Monarch Vertus

Background: Perfumos send me samples, I then test the perfumes sent without any knowledge and describe my response - that of an inexperienced dilettante.

Wonderful. It's Saturday, the kids are in bed after 627,123 words, the heating has failed and I finally have time for a new fragrance. Thick blanket, off to the couch and off we go.
Hola, a herbaceous-fresh opening with a citrusy-bitter note. The nostrils are fully arched in order to better absorb the scent, even if this makes no sense whatsoever. Ha! Basil, definitely! But the normal one, not the Thai one, because there is definitely no licorice snail crawling in through the nostril. And there's moss too, because only on my stubborn skin does moss become an encounter of the third kind, which could best be described by the term intergalatic ashtray. Fortunately, I have deactivated the "I like/don't like" categories today, and a fragrance simply remains a fragrance. But what is it supposed to tell me? Inwardly, the eyeballs bulge towards the firmament as if there were yoga classes for the organs of sight. They are looking for a message and find the sophisticated calm of darkness. Well, after all.
Over time, it becomes a little sweet and my guess is clary sage. That makes it milder, but there could also be a little jasmine in the mix. To be honest, I have absolutely no idea what is currently entering my limbic system.
Based on my gut feeling, I would say it's a Clive Christian vintage fragrance clone in synthetic. Funnily enough, on close inspection it is clear but bitter, sweet and spicy in the air, but only moderately perceptible. It seems a little cold, distant and somehow grumpy. You literally wait until he finally stops complaining and fills out his tax return with his wooden pencil.
So I'd better make myself a cognac first.