A Nulle Autre Pareille Parfums Sophiste 2012

Yesterday's visit to the Global Art of Perfumery fair was my opportunity to discover a brand completely unknown to me until now: Parfums Sophiste. I was particularly taken by the concept of translating mythological figures and legends into fragrances.
Since an early trip to Greece, I have been fascinated by Greek mythology. André Strelzoff's brief scent descriptions evoke memories: my little brother and I seeking shade in the sweltering heat while our father tirelessly and relentlessly explores the ruins of Delphi. Our mother, trying to sweeten the endless waiting and make more "archaeological excursions" appealing. I see myself sitting under an olive tree on the steps of the amphitheater while she tells us the adventures of Hercules, Zeus, Athena, Aphrodite, and other deities or demigods. Her eloquent, vivid narratives captivate me. I aspire to Athena's wisdom and strength while Aphrodite's loves and "drama" leave me cold. Accompanied by the stories and travels of my childhood, I want to study archaeology or cultural studies later on. It will become more down-to-earth (business administration), but the childhood and youth travels are not entirely forgotten, as I decide to additionally study sinology after a trip to China.

But now back to the scents of Sophiste. Since the discovery happened quite late (just before the fair ended), I didn't have the chance to give all the presented fragrances equal attention. However, I was particularly drawn to Sculpteur d'Amour and surprised by Guillotine. At home, I got to try "A nulle autre pareille." It's actually not at all my scent orientation. I enjoy floral fragrances very sporadically. Ambered, woody-spicy scents are more my area of expertise. But as my passion for fragrances grows stronger, my "testing spectrum" widens. So today, I have taken ANAP as my olfactory research object.

Parfums Sophiste describes the scent as the divine embodiment of woman. The perfume is supposed to convey timeless femininity and endless beauty. Charm, sensuality, tenderness, innocence, and vulnerability are the attributes of the ideal woman according to the French-Russian fragrance brand. Personally, I must say upfront that this perfume does not reflect the ideal woman for me. It lacks depth and extravagance. The olfactory embodiment of the ideal woman (assuming such a thing exists, which I believe is a very subjective concept) has more woody, smoky, and ambered facets for me. A certain innocence and vulnerability are part of it, but ultimately she is above all sensual, strong, and unique. That is my personal opinion.

So I try to perceive the scent far from this predetermined concept. As soon as I spray the fragrance, I am overcome by the feeling of having landed headfirst in a mimosa bush. I feel like a human bee, just awakening from a deep intoxication, still honey-drunk. Pollen sticks to me everywhere. Yes, this evocation is indeed sensual. This bee is located in southern regions. More precisely, in Provence. And now, childhood memories are awakened again. I am on my first "individual" trip with the family of my then best friend to Provence, specifically to Bormes-les-Mimosas where her aunt owns a holiday home. There are plenty of mimosa bushes in this area, hence the name of the little town. This trip will also be the occasion for my first visit to Grasse. At my (polite and enthusiastic) urging, we will take a trip to the famous perfume city. There, my passion for fragrances will also be ignited.

As I indulge in memories and write these lines, the scent accompanies me and envelops me in a honey-mimosa cloud. I believe I can only faintly perceive the other components. At the very beginning, there was a hint of freshness that did not reveal itself to my nose as basil (I love this herb above all) but rather like fresh garden mint. White rice dipped in musk caresses my skin. It reminds me of the body scrub from Kenzoki Sensuel. During in-house spa days, I felt like I was wrapped in fluffy-light rice pudding, a very sensual, culinary-olfactory experience. I don't really believe I can discern spices. But lily of the valley accompanies the scent journey along with other white flowers that otherwise smell relatively constant like honey-soaked mimosas.

I am torn between spring and summer feelings, between the present and the past. Even though I rarely wear floral perfumes, I really enjoyed this olfactory time travel.

Evening addendum: the scent has developed into a discreet skin scent, the floral splendor has diminished. Only the honey and the white musk are still frolicking here.