11/29/2018
Ttfortwo
40 Reviews
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Ttfortwo
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16
Minus and minus make plus.
I'm really a Lehman fan. I admire the immovable toughness, yes, stubbornness, with which the house defends itself against all sorts of visitations of the fashions rotating in ever shorter cycles and - hopefully for a long time to come - rides properly with them.
But by far not all Lehmann-Tüft please me also.
Lehmann's vanilla, for example, should please friends of the sweet gourmand coconut cream pudding vanillas very well, it is harmoniously composed and butter-soft - a sweet little darling - and very durable, alone: For me it doesn't work at all, coconut is one of my showstoppers and the whole thing is much too sweet, much too edible for me. No, my vanilla isn't.
Even less do I like the sandalwood EdP. I find it really difficult; on the border to unbearable even. Mr. vSpee's association of the industrial sawmill is also mine. The summer before last, on the occasion of an open day, I was able to take part in a guided tour of a bio-energy company where domestic woodcuts are burned and energy is generated. Huge trucks unload root bales weighing tons every minute and woodcuts that cannot be used in any other way. All of this is then pre-sorted in a hall of truly impressive dimensions and shredded or shredded by meter-long saws to be transported on a tangle of conveyor belts to screening and sorting plants and then on to incineration. There's a hell of a lot of noise and it smells. It smells of sawdust, charred wood, hot metal and hot machine oil - it is a fascinating olfactory cacophony.
And that's exactly what I smell in the first half hour of Lehmannschen Sandel. In addition to this coarse and rough woodcut sawdust machine oil drone, there's a heavy medical note (Wick VapoRub?) on top of it that I like even less.
Only in the second half hour the fragrance gradually settles. The machine oil note loses itself almost completely until the beginning of the second hour and now - and only now - I am able to recognize something that reminds me of other sandalwood notes known to me.
This is "method perfuming", very independent, very uncompromising - with an extremely high recognition value. Would I only have to rate the originality: A 10, without question.
But: I don't really want to smell that way, the entry grade is too crass and too stubborn for me, too pine-needy, too medically ethereal and beyond that it has far too much endurance for me.
And so here are two I can't be with. The cream pudding coconut vanilla and the coarse and growling sandal. Then why do I actually own these two?
Well, dear Gelis has given me a sample of one of her own Lehmann blends, which I find incredibly fine and which consists primarily of these two, sandalwood and vanilla (plus some powdery floral scents).
And indeed: These two fragrances, one of which is unbearably rough and tart for me and the other butter biscuit-sweet, result: A soft spicy mixture a little outside my usual sweet horizon, but so harmonious, so wam and so tenderly beeswax-sweet that I can hardly stop sniffing at it.
Well, well, well: Minus and minus sometimes result in a big plus even with fragrances.
But by far not all Lehmann-Tüft please me also.
Lehmann's vanilla, for example, should please friends of the sweet gourmand coconut cream pudding vanillas very well, it is harmoniously composed and butter-soft - a sweet little darling - and very durable, alone: For me it doesn't work at all, coconut is one of my showstoppers and the whole thing is much too sweet, much too edible for me. No, my vanilla isn't.
Even less do I like the sandalwood EdP. I find it really difficult; on the border to unbearable even. Mr. vSpee's association of the industrial sawmill is also mine. The summer before last, on the occasion of an open day, I was able to take part in a guided tour of a bio-energy company where domestic woodcuts are burned and energy is generated. Huge trucks unload root bales weighing tons every minute and woodcuts that cannot be used in any other way. All of this is then pre-sorted in a hall of truly impressive dimensions and shredded or shredded by meter-long saws to be transported on a tangle of conveyor belts to screening and sorting plants and then on to incineration. There's a hell of a lot of noise and it smells. It smells of sawdust, charred wood, hot metal and hot machine oil - it is a fascinating olfactory cacophony.
And that's exactly what I smell in the first half hour of Lehmannschen Sandel. In addition to this coarse and rough woodcut sawdust machine oil drone, there's a heavy medical note (Wick VapoRub?) on top of it that I like even less.
Only in the second half hour the fragrance gradually settles. The machine oil note loses itself almost completely until the beginning of the second hour and now - and only now - I am able to recognize something that reminds me of other sandalwood notes known to me.
This is "method perfuming", very independent, very uncompromising - with an extremely high recognition value. Would I only have to rate the originality: A 10, without question.
But: I don't really want to smell that way, the entry grade is too crass and too stubborn for me, too pine-needy, too medically ethereal and beyond that it has far too much endurance for me.
And so here are two I can't be with. The cream pudding coconut vanilla and the coarse and growling sandal. Then why do I actually own these two?
Well, dear Gelis has given me a sample of one of her own Lehmann blends, which I find incredibly fine and which consists primarily of these two, sandalwood and vanilla (plus some powdery floral scents).
And indeed: These two fragrances, one of which is unbearably rough and tart for me and the other butter biscuit-sweet, result: A soft spicy mixture a little outside my usual sweet horizon, but so harmonious, so wam and so tenderly beeswax-sweet that I can hardly stop sniffing at it.
Well, well, well: Minus and minus sometimes result in a big plus even with fragrances.
9 Comments
Ohdeberlin
