
Gaukeleya
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Gaukeleya
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The Way into the Light
- So, onto Desert Rose now, the latest fragrance from Urban Scents that I want to dedicate a few words to (beyond the already released statement) -
Desert Rose is a delicate little plant, that much can be said right away. The strong spices (I primarily perceive pepper) that dominate the scent in, let's say, the first third - perhaps even in the first half - cannot disguise this. Marie Le Febvre wanted, in her words, to create a rose scent for people who are not fans of rose fragrances, and in this regard, I can only nod in agreement again: I am not a fan of rose scents either. And I like Desert Rose (though not as much as some other Urban Scents).
The charming employee at the Berlin shop where I first took a whiff of Desert Rose explained that the special aspect here is primarily due to the salicylates, which give the fragrance a certain sharpness and edge. Now, I must say that I have no idea how salicylates smell or what they can do in perfumes, but I can confirm the sharpness and edge.
At least at the beginning. Desert Rose opens fresh, sharply peppery/spicy and, well, rosy. This opening is, like the entire fragrance, not particularly complex, but beautifully spirited; it has something cheeky, sparkling, bright eyes, freckles. Perhaps also a slightly brittle quality, but not as self-assured and cunning as, for example, La Fille de Berlin (my previous rose favorite).
Where FdB quickly makes it clear that we are being drawn into darkness as the scent develops, Desert Rose soon reveals the path into the light that it will take.
Although the sharp spice with the fine, pointed thorns of this rose certainly lasts a good one or two hours, it cannot halt the triumphant march of the gentle clean musk that will soon dominate Desert Rose and make it light and friendly. I also perceive a distinctly dry note, most likely something woody, though not parched like desert dust, rather completely dry and unjuicy.
I cannot detect anything sweet, even gourmandish, at all. After the sharp spice (and presumably also salicylate) companions, I only smell the clean, fine, bright, noble musk, embedded in the delicate rose.
Desert Rose initially presents itself as a spirited, androgynous creature, a bit defiant, brittle, and cheeky, but deep down, it only conceals its shyness and friendly, gentle nature. Filigree, bright, and transparent, developing quickly close to the skin - perhaps a bit *too* close to the skin, and one really has to want that given the price - Desert Rose lasts about half a day on my skin; it doesn't last longer, which is a pity.
Those seeking abysses will not find them here, nor will those looking for a sweet little girl rose with baby’s breath, and certainly not an opulent, sensual blood rose for seduction. The charm of Desert Rose lies in the purring behind the feistiness, the gentle nature behind the dismissive thorniness, the light at the end of the dark path.
Desert Rose is a delicate little plant, that much can be said right away. The strong spices (I primarily perceive pepper) that dominate the scent in, let's say, the first third - perhaps even in the first half - cannot disguise this. Marie Le Febvre wanted, in her words, to create a rose scent for people who are not fans of rose fragrances, and in this regard, I can only nod in agreement again: I am not a fan of rose scents either. And I like Desert Rose (though not as much as some other Urban Scents).
The charming employee at the Berlin shop where I first took a whiff of Desert Rose explained that the special aspect here is primarily due to the salicylates, which give the fragrance a certain sharpness and edge. Now, I must say that I have no idea how salicylates smell or what they can do in perfumes, but I can confirm the sharpness and edge.
At least at the beginning. Desert Rose opens fresh, sharply peppery/spicy and, well, rosy. This opening is, like the entire fragrance, not particularly complex, but beautifully spirited; it has something cheeky, sparkling, bright eyes, freckles. Perhaps also a slightly brittle quality, but not as self-assured and cunning as, for example, La Fille de Berlin (my previous rose favorite).
Where FdB quickly makes it clear that we are being drawn into darkness as the scent develops, Desert Rose soon reveals the path into the light that it will take.
Although the sharp spice with the fine, pointed thorns of this rose certainly lasts a good one or two hours, it cannot halt the triumphant march of the gentle clean musk that will soon dominate Desert Rose and make it light and friendly. I also perceive a distinctly dry note, most likely something woody, though not parched like desert dust, rather completely dry and unjuicy.
I cannot detect anything sweet, even gourmandish, at all. After the sharp spice (and presumably also salicylate) companions, I only smell the clean, fine, bright, noble musk, embedded in the delicate rose.
Desert Rose initially presents itself as a spirited, androgynous creature, a bit defiant, brittle, and cheeky, but deep down, it only conceals its shyness and friendly, gentle nature. Filigree, bright, and transparent, developing quickly close to the skin - perhaps a bit *too* close to the skin, and one really has to want that given the price - Desert Rose lasts about half a day on my skin; it doesn't last longer, which is a pity.
Those seeking abysses will not find them here, nor will those looking for a sweet little girl rose with baby’s breath, and certainly not an opulent, sensual blood rose for seduction. The charm of Desert Rose lies in the purring behind the feistiness, the gentle nature behind the dismissive thorniness, the light at the end of the dark path.
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