Top Notes 
Black caraway
Edelweiss
Citrus leaf
Heart Notes 
White blossoms
Woodland strawberry
Green notes
Base Notes 
Chocolate
Cedarwood08/11/2025
Berkanlenck
144 Reviews
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Berkanlenck
Top Review
23
The Language of Alpine Flowers
I still remember well the first day I wore Fleur Alpine.
It was a cold, clear day in the mountains, not in South Tyrol, but in Hamburg.
I sprayed the fragrance on before I went outside. Immediately, this bittersweet veil of chocolate and damp moss filled the air as if someone had forgotten a cup of cocoa in the middle of a mountain pasture. Then, with each step over the dew-kissed meadows, the flowers began to reveal themselves: edelweiss, hiding like a little secret among the stones, and an inconspicuous red orchid, whose scent traveled softly on the wind.
The path led me higher up, and at some point, the fragrance seemed to become one with the landscape. The fresh, almost minty coolness of the air blended with the creamy warmth of the base notes, and for a moment, I felt as if my childhood stood before me, barefoot over summer meadows, with chocolate stains on my T-shirt, while somewhere strawberries were ripening.
Later, when I stood in a garden, the scent had almost become part of my skin. No longer a perfume, but a memory that I carried of a time that never fully returns, but lives on in Fleur Alpine.
My conclusion:
Fleur Alpine is for me like an entire day in the Alps, captured in a single bottle. It begins with that clear, green breath of the morning, when the sun is just rising over the mountain peaks and edelweiss, fresh citrus leaves, and the rare Nigritella orchid fill the air. Then come the warm hours of the day, when white flowers and wild strawberries flash like small, forgotten childhood moments-sweet, but never too loud. And finally, when evening falls, the warmth of dark chocolate and cedarwood envelops me like a blanket in front of the fireplace. It is not a simple fragrance, but a journey-one that brings me back again and again to where the air is thin, the light is soft, and the memories are clearer than anywhere else.
It was a cold, clear day in the mountains, not in South Tyrol, but in Hamburg.
I sprayed the fragrance on before I went outside. Immediately, this bittersweet veil of chocolate and damp moss filled the air as if someone had forgotten a cup of cocoa in the middle of a mountain pasture. Then, with each step over the dew-kissed meadows, the flowers began to reveal themselves: edelweiss, hiding like a little secret among the stones, and an inconspicuous red orchid, whose scent traveled softly on the wind.
The path led me higher up, and at some point, the fragrance seemed to become one with the landscape. The fresh, almost minty coolness of the air blended with the creamy warmth of the base notes, and for a moment, I felt as if my childhood stood before me, barefoot over summer meadows, with chocolate stains on my T-shirt, while somewhere strawberries were ripening.
Later, when I stood in a garden, the scent had almost become part of my skin. No longer a perfume, but a memory that I carried of a time that never fully returns, but lives on in Fleur Alpine.
My conclusion:
Fleur Alpine is for me like an entire day in the Alps, captured in a single bottle. It begins with that clear, green breath of the morning, when the sun is just rising over the mountain peaks and edelweiss, fresh citrus leaves, and the rare Nigritella orchid fill the air. Then come the warm hours of the day, when white flowers and wild strawberries flash like small, forgotten childhood moments-sweet, but never too loud. And finally, when evening falls, the warmth of dark chocolate and cedarwood envelops me like a blanket in front of the fireplace. It is not a simple fragrance, but a journey-one that brings me back again and again to where the air is thin, the light is soft, and the memories are clearer than anywhere else.
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