramid, my eyebrows shot up towards my hairline, the switch of my mental cinema flipped, and images and entire sequences flickered across my inner screen, where the actors devoted themselves to activities that - well, let's say: are certainly not suitable for young audiences.
Ashes on my head.
That was certainly not what Miller et Bertaux had in mind when they commissioned "Oh, ooOoh ...oh" (the correct placement of all those "O"s is an art in itself!) - the fragrance was meant to be wild-romantic and grounded, a folk ballad, wistfully strummed on an old guitar by the smoking campfire in the evening.
Pure cowboy romance.
At least that was the intention - but sometimes the offspring becomes independent and goes further than its creators had actually envisioned...

Whatever "Oh, ooOoh ...oh" was supposed to embody: this fragrance is undeniably masculine.
Damn masculine.
The bright, hesperidic, completely unsweetened opening cannot deny that.
For a few seconds, it gives the impression that we are dealing with a kind of cologne, a cheerful summer water, as clear and innocent as the liquid in the small container in front of me on the table.
But one should not be deceived by that - just a few moments later, herbaceous-green notes emerge and transform the early morning orange grove into a late afternoon herb garden.
Very quickly, "Oh, ooOoh ...oh" loses its somewhat naive character, matures in the blink of an eye, and develops a dark, woody spiciness, strong and stable like a warm, broad shoulder.
A bit of smoke mixes in - and voilà, there he sits by the campfire, our lonely cowboy, alone with himself, his thoughts, and his guitar!
It's cool there, but not cold - moss and cedar lighten the dark atmosphere and maintain a latent green freshness, emphasized by distinctly highlighted juniper.
A little later, a body-warm, increasingly dominant leather note joins in - the cowboy's saddle or his chaps.

Up to this point, "Oh, ooOoh ...oh" follows the expectations and guidelines more or less obediently - but then the fragrance cuts the puppet strings and reveals its darker, deeper nature.
Every touch of green, every ray of light extinguishes - I would wager quite a bit that among the woods is that sparkling, balsamic-spicy, non-bitter oud that is also found in "Testostérone" by Sentifique.
On my skin, there is a very clear similarity between these two fragrances, which announces itself in the heart note of "Oh, ooOoh ...oh" and continuously increases towards the base.
Animalic-dark, woody-spicy, extremely masculine, and almost indecently erotic, yet more subdued in its presence than "Testostérone" and thus more wearable in everyday life - a fragrance for urban cowboys whose dark, wild soul has eluded any attempt at domestication.
And for the women who have always wanted a cowboy as a man.

The name of the perfume (too much schnapps by the campfire?) might lead one to not take it seriously. A fun water?
Completely off the mark, dear folks!

Transparent, bright, herb-cool, later the scent becomes woody-warm, casually elegant, somehow quite different, but damn well wearable.
This "O" is for me a very adult scent.

I perceive it as very masculine, but it can certainly also be worn by women.

In earlier tests some time ago, I needed several sprays to get a good and lasting impression. Yesterday, two or three were enough to accompany me all day. The longevity is absolutely satisfactory.

Not a real cowboy scent, but there is a hint of saddle to be sniffed out later on.