Tropic of Capricorn Olympic Orchids Artisan Perfumes 2013

It's probably going to surprise a lot of people what I'm going to say I think, but I do it without having read any of the notes:
To me it smells like amber and musky tuberose, with a touch of sea saltiness and I'd say a hint of Hiram Green / Francesca Bianchi-style honey.
In case of having to say anithing about fruits, I only would say a creamy mango.
At times it reminds me of some of the gothic natural extracts of Anna Zworykina of which I am a great admirer, but of course without the darkness of her creations de ella, nor the greenery of the Russian forest of hers.

Tropic of capricorn is a tropical and animalic perfume by olympic orchids. The smell is very sweet and nice. The opening is very intense with a very harsh animalic note but when It fades out It gets a very creamy and fruity vibe. This perfume makes me think of some of Francesca bianchi's perfumes. The most noticeable notes are the animalics, the tropical fruits, the gray amber and the osmanthus. Over all during the dry down i can get a very strong osmanthus scent! This perfume is perfect yo wear during the day on winter or spring, but i can image Simeone wearing It with summer clothes, sat on a terrace near tthe beach having a mojito at evening un summer. The performance is good with long lasting power and strong projection at beggining and after a while becoming like a second skin, noticeable at shot distance but always noticeable. This has been a very good discovering for me!

Scent: 8.5
Longevity: 9
Sillage: 7.5
Quality/price: 7
Versatility: 6
Originality: 9
Global: 9

The Tropic of Capricorn is an interesting name for a perfume. The countries that lie entirely or partially within the Tropic of Capricorn are logically found more to the south. African states, as well as Australia and New Zealand, are included, as are parts of South America. Without looking at the notes, I find the naming fitting because whenever I think of this scent, tropical desserts come to mind that could very well originate from South America or similar places. I have, of course, looked at the ingredients afterward; not all of them, but when I read about New Caledonian sandalwood, I sense that there has been a thoughtful selection. Just to remind you: New Caledonia is near Australia.

Now, I have little idea how individual flowers smell in combination; that is not my area of expertise. I perceive the striking and full-bodied tuberose, which feels somewhat restrained to me and thus more palatable. It seems to me that the frangipani is pushing to the forefront, which is considered intense, fruity, and creamy. I can't help but think of peach fruit milk. This elevates the enchanting scent of the tuberose to another level, making it somewhat more wearable for men. The mango also plays a role here.

Now, there is indeed an animalic undertone that one might not immediately notice. A wild, animalistic note lies beneath the floral composition. Hyraceum, often used as a substitute for musk, triggers this olfactorily. The floral aspect now leans more towards jasmine, becoming more refined. Benzoin, I suspect it's Sumatra benzoin, contributes a certain powderiness without becoming feminine. The jasmine comes across as more herbal than sweet. Nevertheless, Tropic of Capricorn does not completely shy away from it; the vanilla blends in, quite sensual and captivating but not in the leading role. It remains until the end.

As time goes on, the animalic aspect becomes more pronounced without becoming dominant. Well done! A tamed beast, if you prefer not to have too much animalic character, so to speak.
In the further course, the components alternate; sometimes the tuberose is on top, sometimes other elements, but always tinged with the hyraceum. Really well done, and the use of vanilla contributes to this. I can't single out the sandalwood; it probably blends into the tuberose.

I am not very familiar with scents like this, but I almost suspect that this is a truly wearable fragrance for men who usually do not appreciate floral scents, as it leans more towards a herb-fruity profile. The ingredients may be somewhat exotic, but they are balanced. Partially, I feel reminded of Jungle Jezebel for seconds, but more in the overall tone than in relation to the scent itself.

"And now disappear and don't show your face here anytime soon, you shabby rock rat!" the Capricorn bellowed, snorting as he came to a halt right in front of the entrance to his cave, having braked from a full gallop with pounding hooves.
I rolled my eyes. The little brown rodent had long scurried behind the rocks. Besides, I knew full well that it made little sense to say anything when he was in this mood.
"Nobody should be surprised if the mangoes go rotten! And you don't need to pretend you haven't noticed anything. There are those droppings right in front of the door again, and someone has peed in the mulch."
Had I not suspected what would come next, the crazy gleam in his yellow eyes could have almost frightened me. But I suppressed a mocking smile and said as seriously as possible, "It's alright. I'll check if the mangoes have been nibbled," but made no move to get up, instead leaning my head calmly against the mountain of tuberoses.
The Capricorn rose up on his hind hooves, grabbed a broom that was leaning against the cave entrance, and began to sweep with maniacal obsession while I observed from the corner of my eye as a fluffy little face with button eyes and a shiny black snout peeked out from behind the tower of mangoes stacked in the blazing sun.
Maybe the dassie was indeed becoming a bit cheeky, slowly but surely.
I sighed and gathered a handful of wilted tuberose flowers into a bouquet. Then I took a few daring steps towards the Capricorn, took the broom from his hand, and pressed two fingers gently on the spot between his eyes. His nostrils began to tremble softly, and he stretched his leathery lips towards the tuberoses that I had slightly squished with the broomstick.
"You know, when night falls over the jungle and the flying foxes sing in the frangipani trees, all of this here won't matter so much anymore."
My words did not miss their mark, and the Capricorn nudged me lightly as he tried to snuggle his head with his grinding jaws into the crook of my arm. I, on the other hand, suddenly reached for my ear to check if the red champaca flower above it was still in place.
"If you want, you can call me Henry," the Capricorn mumbled shyly. And I sighed a second time.
You are really quirky, Henry, I thought, but I like you.

**

Dr. Ellen Covey is a neurobiologist and holds a professorship at the psychological institute of the University of Washington. She is also dedicated to the professional cultivation of orchids and handcrafts fragrances under the motto "extraordinary perfumes for extraordinary people" from mostly natural raw materials, which in my opinion, despite the versatility of her spectrum, is really nothing more than the logically consistent connection of her areas of interest.
The Ellen Covey fragrances I have encountered so far are all exceptional - and Tropic of Capricorn is no exception as a fruity-floral of a special kind: A sultry blend of tuberose, frangipani, and champaca sets new standards for the term "indolic," while overripe mango and hyraceum provide distinctly tropical accents.
My love for mushy mango and petrified rock hyrax droppings is usually somewhat underdeveloped, but combined with the intensity of the flowers, a completely surreal yet utterly irresistible blend unfolds here that I cannot and do not want to resist. Over time, the fragrance becomes milder, but not necessarily tamer. Osmanthus adds leathery facets and ensures that the animalic notes intensify throughout the duration before the fragrance concludes in a delicious sandalwood-benzoin base.
Tropic of Capricorn is not a wallflower and polarizes strongly, which is why a sparing dosage is recommended. The longevity is above average, even for a natural fragrance.

In researching the name of the fragrance, I came across Henry Miller. A guy who traveled a lot, known in the New Age movement, interested in Nietzsche, oriented his lifestyle towards Buddha and Laozi, wrote, painted, and also played the piano. One of his literary works is called Tropic of Capricorn and contains partly autobiographical passages. I just ordered it because the man knew how to live, was married five times, loved life, food, and sex. All things that drive people and that they talk about.........and he is a Capricorn.

He might not have worn the fragrance, but I believe he would have sniffed it out of curiosity. Because he loved to live, was a hedonist, and open to everything new. Tropic of Capricorn is not for everyone; for some, it’s hard to find beauty in it if they capitulate at the start of the scent, saying, uh, it somehow smells like poop, it’s totally moldy, who wants to smell like that or wear something like this.........
TOC starts sweet and fecal. Hyrax is the excrement of the rock hyrax (Procavia capensis) - thanks, Regina! That’s probably where this fecal note at the beginning comes from. The fruit combined with the rotten water of flowers does the rest, and you need a bit of patience until the full beauty of the fragrance unfolds. Because at some point, you find yourself in a sea of blooming tuberoses, narcotic, captivating, and very sexy. You want to pounce on the one who smells so damn seductive.

Hooked by dear Peter with Top Shelf, through a few drops of Acaciosa in a swap package, Black Tar, Bouquet de Palmyre, The Decay of the Angel, I have now landed in the Tropic of Capricorn, which the lovely Regina gifted me. An exciting journey that has demanded a lot from my nose and has expanded my fragrance horizon once again.