Provenance Tales - Cynefin Rouge Bunny Rouge 2013

Cynefin belongs to the "Provenance Tales," the fragrance line from Rouge Bunny Rouge, which according to the manufacturer's website contains "highly concentrated, exquisite unisex fragrances." This description and the black (at least in the picture) seemingly high-quality bottle actually suggest an intense, somehow mystical, definitely special scent. To get straight to the point, this expectation is not met by Cynefin (what the name is supposed to mean, I unfortunately cannot say) at least for me.

You can read about the brand itself in the next paragraph. For those who have already read another comment of mine about this brand, you can simply skip it, as I have copied the description. This is more for those who just want to read something about a single fragrance.

The brand founded by Alexandra de Montford offers makeup products and also perfume. The products are said to combine opulence with beauty, and romance and uniqueness are the cornerstones of the company's philosophy. With fantastic tales from the Victorian era and royal Tsarism (does the brand actually come from the UK or Russia?), the lost art of storytelling is to be revived. In a Victorian fairy-tale style, magical yet adult narratives are to be conveyed. These "seraphic mysteries" are guarded by a wondrous hare who possesses the key. This explains the strange name.
The products combine craftsmanship with aesthetic implementation and are meant to emphasize natural beauty and timeless elegance. This is what is stated on the brand's homepage.

Freshly sprayed, the scent starts off green and herbaceous. Almost immediately after the start, a metallic undertone also comes into play. I can smell lavender too, but it is rather delicately underlaid. However, what makes me skeptical here is the fact that the lavender (and also the violet leaf absolute, which I can't really pick out) is supposed to be added in OrPur quality.

I first encountered the term OrPur with the Bvlgari fragrances. The saleswoman explained to me back then that this is the purest form of a natural essence, and I accepted it as such. With a price range of 300€/100ml, one can also (rather) believe that natural essences are indeed being used. However, since Cynefin smells very synthetic to me, I looked into it further and found out at Essenza Nobile that the abbreviation stands for "Origin and Purity" and "refers to a technique through which natural fragrance ingredients can be obtained in particularly unadulterated form. Only 100% natural raw materials of the highest quality are used. They are grown and harvested according to strict guidelines in organic farming. Through particularly gentle extraction, 100% natural fragrance substances of the best quality are obtained."

Unfortunately, the scent does not smell natural and high-quality to me; it remains metallic for a long time with a slight hint of lavender. Over time, something chemically undefinable is added, and the scent somehow turns sour towards the base.

The longevity is quite good, and the sillage is moderate; unfortunately, this cannot save the scent in my eyes. The question remains for me: What was attempted here? To combine classic notes like lavender and violet leaf with modern, synthetic fragrance notes to create something new? It may be, but unfortunately, I can relate to it less.

Before I applied "Provenance Tales - Cynefin," I tried to find out the meaning of "Cynefin." And I did it the old-fashioned way: with dictionaries, Duden, and so on. It’s actually faster than using the internet, at least for me. I have everything right here and I’m quick with the alphabet; I used to be a bookseller, after all.
However, I found nothing. So I applied "Provenance Tales - Cynefin." At first, there was something like a stinging gas flame rising, chemical, poison green. Very quickly it became just green-chemical, synthetic. It smelled ozonic, aquatic, like cheap plastic welded together here with heat from time to time, and also a bit like sweat. Here and there it was reminiscent of oxygen welding; I see the blue flame in my mind's eye, the smells also reminiscent of glowing metal. Not even bad. Quite exciting, actually, when you don’t know what it’s supposed to smell like. I felt a bit like I was transported back over 50 years and reminded of experiments in chemistry classes at school. Those were often very enjoyable hours because the teachers had to teach everything back then, but they didn’t understand much about these subjects, for example. And we always found it funny when it smelled odd or stank. Especially since the teachers were so busy, we could make noise and do all sorts of things, a lot of nonsense, copying homework from others for the next classes, for example.
However, here and tonight, I have written down various things. The scent remained as I described. The sillage and longevity are quite intense, I note. But I am also a bit disappointed. Is that all there is? I have had such smells under my nose more often.
Then I went to the fragrance's page and found that the pyramid reads as if it were directly copied from the box of the bottle, partially translated and partially not. I immediately smelled the floral ozone, but without anything floral. Angelica seeds and Davana were supposed to be herbal, fougère. I only smell chemistry. The substances that are supposed to represent lavender and violet leaf only give off a synthetic green smell. The art of making "nature-identical" fragrance substances from such chemicals has not been attempted here. The same goes for the other listed substances.
I wonder what such a fragrance is supposed to tell us users?
Are we to be conditioned to raw chemical perfumes or fragrance designs with substitute materials?
Or is this supposed to be a warning and demonstration of what awaits us in the future - no, wrong - what is to be sold to us as a fragrance? Or better: How it will stink for us? when the regulations for cosmetics and fragrances are standardized worldwide to be compatible with chemical industry plants, sales, and stock market security?
Meanwhile, it smells even more intensely of metal.
I do quite like the smell in metalworking industries, in woodworking industries. I like the smells in the working world. The smell of a shipyard hall has something to it, I think.
And maybe I wear a nice perfume during such a visit because there’s a small reception afterward. I have experienced all of that, just the same.
I don’t have to smell like these places of work and production myself.
Maybe this fragrance is meant to remind us, for example, of the gradually disappearing smells of the producing working world. There aren’t so many of them left in our wealthy world anymore?
But that’s all a bit off-topic.
I have also worked in a meat processing factory - in the office, what else - I can’t even imagine how a perfume would smell that could olfactorily represent that working environment. I could smell it every evening in my clothes and hair. No, it didn’t smell like carrion; it smelled of meat and fat and cleaning agents and sometimes smoke.
Hopefully, I haven’t also provided ideas for perverse fragrances.
I am confused by "Cynefin" and have "lost the plot," so:
In that sense, the designation is correct: Provenance = origin. We are to smell where the fragrances come from, where they originated.
This fragrance is supposed to tell industrial stories in the form of scent. It does so with great longevity and clearly.
And what does Cynefin mean now? I don’t even want to know!