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Oh, Salomé
Of all the creations labeled as "oriental" in name and scent, this is the least authentic in my opinion.
No, I don't want to deny the perfume its Middle Eastern spiciness. The hamon design of the label is also reminiscent of handmade carpets, into which, according to rumors, a small inconspicuous mistake is always woven - as a symbol that humans are fallible and only Allah is infallible.
And on the lid, a flirtatious little bow with a transparent fortune-telling ball. It's somehow too good to be true.
The scent, warmly enveloping, but not suffocating or soporific (coriander, are you still keeping someone awake?), like the anteroom to Sherlock Holmes' opium den, who is dizzy but still quite clear in his sharp detective mind. An oriental dream, dreamed by a true Brit.
Speaking of Brits, it is precisely this aspect that makes this perfume less real-oriental for me and more a fantasy of such a journey: if the fragrance were a song, it would be "Salomé" by British poet Peter Dohery.
《In the morning, shaken and disturbed
From under soft white fur
I see the dust in the morning bright sets the room alive
And by the telly appears Salome
I stand before her amazed
As she dances and demands
... 》
That's why I like wearing Babylon in the office on rainy, foggy days, even though the fragrance has less spicy sillage as a result. It becomes more private and dreamy - like the song lyrics - and brightens my mood. I've also worn it on hot days; and yes, the intensity increases, but becomes too direct for me, the spices becoming sticky and intrusive-false. Salome's bewitching dance loses its mystique, as if someone had turned the spotlight on too brightly. If there was an option here of "just not a summer fragrance", I would probably choose it. I think it's a certain powderiness that manages to blend beautifully with cold foggy weather.
No, I don't want to deny the perfume its Middle Eastern spiciness. The hamon design of the label is also reminiscent of handmade carpets, into which, according to rumors, a small inconspicuous mistake is always woven - as a symbol that humans are fallible and only Allah is infallible.
And on the lid, a flirtatious little bow with a transparent fortune-telling ball. It's somehow too good to be true.
The scent, warmly enveloping, but not suffocating or soporific (coriander, are you still keeping someone awake?), like the anteroom to Sherlock Holmes' opium den, who is dizzy but still quite clear in his sharp detective mind. An oriental dream, dreamed by a true Brit.
Speaking of Brits, it is precisely this aspect that makes this perfume less real-oriental for me and more a fantasy of such a journey: if the fragrance were a song, it would be "Salomé" by British poet Peter Dohery.
《In the morning, shaken and disturbed
From under soft white fur
I see the dust in the morning bright sets the room alive
And by the telly appears Salome
I stand before her amazed
As she dances and demands
... 》
That's why I like wearing Babylon in the office on rainy, foggy days, even though the fragrance has less spicy sillage as a result. It becomes more private and dreamy - like the song lyrics - and brightens my mood. I've also worn it on hot days; and yes, the intensity increases, but becomes too direct for me, the spices becoming sticky and intrusive-false. Salome's bewitching dance loses its mystique, as if someone had turned the spotlight on too brightly. If there was an option here of "just not a summer fragrance", I would probably choose it. I think it's a certain powderiness that manages to blend beautifully with cold foggy weather.