4ajbukoshka

Salem: Esteemed night owls! If, like me, you think after reading the headline that Tshajbukoshka should take less of whatever it is taking, don’t read on. It gets confusing, it gets a bit incomprehensible, it gets lengthy, it gets, in one word, 'tshajbukoshkaesk'!
Tshajbukoshka: Well, one should be allowed to sing! If you are really sooo interested in the scent, feel free to skip to the second-to-last paragraph.
Salem: (clamps both paws over its ears and curls up under the cupboard) So, Tshajbukoshka, do you just have a déjà vu?
Tshajbukoshka: Definitely yes! And if you only know Natasha from memes with talking cats, you’ve missed out. But no problem, we’ll catch up…
Salem: I have paws! How am I supposed to google? Oh well. Hey Siri! Who is Natasha?
Siri: Natasha is the short form of 'Natal'ja' and thus the first name of the following well-known personalities. Natal'ja Rudina, pseudonym 'Natali', born in March 1974 in Dzerzhinsk, Russia […]
Salem: Mooment! Isn’t that in Belarus!? Annexed?!
Tshajbukoshka: No, there are several places by that name, in Belarus, Russia, and Ukraine.
Salem: Back to the topic! So it’s about the blonde who trills “Oh God, what a man! Brad Pitt and Johnny Depp in one bottle” and “I want a son from you!”? ^
Tshajbukoshka: No. She became famous with another song - my favorite is the ‘sea turtle named Natashka’. ^^ And now let’s briefly touch on the confusing point. Do you remember back then, in the Soviet Union?
Salem: We weren’t even born yet, you fool!
Tshajbukoshka: Okay, okay. Anyway, there was this ladies’ perfume called Natasha back then. In some shelves, like Aunt Sveta’s (and now raise your hands if you don’t have an Aunt Sveta! - No? I’m very sorry.), it’s still there today, somewhere further back. Because (allegedly) men liked the scent so much, they later made an Eau de Cologne out of it, which only differed visually in the label on the packaging and the sticker. (It said 'Cologne' instead of 'scent'/'perfume' //duchi//.)
Salem: Aha, okay. And what does the stuff smell like now?
Tshajbukoshka: For a price of about 500 rubles (for the vintage; currently around €8.60) you can find out! You can still buy it! And the crazy thing is: it used to cost 1 ruble 50 and is still affordable.
Salem: That can’t mean anything good.
Tshajbukoshka: Well, it was named, if at all, after the LEGENDARY Natasha, the one that will probably still be known in two generations, even though I have nothing against the other one.
Salem: Who IS that?
Siri: The living legend Natal'ja Fateeva, born in Kharkov, is currently 87 years old. She is known both as a screen heroine through her portrayal in more than fifty films and for her political engagement.
Tshajbukoshka: IS, not was. In 2013, Fateeva hung a banner for Moscow mayoral candidate Naval'nyj on her balcony: “Naval'nyj. Change Russia, start with Moscow.” After the police requested her to remove the banner, she refused, and hours later it was removed by the authorities. In 2014, she signed a petition against her president's Ukraine policy. She also signed the call for a congress “Against the War, against the self-isolation of Russia, against the restoration of totalitarianism,” which condemned the annexation of Crimea to Russia.
Salem: So what should I expect?
Tshajbukoshka: I expected ANARCHY! Power! This woman, brunette with blue eyes, has something to offer not only where she has no influence, keyword: genetics, but she inspires millions! Even though she will probably walk with crutches for the rest of her days, she is strong. When she opens her mouth, it is never to engage in trivial small talk. ^^^
Salem: Wow.
Tshajbukoshka: Then we seem to agree.
Salem: In that you talk too much? Yes. So. Wummser? Fougère? Chypre? Pantydropper?

Tshajbukoshka: Stop stringing together terms whose meanings we don’t know, you’re not Miss Turd. Aaaaalso… I told you what I expected. And now… is what you get. ‘Natasha’ in the bottle is friendly, floral, aldehydic-clean, and woody in the base.
Salem: Is that ALL?
Tshajbukoshka: Maybe there’s amber in the base, I’m not sure, that sounds familiar… and I mean, I can smell a bit of jasmine in the floral mush. Or… hmmm… some flower that is used very often in perfumes. Maybe I’ll figure it out, maybe not.
Salem: Generic?!
Tshajbukoshka: Meaningless. But hey, at least nothing is irritating my nose. And it lasts quite well, I easily get seven hours (on the wrist), it should last longer in the wardrobe.
Salem: Do you want to let it gather dust there?
Tshajbukoshka: No! Maybe I’ll gift it to Aunt Sveta.
Aunt Sveta: has so much personality that she doesn’t need perfume and even air would accentuate her character - if she would ever breathe (she certainly doesn’t do that while talking)
Salem: So it is indeed the other Natasha?
Tshajbukoshka: The image of the blonde on the newer (but still vintage) cover would suggest so. Anyway… Hey Siri! Please play ‘Veter s morja dul’ by Natali! (goes to look for the headphones)

^Song: “O Bozhe, kakoj muzh4ina” (og: О, Боже, какой мужчина! - “Oh God, what a man!”. 2014)
^^Song: “4erepashka” (og: Черепашка - “Turtle”. 2000)
^^^Article on eg.ru from 20.6.2022. Source: https://www.eg.ru/showbusiness/2312752-peredvigayushchayasya-na-kostylyah-natalya-fateeva-ya-stala-jertvoy-bezrazlichiya-i-ravnodushiya-so-storony-nashih-vrachey/amp/

Salem: Mental confusion has many faces, but today it wears the face of Tshajbukoshka.
Tshajbukoshka: As if no one would know that? You have something and think of something else. It’s on the tip of your tongue, but you just can’t recall the name. You try to draw a picture and see in your mind's eye how the contours blur.
Salem: Okay. So Neville has a reminder in hand and waijjjssss that he has forgotten something, but he can’t figure out what it is. Is that close?
Tshajbukoshka: Yesss! So… I’m standing in front of Linda’s dresser and she follows my gaze and tells me to pull the trigger.
And there it is! (In the background, Bushido is shouting “Wouh! I’m the final boss! […] Everyone knows me!”) That one, whose name is not Voldemort, but ‘Bake bake cake’ or something, vaaaffancuuuulooo, you know who I mean, that dentist/hospital to go, which you also find in the dupes, where they like to claim in the pyramid that it’s saffron. Pahahahahaha. They’ve never stuck their nose in saffron in their lives. In any case, I get this hospital vibe that vaguely reminds me of iodine. And if I wait a moment and try to ignore it, I get… berries? Peach rings?
Salem: How about apple? Look at the pyramid, hit copy and paste, and everyone is satisfied, who anyway doesn’t understand what you want to convey.
Tshajbukoshka: Huh? Really? Apple, peach, and vanilla? (scratches his head)
Salem: Has no one de-loused that little monkey in a long time? Do you really have to make that face?
Tshajbukoshka: Yesss! What do I do now? What do I say? Should I praise Linda for her taste? Jump out of the window?
Salem: Join Life!
Tshajbukoshka: No, thanks. Wallah, this is not good. I don’t want to get any closer than necessary.
Salem: Wallah, this is serrrrr good! (purrs and stashes a supply of the little bottles into his scruffy cat fur) People should finally stop getting too close to me with their meow-meow and their filthy grabbers. (sprays himself a few rounds with ‘Go Fruity’ to enlarge his personal space)

Nixo kapiiischo? Then here’s the short version.
For me, the scent belongs to the category of those that should not be smelled, in the Baccarat Rouge 540 Eau de Parfum in all variations as well as "Red Temptation Women | Zara" and the likes.
The reason for this is the very penetrating, piercing medical, all-dominating note that I have already discovered in some other perfumes from the lower shelf (keyword ‘bargain bin’) as saffron, here in a slightly homeopathized form.
I don’t explicitly get apples and peaches; I get berries and, with effort, an opened bag of peach rings. Possibly this is that chemistry set aroma xy, into which you could theoretically interpret anything, I waijjjssss noooothing.
Also noooothing: development or scent progression after the first half hour.
It is extremely positive to note the environmentally friendly sillage (quickly relatively close to the body; Salem is grumbling in the corner, as his plan to keep everyone at bay was once again a shot in the oven).
There is nothing to criticize about the longevity or the simple bottle. According to my research, you get 30ml in a solid glass bottle printed with letters for €7.
For me personally, these are better invested in peach and apple rings.
Salem: But you don’t have to eat everything. The quote in the title, which many will recognize from Oscar Wilde, indicates that presumably Baccarat Rouge, THE perfume hype since there have been perfume hypes, served as inspiration for this. Ah, Tshajbu, before I forget! Best regards from Stan.

“If you’re wondering what smells so strange, Mother: a mudblood just walked in.” He wrinkled his nose.
- “Tzzzz. My boy, don’t you know that even my lord, greater and mightier than you can ever imagine in your growing dreams, is not of pure blood? Tzzzz.”
Despite the snake emblem on his left breast, he clearly wanted to pay her no attention. What an unpleasant, pale brat, who with his feigned authoritative voice was proclaiming the wisdom of a second grader! Tzzzz.
Nagini slithered past. This wannabe villain could never be the heir of Slytherin, he couldn’t even master Parseltongue. If she hadn’t just devoured that fat Muggle two hours ago, she would have eaten him, just to avoid listening to him any longer.

Like Draco Malfoy (who is quoted here from Book 5 of the HP saga), I don’t speak Parseltongue and don’t understand much about snakes. Having touched a snake only once in my life, I waver between fascination and disgust with these creatures. A fitting scent comparison.
The voice of the snake starts off extremely loud and smoky for me, becomes medicinal (bleh, we will simply never be friends with saffron) and admittedly remains somehow coherent, impressive, mysterious - and yet again repulsive.
Nagini slinks away over parched earth dried by boiling heat. No mud. At most burning wood, cracking branches of rose bushes bend, Nagini elegantly winds her way past the blossoms. This impression runs through the entire scent progression, even if after a short time mainly leather becomes perceivable and sets the tone, not a soft hissing, but still bearable to pleasant even for those who are not fans of leather scents.
For a snake, this Gucci here is a bit too loud for me, and anyway, the not fully listed components of the perfume in this wonderfully pretty ceramic vessel are not my thing, but it’s well done, on the edge of villainy and yet somehow light-footed, perhaps fitting for a snake that has its five minutes of fame for a day.
Did anyone hear that hissing?
No idea what she said, but Nagini has disappeared. Hopefully, she won’t eat me too.

- curl up against me like a purring cat at my legs, trying to get me to fill her food bowl for the seventh time today, even though she’s on a diet and has already had two portions too many.
- are just as sweet as a cat that jumps onto my lap because she believes nothing and no one is more interesting than she is, and both work and all leisure activities are unnecessary as long as I can enjoy her presence.
And I can.
You…
- have exceeded my expectations.
What I expected from ‘Mon Précieux Nectar’: not much, at least not much good. The name had me playing Gollum on a loop in my head, looking at the ring and murmuring “Mon précieux - mon trésor.” Creepy. Your golden-yellow liquid stared at me from the cutest bee bottle, and I wondered what you were trying to tell me. And I (for now) refrained from a test.
You…
- made me forget (99 problems and many more).
- enchanted me with your edelweiss-honey-sweet, marzipan-like opening.
And that was just the beginning. The looks, the expression, and the perfection of your almond-shaped eyes rested on me for a long time and wouldn’t let go.
But there was more.
Orange blossom and jasmine, OMG, living without this combination might be possible, but it’s pointless.
You…
- are elegant and, despite the significant role of jasmine, never intrusive or overdressed.
Everything is where it should be, there’s no holding back, no too much or too little or “oh, if only they had…” sighs.
You…
- make me sigh the most because I want even more of you.
You…
- really remind me of a cat, one I never got for myself, and then suddenly she’s there, has her firm place in my heart, and I don’t wonder how she managed it, but hope that she stays. Grounded in reality, you are different from most others (Guerlains), but the landing is still soft, very soft.
I got it!
You…
- are a velvet paw!
And if you don’t curl up purring on my belly, then I’ll just lie down on yours.
*purr purr*

Salem:
Once upon a time, there was a silly thing named Tshajbukoshka,
which had [njemnoshka] [Akroshka] after eating - not just on the ladoshka //the palm//.
//nemnozhko [pronounced njemnoshka]: a little… Okroshka [pronounced Akroshka]: cold soup based on buttermilk or kefir…//
Tshajbukoshka: So Salem claims I once again got food all over myself. Okay. Anyway, I was showering. Since you shouldn't apply it on freshly shaved armpits, I didn't use my usual aluminum cream (Grande Amore) after showering, but reached for one of the "emergency deodorants" with alcohol.
Salem: Why do you need about ten different deodorants if you don't use any anyway?!
Tshajbukoshka: Ksch. No one chose '0' here, quiet in the cheap seats!

Tshajbukoshka held this bottle, whose purchase and contents had already been forgotten, for a deodorant (it really looks like one) and sprayed it blindly after a quick glance at "white musk."
Of course, it burned, and of course, it was also a bit too liquid for what most people understand as "deodorant." CD also makes deodorants without propellants, so Tshajbukoshka didn't think much of it at first... and besides, it’s said so unpleasantly and outdated, who wants to be beautiful must suffer!
Salem: Tshajbukoshka is not beautiful and suffers anyway. Let's also drop the "at first." AT FIRST? Tshajbukoshka never thinks about anything!
Only when the deodorant revealed associations of soapy-clean laundry detergent (or was it fabric softener?) did Tshajbukoshka become suspicious.
A slightly prickly synthetic rose made itself comfortable under the Tshajbu armpits.
Tshajbukoshka: Maybe that’s what makes others think of hairspray. This connection at least didn’t occur to me.
Salem: After all, bald heads don’t need hairspray, and Tshajbu has no hair, as all the older gentlemen on Parfumo know.
Tshajbukoshka: I am younger than the oldest cat in the world, okay?!
Salem: I’ll call animal welfare right away, that little pest is already 26, maybe someone will finally put it to sleep? Look, it’s just getting fat and senile. Today it confuses perfume with deodorant, next week it will accidentally turn on the gas tap…
Tshajbukoshka: Salem, stop talking such nonsense. Be useful instead.
Salem: Ja by pomog, no u menja lapki! (I would help, but I have paws!)
Tshajbukoshka: VAFFANCULO, Salem, vaaaaaaaffaaaaancuuuulo blin!

Salem: And if Tshajbukoshka hasn’t suffocated from its own tantrum, you can see it treating the bed linen with the steam brush every day and then applying Muschio Bianco.
Tshajbukoshka: finds it wonderfully beautiful and cozy and has probably found the best substitute for fabric softener that was banned from the T. from T. house years ago.
As a perfume, it’s not worth much, but for layering (still to be tested) and especially for bed linen, Muschio Bianco is a gentle-soft-white powder dream and definitely the better version of fabric softener.