11/12/2020
FvSpee
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Sketch at dawn
I was supposed to like Fougère L'Aube. The bottle, label and color of the fragrance (judging by the photo) are all very pleasing to me. The name is pretty. I like cracking fougères. I have a weakness for small tinkering brands. Yatagan, Floyd, Killer Bee and Profumo gave 8 or more. I had already speculated that the fragrance might fill the void that will arise when I (soon) have used up the last remnant of my beloved and coldly adjusted clay fougères.
Unfortunately, after I finally got my hands on a sample of the not easily obtainable scent (thanks to the donor), it turned out differently: Especially in the first one or two hours I only want to run away. The swaths of camphor are so biting and quasi-synthetically stinging that I wonder if they are not rather swaths of explosive ordnance. The green and earthy chords come to me as wet, wet notes of musty, damp foliage in the transition to composting. Oily-resinous-sticky impressions, not in the sense of fresh spicy tree resin (amber in statu nascendi), but in the sense of clearer varieties, do not make it better.
In the further process the scent relaxes and my tension headache, which is clearly exacerbated by the scent. Fougère L'Aube becomes milder, rounder, almost a little sweet and camomile-soft. It is then approximately to be addressed as a beautiful scent, but not as the tart Fougère I had expected.
The word 'l'Aube is likely to have three main meanings in French: The shovel (of a paddle steamer or similar), the alb (the white robe of a catholic priest) and the dawn. The latter was certainly meant here to evoke the humid freshness of this time of day. I also find dawn apt, but rather because of the word "horror" and because I feel like firing dueling pistols at this scent in the early morning.
Unfortunately, after I finally got my hands on a sample of the not easily obtainable scent (thanks to the donor), it turned out differently: Especially in the first one or two hours I only want to run away. The swaths of camphor are so biting and quasi-synthetically stinging that I wonder if they are not rather swaths of explosive ordnance. The green and earthy chords come to me as wet, wet notes of musty, damp foliage in the transition to composting. Oily-resinous-sticky impressions, not in the sense of fresh spicy tree resin (amber in statu nascendi), but in the sense of clearer varieties, do not make it better.
In the further process the scent relaxes and my tension headache, which is clearly exacerbated by the scent. Fougère L'Aube becomes milder, rounder, almost a little sweet and camomile-soft. It is then approximately to be addressed as a beautiful scent, but not as the tart Fougère I had expected.
The word 'l'Aube is likely to have three main meanings in French: The shovel (of a paddle steamer or similar), the alb (the white robe of a catholic priest) and the dawn. The latter was certainly meant here to evoke the humid freshness of this time of day. I also find dawn apt, but rather because of the word "horror" and because I feel like firing dueling pistols at this scent in the early morning.
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