15
Veni Vidi Vici - about an unfair fight and capitulation
One of the greats here in the Parfumo empire and also elsewhere on the perfume shelf is he, the pronounceable, this Tom Ford.
He may have already written perfume history, and as a perfume amateur, I just don’t know it yet, as I still let myself be dazzled and amazed by new insights every week.
One of those I will share with you today.
Where do I even begin?
A Tom Ford with ‘Noir’ in it is THE favorite of one of my favorites, who bears the nickname Koroleva (Queen). In the hope of one day being as glorious and radiant as she is, I read what she has read, try to adopt what she has adopted, and gladly consult her before important campaigns, where she is often the grain of rice that ultimately tips the scales.
So when I had the opportunity, I too wanted to have an affair with the infamous Mr. Ford.
However, in this case, it was not of long duration, let alone great joy.
Since so-called Lacrimarien, tear vases, were NOT intended (and made) to collect tears to check who was the biggest shrew of their lifetime, please pass me the tear vase at this point so I can do what one should probably do with this vessel: safely store something, for example ointments or other remedies, without anything leaking or escaping in any other way.
So: please seal it airtight and then toss it into the river or at least far, far away.
- to the pyramid: I have no idea what a kulfi is and I equally don’t know what mastic resin smells like, otherwise I like everything that is contained in it. Licorice? Oh yes! Creamy vanilla? Orange blossom? I not only find that great on myself - and Tshajbujasminkoshka also loves roses. Tell me where and I am almost ready to bathe in this promise. So unfortunately, I (still) have no idea who dealt me the death blow on this battlefield. It comes early and...
- certainly has something to do with the volume: I imagine Caesar standing at the front line with a vuvuzela, whispering in my ear at 160 decibels. No wonder I’m not in love. That can’t happen, I’m already dead beforehand. I came unarmed and with the best intentions. Pinch my nose and push through? I tried, thought maybe it was just the top note that had to pass. But whatever it is: it has come to stay. Veni, vidi, vici - there was apparently never any talk of disappearing.
- Effect: headaches through the nose. Latent nausea.
- Longevity: like everything that one doesn’t like so much, it goes on here towards infinity, and after washing it off (maybe the water was too warm?), I still perceive a hint of discomfort. I’m thinking about rubbing garlic on the affected areas. Otherwise, I can’t think of anything I have at home that could save me, aside from a white flag and unconditional surrender.
If Caesar ever writes about our brief encounter, he will probably call me some monstrous creature, a cat beast so huge that it would even frighten Jupiter and he would want to banish it again and again, but each time he would freeze in awe at my name.
That I am just a little human being who enjoys (delicious) food, music, and scents, and who already makes himself smaller than a thimble after expressing his humble opinion on his zero-percent objective encounter with Madame Noir, that... he will keep to himself.
Pretty unfair, this guyyy.
“Colora l‘anima
con una lacrima!”
(Make the soul colorful with a tear!)
- Irama - La genesi del tuo colore (2021)
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=ksTDwL45sO0
I also like to shed two: one for not being able to appreciate this masterpiece and one for having said it out loud.
But the good thing is: if I don’t like it, there’s more for you.
He may have already written perfume history, and as a perfume amateur, I just don’t know it yet, as I still let myself be dazzled and amazed by new insights every week.
One of those I will share with you today.
Where do I even begin?
A Tom Ford with ‘Noir’ in it is THE favorite of one of my favorites, who bears the nickname Koroleva (Queen). In the hope of one day being as glorious and radiant as she is, I read what she has read, try to adopt what she has adopted, and gladly consult her before important campaigns, where she is often the grain of rice that ultimately tips the scales.
So when I had the opportunity, I too wanted to have an affair with the infamous Mr. Ford.
However, in this case, it was not of long duration, let alone great joy.
Since so-called Lacrimarien, tear vases, were NOT intended (and made) to collect tears to check who was the biggest shrew of their lifetime, please pass me the tear vase at this point so I can do what one should probably do with this vessel: safely store something, for example ointments or other remedies, without anything leaking or escaping in any other way.
So: please seal it airtight and then toss it into the river or at least far, far away.
- to the pyramid: I have no idea what a kulfi is and I equally don’t know what mastic resin smells like, otherwise I like everything that is contained in it. Licorice? Oh yes! Creamy vanilla? Orange blossom? I not only find that great on myself - and Tshajbujasminkoshka also loves roses. Tell me where and I am almost ready to bathe in this promise. So unfortunately, I (still) have no idea who dealt me the death blow on this battlefield. It comes early and...
- certainly has something to do with the volume: I imagine Caesar standing at the front line with a vuvuzela, whispering in my ear at 160 decibels. No wonder I’m not in love. That can’t happen, I’m already dead beforehand. I came unarmed and with the best intentions. Pinch my nose and push through? I tried, thought maybe it was just the top note that had to pass. But whatever it is: it has come to stay. Veni, vidi, vici - there was apparently never any talk of disappearing.
- Effect: headaches through the nose. Latent nausea.
- Longevity: like everything that one doesn’t like so much, it goes on here towards infinity, and after washing it off (maybe the water was too warm?), I still perceive a hint of discomfort. I’m thinking about rubbing garlic on the affected areas. Otherwise, I can’t think of anything I have at home that could save me, aside from a white flag and unconditional surrender.
If Caesar ever writes about our brief encounter, he will probably call me some monstrous creature, a cat beast so huge that it would even frighten Jupiter and he would want to banish it again and again, but each time he would freeze in awe at my name.
That I am just a little human being who enjoys (delicious) food, music, and scents, and who already makes himself smaller than a thimble after expressing his humble opinion on his zero-percent objective encounter with Madame Noir, that... he will keep to himself.
Pretty unfair, this guyyy.
“Colora l‘anima
con una lacrima!”
(Make the soul colorful with a tear!)
- Irama - La genesi del tuo colore (2021)
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=ksTDwL45sO0
I also like to shed two: one for not being able to appreciate this masterpiece and one for having said it out loud.
But the good thing is: if I don’t like it, there’s more for you.
Translated · Show original
4 Comments
For me, this is exclusively a winter fragrance for going out. In the current temperatures, it just doesn't work for me at all.
Maybe you'll find another candidate with good old Tom that you can love?