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01/24/2019
FvSpee
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FvSpee
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How beautiful! Something's still growing!
Eulalia means "the beauty speaker" and was probably a quite common woman's name in antiquity. I find the name itself incredibly melodious. Of course - at least in this country - you can't seriously call a girl that, but it's a pity actually. According to the pious overversion, an equally pious teenager of this name was tortured to death for her faithfulness to the Christian faith under the not exactly deeply relaxed Emperor Diocletian (who, however, had the greatness to voluntarily resign and spend his retirement time in today's Croatia, namely in Split). So she became Saint Eulalia, and since the whole thing is said to have happened on the territory of today's Barcelona, the patron saint (among others) of this city.
When the Barcelonesian fabric (and later fashion) shop of the Taberner family, founded in 1843, moved in 1859 to an address directly on the site of the execution of the young saint, it became, according to the company's history, the "Santa Eulalia fashion shop", and this is how it is still called today and now produces exclusive men's and women's fashion for the international clientele. And because this has been the custom of fashion brands for a long time, Santa Eulalia in Spain (still, at least, Spain and not Catalonia, as some would have preferred) is now treating themselves to a series of company fragrances.
Nubes is, thanks to the generosity of Angua, the first fragrance of this brand that I was allowed to test, and he actually had what it takes to make me like him, if not love him. I like the name, the interesting story, the simple bottle and the list of ingredients.
It started out pretty good, too: At first we meet a very polite and urban, somewhat reserved orange in front of a creamy, perhaps also somewhat spicy background, and after a few minutes we turn off to other-fruity regions (at first I thought of pineapple, but the peach from the list is coming), whereby the whole thing still presents itself very unobtrusively and yes, all the time here and there a small cup, perhaps more of a thimble, full of green teas pops up every now and then.
After one hour the flowers turn up, which after two hours have spread out into a carpet of flowers, which is occasionally (quite funny) scratched a little peppery; all in all, however, it still seems to be enormously creamy dimmed, like under a veil of white; I get the impression "inhibited power", there is flower power, yes, but it doesn't get through this diffuse milky-creamy mass at all
Over time, this cotton wool then becomes so sticky and obstructive that it really energizes me; I become literally irritated and ill-tempered, and am too nervous to feel any individual scents, in addition to a diffuse sweetness, in the midst of this vault (that is to say, "nubes"), which is increasingly becoming a chemical-synthetic cloud of horror. After all, my olfactory nerves only perceive the scent weakly after about five hours, for which I am thankful, whereas the generally finer and probably especially sensitive nose of my wife Nubes for this scent still perceives it at this time as heavy, room-filling and almost breathtaking and even after almost 18 hours still perceives it in remnants
I took this experience as an opportunity to read something about cashmeran, which is supposed to be contained in this fragrance. This synthetic fragrance should impress softly, fluently and smoothly and embed the other fragrances so to speak softly and at the same time give them a basis; it should also have spicy and sweet aspects - you can read about it elsewhere. For me the description fits to what I had to experience here, and so my suspicion diagnosis reads, whereby I am absolutely no ecofanatic with smells:
Overdose of cashmeran. Or: An accident at the chemical plant with the exit of a huge pool of sticky-white cuddly molluscs, which biocidally ensures that where once there were flowering meadows, only a meagre orange, a few small flowers, a tea tree and a half dead pepper bush sometimes stick their heads through the mass
Addendum: If you think away the creamy embrace, the fragrance resembles Byredos "Bal d'Afrique" extraordinarily. This thought came to my mind, and it is confirmed when I look at the fragrance pyramid: citrus on top, flower in the middle, musk vétiver amber wood below. However, if the ball of Africa appears minimalistic and fragile, drawn with a very fine stroke, often barely perceptible and thus of a peculiar cheerfulness, this work first applies a thicker layer here, but then again hides the (relative) opulence under veils. I'm not really convinced.
When the Barcelonesian fabric (and later fashion) shop of the Taberner family, founded in 1843, moved in 1859 to an address directly on the site of the execution of the young saint, it became, according to the company's history, the "Santa Eulalia fashion shop", and this is how it is still called today and now produces exclusive men's and women's fashion for the international clientele. And because this has been the custom of fashion brands for a long time, Santa Eulalia in Spain (still, at least, Spain and not Catalonia, as some would have preferred) is now treating themselves to a series of company fragrances.
Nubes is, thanks to the generosity of Angua, the first fragrance of this brand that I was allowed to test, and he actually had what it takes to make me like him, if not love him. I like the name, the interesting story, the simple bottle and the list of ingredients.
It started out pretty good, too: At first we meet a very polite and urban, somewhat reserved orange in front of a creamy, perhaps also somewhat spicy background, and after a few minutes we turn off to other-fruity regions (at first I thought of pineapple, but the peach from the list is coming), whereby the whole thing still presents itself very unobtrusively and yes, all the time here and there a small cup, perhaps more of a thimble, full of green teas pops up every now and then.
After one hour the flowers turn up, which after two hours have spread out into a carpet of flowers, which is occasionally (quite funny) scratched a little peppery; all in all, however, it still seems to be enormously creamy dimmed, like under a veil of white; I get the impression "inhibited power", there is flower power, yes, but it doesn't get through this diffuse milky-creamy mass at all
Over time, this cotton wool then becomes so sticky and obstructive that it really energizes me; I become literally irritated and ill-tempered, and am too nervous to feel any individual scents, in addition to a diffuse sweetness, in the midst of this vault (that is to say, "nubes"), which is increasingly becoming a chemical-synthetic cloud of horror. After all, my olfactory nerves only perceive the scent weakly after about five hours, for which I am thankful, whereas the generally finer and probably especially sensitive nose of my wife Nubes for this scent still perceives it at this time as heavy, room-filling and almost breathtaking and even after almost 18 hours still perceives it in remnants
I took this experience as an opportunity to read something about cashmeran, which is supposed to be contained in this fragrance. This synthetic fragrance should impress softly, fluently and smoothly and embed the other fragrances so to speak softly and at the same time give them a basis; it should also have spicy and sweet aspects - you can read about it elsewhere. For me the description fits to what I had to experience here, and so my suspicion diagnosis reads, whereby I am absolutely no ecofanatic with smells:
Overdose of cashmeran. Or: An accident at the chemical plant with the exit of a huge pool of sticky-white cuddly molluscs, which biocidally ensures that where once there were flowering meadows, only a meagre orange, a few small flowers, a tea tree and a half dead pepper bush sometimes stick their heads through the mass
Addendum: If you think away the creamy embrace, the fragrance resembles Byredos "Bal d'Afrique" extraordinarily. This thought came to my mind, and it is confirmed when I look at the fragrance pyramid: citrus on top, flower in the middle, musk vétiver amber wood below. However, if the ball of Africa appears minimalistic and fragile, drawn with a very fine stroke, often barely perceptible and thus of a peculiar cheerfulness, this work first applies a thicker layer here, but then again hides the (relative) opulence under veils. I'm not really convinced.
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