01/06/2021
Marieposa
31 Reviews
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Marieposa
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A balm that has feelers and bites
When the three wise men from the Orient pay their respects in Monty Python's classic "The Life of Brian", gold and frankincense quickly arouse the hospitality of Brian's, shall we say, "rather brittle" mother. The myrrh, on the other hand, is met with as much skepticism as the high visitor before. Even the explanation that it is a valuable balm cannot really convince her. Such a thing could be contagious and she had heard of germs that have feelers and bite. The gentlemen are welcome to drop by any time and leave gold and frankincense, but next time they should rather smear the myrrh in their hair.
As I sniff my wrist, generously scented with Serge Lutens La Myrrh, I realize that I'm much the same as Brian's mother: sure, I can picture gold, and I can easily recall the scent of frankincense from olfactory memory, both in the form of resin and smoke. Myrrh, on the other hand, is a great mystery to me. I've read up that it's a tree resin found primarily in Somalia and is used as a resin or oil for ceremonial and medicinal purposes. So much for the theory. But how does myrrh smell now?
Serge Lutens Myrrh does not provide me with an answer at first, all I can say is that this balm really bites. What I dabbed on my skin, smells namely first of all exclusively after hairspray of the worst kind. I'm talking about the stuff that hasn't been on sale for decades because it destroys the earth's atmosphere, and which I only know because my grandma still keeps leftover stock in the attic. Responsible for this is a salted portion of aldehydes, which I don't even know from Chanel No 5 in this concentration. About fifteen minutes and the aldehydic meteorite hail has subsided, five more minutes and I dare to bring my wrist to my nose again - and what a reward is waiting for me! Iced, airy aniseed cookies, flavored with a hint of bitter almond oil float towards me, paired with a zirtish glow. Am I influenced by the orange color of the perfume, or do I really smell tangerine?
The scent is cool and spicy and silky. A golden glow emanates from it, like unexpectedly seeing a bonfire smoldering in the distance while walking on an icy winter night, without feeling its warmth. All right, if this is how myrrh smells, the three wise men may deposit their stock, spurned by Brian's mother, with me anytime! I can't stop sniffing my wrist. La Myrrh is beguiling! But also demanding, complex, uncompromising, and so rich in contrast that its magic is definitely not for everyone.
Would I wear La Myrrh more often? Oh yes, all the time. A few minutes of hairspray headache I gladly accept for this fragrance. I'd just rather not think about what happens when you make the fatal mistake of spraying instead of dabbing.
As I sniff my wrist, generously scented with Serge Lutens La Myrrh, I realize that I'm much the same as Brian's mother: sure, I can picture gold, and I can easily recall the scent of frankincense from olfactory memory, both in the form of resin and smoke. Myrrh, on the other hand, is a great mystery to me. I've read up that it's a tree resin found primarily in Somalia and is used as a resin or oil for ceremonial and medicinal purposes. So much for the theory. But how does myrrh smell now?
Serge Lutens Myrrh does not provide me with an answer at first, all I can say is that this balm really bites. What I dabbed on my skin, smells namely first of all exclusively after hairspray of the worst kind. I'm talking about the stuff that hasn't been on sale for decades because it destroys the earth's atmosphere, and which I only know because my grandma still keeps leftover stock in the attic. Responsible for this is a salted portion of aldehydes, which I don't even know from Chanel No 5 in this concentration. About fifteen minutes and the aldehydic meteorite hail has subsided, five more minutes and I dare to bring my wrist to my nose again - and what a reward is waiting for me! Iced, airy aniseed cookies, flavored with a hint of bitter almond oil float towards me, paired with a zirtish glow. Am I influenced by the orange color of the perfume, or do I really smell tangerine?
The scent is cool and spicy and silky. A golden glow emanates from it, like unexpectedly seeing a bonfire smoldering in the distance while walking on an icy winter night, without feeling its warmth. All right, if this is how myrrh smells, the three wise men may deposit their stock, spurned by Brian's mother, with me anytime! I can't stop sniffing my wrist. La Myrrh is beguiling! But also demanding, complex, uncompromising, and so rich in contrast that its magic is definitely not for everyone.
Would I wear La Myrrh more often? Oh yes, all the time. A few minutes of hairspray headache I gladly accept for this fragrance. I'd just rather not think about what happens when you make the fatal mistake of spraying instead of dabbing.
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