Classic Patchouli Von Eusersdorff 2011

After "Classic Myrrh" had transported me back two millennia to the stable of Bethlehem not too long ago, allowing me to admire the gifts of the three wise men for the newly born Jesus, I was quite curious about the journeys that the other creations from the house of Eusersdorff would offer me.

I must admit, I was a bit apprehensive about "Classic Patchouli" - patchouli is not one of my preferred fragrance notes; it often turns out too tomb-like, damp, and dark on my skin for me to really get excited about it.
However, in "Classic Patchouli," friendly, gentle, and warm components are placed alongside it in the pyramid - enough reason for me to muster some courage and embark on the test.

The first impression - well...
Indeed, all my fears seem to be confirmed, as a dark, stern, and damp-cold breath emerges from my skin after a fleeting fresh accord, immediately transporting me to the darkest cellar, where no glimmer of light penetrates through the thick, clammy walls.
But before I can fully imagine myself in the crypt, the mustiness retreats, and a warm breeze arrives from somewhere, bringing with it aromatic, dry spices that cannot be clearly identified, yet for my nose lean towards the oriental direction - it could be cardamom, a pinch of nutmeg, a sprig of coriander...
"Classic Patchouli" now leads me up old wooden steps that creak in protest under my feet, into the daylight - blinded by the late summer afternoon sun, I close my eyes, let its warmth envelop me, and breathe deeply the aroma of the adjacent flower garden, heavily mingled with the scent of wild honey.

"Classic Patchouli" presents itself on my skin as a bit unwieldy, a bit stubborn - the dark, almost unattainable patchouli from the opening leaves no doubt about who plays the leading role in this fragrance; the master of the house is clear.
Despite all the friendliness and warmth that soon unfolds, the tomb-like undertone does not dissipate over many hours, as if a Damocles sword were hovering over a beautiful day flooded with light and air, a dark reminder of transience.
Only very late, after six to eight hours, does the patchouli yield to the aromatic-sensual sandalwood upon reaching the base, grounding and deepening the composition further, and finally allowing the gentle sweetness of vanilla and tonka to come through.
Those who have persevered until this point will be rewarded with a dark-balsamic delight that seems to merge with the skin, absorbing and refining its own scent - nothing harsh, nothing brittle is perceptible anymore, as "Classic Patchouli" sings its lullaby to me and still shares the pillow with me the next morning.