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10/18/2020
Kovex
12 Reviews
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Kovex
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53
Pigeonhole thinking - the end of the line
I like difficult scents. Fragrances that don't want to give away the broad spectrum of sensations they trigger. Fragrances that you have to work for. Fragrances that show new facets from time to time, changing and challenging between the poles. Which seem to call out to me: I only reveal my qualities when you have got to know me better. What these perfumes have in common with me is usually the unknown, never before smelled. The range of the first impression is enormously large. So not every one of these fragrances necessarily triggers the desire to test it a second time.
Tambour Sacré starts quite differently than the indicated top notes would suggest. Since I like to categorize fragrances into colors, the contents of the bottle or its color reflects exactly what I smell: brown, here bitter, bulky and completely unusual. The drawer thinking already ends here, because I can't think of any fragrance note that could be responsible for what I smell. What might have been disturbing during the first tests turns out to be a desire to have it over and over again after being worn several times and reminds me of situations in life that one does not want to see, does not want to experience and yet has to stare at it again and again in fascination, although one does not want to.
I understand if the scent is initially a deterrent to one or the other. The disgust reflex is ultimately located in the limbic system of our brain. It's also where emotions and urges are processed. There where scents can touch or disgust us. If the smell is linked to a memory, this can quickly lead to a sensation that is no longer neutral, which counteracts the attempt to objectively assess the smell. Tambour Sacré, however, has such a new effect on me that I can get involved with it completely uninfluenced.
The bitterness runs very gently and carefully during the first half hour, leaving room for a light brown unsweetened mocha note that will determine the fragrance for the next few hours. Here I clearly differentiate between dark black coffee and this unsweetened mocha note here, which skilfully absorbs the bitter beginning, rounds it off and makes it smoother. Comparisons to other authentic coffee scents such as Akro's Awake or Mancera's Aoud Café are hardly possible here, because while the aforementioned ones are more reminiscent of food, to be precise, of sugared instant coffee, Tambour Sacré eludes this categorization and wants to score with natural-looking, but not too present coffee aromas that are beyond the association with a hot drink.
This may also be due to tuberose, which appears here at best in homeopathic dosage and gives the fragrance more depth and volume. A slight fleshiness, but without the typical floral notes of tuberose, adds a touch of animalism, which gives the fragrance additional tension. And here it is again: the fascination of the unknown, the desire to process, sort and put in drawers these new fragrance impressions. But it may not succeed, Tambour Sacré does not fit into any drawer.
In the course of the next few hours it will gradually become more pleasant, warmer and milder. A tiny pinch of cinnamon and an at best implied sweetness hardly noticeably creep in. Light dry woods, only hinted at, because the aroma of the coffee beans, which are also lightly roasted, remains for me for a long time.
The bottle is the simple and common model used by many smaller niche brands, differing only in the cap. A nice detail is the outer packaging made of two Iroko wood shells, which is quite rare and only found in the tropical part of Africa, including Ethiopia (the manufacturer assures that it was made exclusively from recycled wood).
Tambour Sacré - it is also the holy drums of Ethiopia that Cristiano Canali wants to bring us closer to with his fragrance. A land full of strange smells of spices and woods, whose smoke differs from the local scent of burnt wood, adding nuances, readjusting sensations.
Who would have thought that the Tambour Sacré is becoming increasingly conciliatory, and after many hours of playing it still reveals a sensual side, which still has something different in it, as if you were sharing a bed with a stranger.
This is exciting, although it is already lusting to spray again to enjoy these wonderfully bitter first minutes. No, Tambour Sacré is not easy and it does not fit into one of my drawers. What remains is the fascination of the unknown and the knowledge that I have found a fragrance that is beyond the usual taste.
Tambour Sacré starts quite differently than the indicated top notes would suggest. Since I like to categorize fragrances into colors, the contents of the bottle or its color reflects exactly what I smell: brown, here bitter, bulky and completely unusual. The drawer thinking already ends here, because I can't think of any fragrance note that could be responsible for what I smell. What might have been disturbing during the first tests turns out to be a desire to have it over and over again after being worn several times and reminds me of situations in life that one does not want to see, does not want to experience and yet has to stare at it again and again in fascination, although one does not want to.
I understand if the scent is initially a deterrent to one or the other. The disgust reflex is ultimately located in the limbic system of our brain. It's also where emotions and urges are processed. There where scents can touch or disgust us. If the smell is linked to a memory, this can quickly lead to a sensation that is no longer neutral, which counteracts the attempt to objectively assess the smell. Tambour Sacré, however, has such a new effect on me that I can get involved with it completely uninfluenced.
The bitterness runs very gently and carefully during the first half hour, leaving room for a light brown unsweetened mocha note that will determine the fragrance for the next few hours. Here I clearly differentiate between dark black coffee and this unsweetened mocha note here, which skilfully absorbs the bitter beginning, rounds it off and makes it smoother. Comparisons to other authentic coffee scents such as Akro's Awake or Mancera's Aoud Café are hardly possible here, because while the aforementioned ones are more reminiscent of food, to be precise, of sugared instant coffee, Tambour Sacré eludes this categorization and wants to score with natural-looking, but not too present coffee aromas that are beyond the association with a hot drink.
This may also be due to tuberose, which appears here at best in homeopathic dosage and gives the fragrance more depth and volume. A slight fleshiness, but without the typical floral notes of tuberose, adds a touch of animalism, which gives the fragrance additional tension. And here it is again: the fascination of the unknown, the desire to process, sort and put in drawers these new fragrance impressions. But it may not succeed, Tambour Sacré does not fit into any drawer.
In the course of the next few hours it will gradually become more pleasant, warmer and milder. A tiny pinch of cinnamon and an at best implied sweetness hardly noticeably creep in. Light dry woods, only hinted at, because the aroma of the coffee beans, which are also lightly roasted, remains for me for a long time.
The bottle is the simple and common model used by many smaller niche brands, differing only in the cap. A nice detail is the outer packaging made of two Iroko wood shells, which is quite rare and only found in the tropical part of Africa, including Ethiopia (the manufacturer assures that it was made exclusively from recycled wood).
Tambour Sacré - it is also the holy drums of Ethiopia that Cristiano Canali wants to bring us closer to with his fragrance. A land full of strange smells of spices and woods, whose smoke differs from the local scent of burnt wood, adding nuances, readjusting sensations.
Who would have thought that the Tambour Sacré is becoming increasingly conciliatory, and after many hours of playing it still reveals a sensual side, which still has something different in it, as if you were sharing a bed with a stranger.
This is exciting, although it is already lusting to spray again to enjoy these wonderfully bitter first minutes. No, Tambour Sacré is not easy and it does not fit into one of my drawers. What remains is the fascination of the unknown and the knowledge that I have found a fragrance that is beyond the usual taste.
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