White Fire Tiziana Terenzi 2012 Extrait de Parfum

Although the paper form had made me skeptical, I had to try a sample of the white fire - once I was hooked, I was captivated by Angelliese's fine commentary. Accordingly, my expectations were rather indifferent before the first test.

Right after application, I am hit by a presumably aldehyde-induced prickling, which might remind me of a proper portion of icy, fresh air. Alpine or Dolomite air, or ice for that matter, is also fine, see marketing chatter. However, I hardly believe that my nose, when inhaling cold air, distinctly perceives the oxygen among all other atmospheric components, let alone precisely records the specific aggressiveness of this essential yet life-threatening cellular poison. Still, it's a fun and apparently rather rare pyramid idea. The head, as we know, is always sniffing at the forefront.

The thing about oxygen and ice reminds me of a highlight of university life in Kiel: the annual Christmas lecture of the chemists; a tradition that is similarly upheld at other universities. Spectators from all fields always gathered in droves. One of these spectacles had "Liquid Air" as its theme, and the lecturers played all sorts of pranks, for example with umbrellas that broke through a liquid oxygen rain or liquid carbon dioxide-frozen rubber boots that shattered with a hammer strike.

A particularly lasting impression in many ways was made by frozen and accidentally shattered mercury, which lay on the floor and thawed again, partly evaporating undisturbed because - certainly unintentionally - not all of the scattered drops had been bound by pouring sulfur over them. I learned that day that the stuff evaporates like water. Probably, the demonstrators and the audience in the front rows all got their share. Sustainable indeed. Relaxed people, those chemists. Such dangerously exciting things never happened in my accounting lectures; boredom usually doesn't cause immediate health impairments.

The impression of "let's believe it's oxygen" quickly faded, though. Jasmine takes the stage. It is only slightly soapy and far from that enchanting fullness that I like in Jasmin de Nuit. Glassy, clear, and pure it indeed is, thus living up to the name and concept, although not to my preferences.

During the third hour, an unmistakably synthetic note (Hedione?) emerges, which cannot be completely hidden by the jasmine. However, soon (still during the third hour) it is creamed over by the musk. From the fourth hour on, this becomes the central component, naturally kept white itself. While it complements the jasmine well, unfortunately, it is once again less to my liking. It could be a test recommendation for our musk ladies!

Within the seventh hour, the scent completely retreats to the skin - the sillage was never lush anyway - and lasts there for about another two to three hours as a lightly blymerant musk skin scent.

Even in further tests, I could hardly recognize more than a subtly noble jasmine-musk mélange in the first three hours and a noble-subtle musk-jasmine mélange in the last three hours after the admittedly quite furious start. What a pity. I found the commentary better.