
loewenherz
89 Reviews
Translated · Show original

loewenherz
Very helpful Review
18
The summer king
Celtic mythology and folklore - and the popular (trivial) literature based on it - are familiar with the motif of the so-called summer king. In spring, a young man is chosen - either voluntarily or without being asked, depending on the story. The best food is then served to him for a summer, he is dressed in the most precious clothes and the most beautiful, untouched girls are brought to him, again voluntarily or not. After this summer full of idleness, abundance and gluttony, however, the youth is sunk in the moor for the sake of the gods' favor. Next spring, a new youth is chosen and the game begins anew.
The product cycle for light summer fragrances is somewhat similar: the new freshnesses are usually introduced in late winter - and sometimes push the old ones to the lower shelves. Tanned models pose with them in front of southern backdrops, and we know that summer cannot and will not be a real summer without a new blue. Then, in the fall - after a cash check - it will be decided whether the candidate is to be hot shit for another year - or sunk in the (business) bog. Tom Ford's Neroli Portofino has already survived many summers - resisting countless Cassandra calls. Whether a similar number of summers can be predicted for his perfume remains to be seen.
Neroli Portofino Perfume promises something like the perfection of its azure DNA: infinite neroli and eternal blue. What to make of the promise of hesperidic immortality has been the subject of much controversy - I have described my views on this in the commentary on Hermès' Eau de Pamplemousse Rose, among others. The essence of such fragrances is their transience - to deprive them of this always runs the risk of making them lifeless and rigid, taking away their light-footedness and lightness. And yet a fragrance like Neroli Portofino Parfum can work - with tempered excess and well-dosed infinity. Like the Celtic summer king has too much of everything - but only for one summer.
Here is Neroli Portofino 'with the volume turned up', which is exhausting, but pleasing and intentional. Here is Neroli Portofino for all those who want to enjoy the illusion of hesperidic eternity without believing in it. Here is radiant summer blue and a southern cologne glow that celebrates excess and abundance without regret. There is something absurd about it, just as the summer king - crowned with fruit and flowers - feels absurd, everything here is too much of everything and too much now. And yet there is magic in this celebration of the moment and Tom Ford's condensed neroli, as paradoxical and inaccurate as it may seem. For a summer or two.
Conclusion: all the magic of 'too much of everything' and 'too much now'.
The product cycle for light summer fragrances is somewhat similar: the new freshnesses are usually introduced in late winter - and sometimes push the old ones to the lower shelves. Tanned models pose with them in front of southern backdrops, and we know that summer cannot and will not be a real summer without a new blue. Then, in the fall - after a cash check - it will be decided whether the candidate is to be hot shit for another year - or sunk in the (business) bog. Tom Ford's Neroli Portofino has already survived many summers - resisting countless Cassandra calls. Whether a similar number of summers can be predicted for his perfume remains to be seen.
Neroli Portofino Perfume promises something like the perfection of its azure DNA: infinite neroli and eternal blue. What to make of the promise of hesperidic immortality has been the subject of much controversy - I have described my views on this in the commentary on Hermès' Eau de Pamplemousse Rose, among others. The essence of such fragrances is their transience - to deprive them of this always runs the risk of making them lifeless and rigid, taking away their light-footedness and lightness. And yet a fragrance like Neroli Portofino Parfum can work - with tempered excess and well-dosed infinity. Like the Celtic summer king has too much of everything - but only for one summer.
Here is Neroli Portofino 'with the volume turned up', which is exhausting, but pleasing and intentional. Here is Neroli Portofino for all those who want to enjoy the illusion of hesperidic eternity without believing in it. Here is radiant summer blue and a southern cologne glow that celebrates excess and abundance without regret. There is something absurd about it, just as the summer king - crowned with fruit and flowers - feels absurd, everything here is too much of everything and too much now. And yet there is magic in this celebration of the moment and Tom Ford's condensed neroli, as paradoxical and inaccurate as it may seem. For a summer or two.
Conclusion: all the magic of 'too much of everything' and 'too much now'.
3 Comments