Top Notes 
Elemi resin
White cedar
Bergamot
Heart Notes 
Cinnamon
Cocoa
Black rose
Geranium
Base Notes 
Tonka bean
Amber
Peru balsam
Cashmere wood
Patchouli
Cistus
Musk
GothicHeart
133 Reviews
GothicHeart
Very helpful Review
5
Stumbling on my mind...
I have a confession to make. It may reduce my already low credentials in perfume reviewing even further, but I think it's the right thing to do.
I often fall for names that ring the bell of my pagan instincts, or kickstart my primal fears of walking blind in a tenebrous dungeon.
They sometimes make me like a perfume before even smelling it. Fall in love with its concept even. And yes, I know that I should have abandoned this kind of thinking since 12, but I guess my love for the thrill of the unexpected keeps it alive all these years. But in Noir Divin's case, the unexpected was way too surprising.
If I had ever seen this baby languidly lolling somewhere in a lady's boudoir, I'd be something like "Gracious sakes lad, this must be some lady and you absolutely have to smell this on her skin!"
A name evoking the mysteries of the night, a bottle that could hold a shady and probably dangerous potion and a house whose name sounds like a secret location where witches meet.
Noir Divin had it all.
Except the perfume itself. It's still a great concept, but for a different perfume perhaps, cause this one may be a very nice lady, but it's neither Noir nor Divin. No mysteries, no danger, and the witches eventually met someplace else. Nothing to shake your world here.
It's actually a very comforting scent. It's as comforting as a cup of hot cocoa, especially when you drink it next to a vase filled with freshly cut roses and powdering your nose every now and then. But what you'd expect from something called Noir Divin wouldn't be to offer you comfort, but rather to send you seeking comfort after encountering it, possibly along with a shoulder to cry on.
I won't blame the perfume itself, neither I'll say that it failed to meet my expectations. After all, it's not its fault if my mind created a wild and mostly inconsequent image about its potential, before smelling it. To tell the truth it's started to slowly grow on me. But for completely different reasons than I initially thought it might. The question now is whether I should try to test its namesake too, a Swiss red wine, if I ever happen on it, or simply avoid the risk of yet another disappointment. Cause you can test a perfume as many times as you like without any nasty side-effects, but how many times can you test a wine before detox becomes ineluctably necessary?...
I often fall for names that ring the bell of my pagan instincts, or kickstart my primal fears of walking blind in a tenebrous dungeon.
They sometimes make me like a perfume before even smelling it. Fall in love with its concept even. And yes, I know that I should have abandoned this kind of thinking since 12, but I guess my love for the thrill of the unexpected keeps it alive all these years. But in Noir Divin's case, the unexpected was way too surprising.
If I had ever seen this baby languidly lolling somewhere in a lady's boudoir, I'd be something like "Gracious sakes lad, this must be some lady and you absolutely have to smell this on her skin!"
A name evoking the mysteries of the night, a bottle that could hold a shady and probably dangerous potion and a house whose name sounds like a secret location where witches meet.
Noir Divin had it all.
Except the perfume itself. It's still a great concept, but for a different perfume perhaps, cause this one may be a very nice lady, but it's neither Noir nor Divin. No mysteries, no danger, and the witches eventually met someplace else. Nothing to shake your world here.
It's actually a very comforting scent. It's as comforting as a cup of hot cocoa, especially when you drink it next to a vase filled with freshly cut roses and powdering your nose every now and then. But what you'd expect from something called Noir Divin wouldn't be to offer you comfort, but rather to send you seeking comfort after encountering it, possibly along with a shoulder to cry on.
I won't blame the perfume itself, neither I'll say that it failed to meet my expectations. After all, it's not its fault if my mind created a wild and mostly inconsequent image about its potential, before smelling it. To tell the truth it's started to slowly grow on me. But for completely different reasons than I initially thought it might. The question now is whether I should try to test its namesake too, a Swiss red wine, if I ever happen on it, or simply avoid the risk of yet another disappointment. Cause you can test a perfume as many times as you like without any nasty side-effects, but how many times can you test a wine before detox becomes ineluctably necessary?...
1 Comment
Zerotonin
Nisie
Bleudegonse
Pepper81
Globomanni
Gandix
Felini
