Aliana

Magic and witchcraft, the dark knowledge of primal powers. To summon them and ignite passion was the skill of witches - those solitary women who are still surrounded by an aura of fascination today. The witch and her dark, viscous tinctures, mixed to enchant the senses, to draw the beloved into obsession, to force reciprocation. In the gloomy forests, surrounded by thickets and ancient trees, once hid those women who were said to have had power over the living and the dead with the help of the devil. On secret paths came to them those whose souls writhed in flames. Unrequited love and desire often drove women to seek out a wise one to give fate a nudge in the right direction. How tempting the prospect of plunging someone into desire from which there is no escape! For this, seekers sacrificed jewelry, gold, valuable possessions, and not least their fear of God.
The room is dark, smoky, and filled with mystical objects. Dried herbs, grasses, flowers, clumps of feathers and blood, resins and stones surround the hearth - the heart and soul of the witch's house. The petitioner is torn between fear and trust, between the urge to flee and the prospect of success. The longed-for is just a spell away - and yet the witch seems to be from another world. She places the cauldron on the embers, and her nimble fingers crumble all the wondrous stuff into it that is needed to rob the man of his senses. Smoke rises and hisses. The witch murmurs and calls upon the elements. The poor lovesick woman cannot take her eyes off the embers. The name of the beloved hovers a hundred times over the cauldron, dancing with the smoke, whispered, called, conjured by the rough voice of the witch, the voice of a woman who rarely speaks. The scents are foreign and never smelled before, and yet they touch the deepest parts within. The witch sways back and forth, her lips forming the secret words, her eyes glowing like the embers beneath the cauldron. It bubbles there, labdanum and amber melt, and myrrh, in which branches, flowers, and wood splinters sink. The figure of the seeker is now just a shadow in the smoky room. Her mind is enchanted, confused, detached from fear and reality. She is no longer who she is and is becoming more and more like who she wants to be for him. The witch scrapes the viscous lump from the cauldron.
It is dark brown, velvety-soft, and it smells as it looks - of forbidden desire, of dark magic, and of the devil's power. The witch wraps it in green leaves.
- When the moon is full and the night brightens, go to the brook at midnight. There wash yourself three times and rub a small piece on your breasts, on your thighs, and on your belly. Let your hair dry in the moonlight and return to the village. Stir a small lump into sweet wine. Wake him up and let him drink. Be with him.
The woman nods with reddened eyes and pulls out a golden coin from her warm bosom. The witch reaches for it and urges her to leave:
- Take the path under the old oak over there. Pull your shawl low over your face. And be careful! No one must know where you have been!
The woman quickly walks between the bushes, and only a few moments later her steps can no longer be heard.
The witch rubs her irritated eyes and goes inside to prepare for the next petitioner. Even when the bonfire threatens, desire is always stronger than fear.

Flora Nymphea came to me unexpectedly, a gift. The "benefactor" commented: "I always give what the recipient would never buy for themselves."

Indeed, I would not have purchased this.

I like flowers. I particularly enjoy lilac and orange blossoms. But when it comes down to it, the others, the dark ones, the orientals, the woody, the lascivious ones always come first. Whether buying or wearing, floral scents somehow always draw the short straw.

Let me say this directly: Flora Nymphea is interesting, unusual, and pretty to look at! But is Flora Nymphea also for me?

Immediately after spraying, I smell citrus freshness and lilac. The lilac is shimmering, purple, not fully bloomed. And then, you can laugh at me, I smell tomato green. Leaves, stems... along with ripe tomatoes hanging on. And I like it, very much. I am astonished at how beautifully it fits together. After about 10-12 minutes, the scent becomes dense. The shimmer sinks into the depth, as the citrus is no longer present. I recognize honey. At the moment, it doesn’t bother me, it’s not sticky, not sweet, and not much at all. The orange blossom is just a vague outline. Up to this point, the scent has been very fresh, beautiful, and interesting.

But then a spiciness sneaks in, which is surely intentional and part of the concept, but it spoils my enjoyment in a floral scent. It smells like five-spice powder, sweet-spicy. This does not fit for me with the tomato green, nor with lilac and orange blossom. The spice harmonizes, in my perception, only with the honey and amplifies its presence many times over. I see before me a mortar, with honey dripping in, golden and viscous, and its scent rises to my nose. Then the spice mixture is sprinkled in, just a knife tip of it. The pestle circles, and the honey becomes very warm. Then the lush lilac clusters and a handful of orange blossoms are added, and they are literally crushed. The mass turns grayish-white. The pestle circles and circles, unrelenting.

At this point, in summer warmth, I get a headache and feel a bit nauseous. In cooler weather and cold, this does not happen.

I cannot quite categorize this scent. It is not fresh (anymore) for me, as it is too (spicy). It is also not spicy in the way I like. It is not light, but not heavy either. Neither warm nor fresh.

After quite an exhausting time, bitterness and woodiness are added. The lilac is already very pale, but it still flashes up every now and then. The honey becomes really aromatic, too much of itself, and I then perceive it as pasty. So it remains for my nose. The scent fades, without becoming pleasant for me again.

Somehow, I am never in the mood for this perfume. It’s a pity, really. I can see that it is something special. Unfortunately, I just don’t like it. Just like Picasso's paintings - I can look at them for a long time and recognize that they are actually genius. But I neither like them, nor would I hang them in my house.

I have often tried to pass it on to someone. Unfortunately, it has not yet found an owner who can appreciate it.

I have visitors. Visitors from the country where I was born and raised. A place I haven't been to in 17 years and where I probably won't travel to in the future either.
My parents came from large families and were each the last of 7 and 6 siblings, respectively. They also had me relatively late, which means that my cousins are all about 20 - 25 years older than I am. Their children are around my age - more or less. And they are gradually having children of their own.
Right now, I have such a constellation in the house - my cousin, her son, her daughter-in-law, and the long-awaited twins, 3.5 years old. We waited so long for them, we held our breath with every in vitro attempt. After 16 years and 21 tries, they are here! And finally, I get to meet them.

Two little whirlwinds, crazy, funny, loud, sweet, and annoying like two little devils, with nothing but mischief in their heads. They have a twinkle in their eyes, constantly scheming, and nothing and no one is safe from them. The cats have retreated; sometimes they peek from the tree to see what's going on inside, but they have no desire to join in. They have finally worn out the dog, who used to walk 20 km daily with us and still brimmed with energy. Now he just wants his peace. We are all exhausted. Tired and drained. Only the twins are relentless and never sit still.
I am not someone who fawns over children. On the contrary, I am strict, assertive, and do not like to speak in a baby voice. But somehow, near me, the two calm down. They seek my closeness, cuddle up to me, become quiet, and fall asleep. I am slowly understanding their babble and no longer need a translator. When the three of us are snuggled up together, they tell me so many innocent things, and my heart feels so warm. They smell like babies, their hair is silky, they still have baby fat and little pointed fingers, and when they fall asleep with me, I do too. Always.
When they crawl on me and take over, their mother tries to rescue me. Just yesterday. She asked them reproachfully why they were hugging me so tightly, why they were pressing their faces against me, whether they didn't want to let me breathe.
Then one simply said: She smells so good.
The other one clung to my shoulder.

I believe I have never received a compliment about my scent that brought tears to my eyes. But yesterday it was like that. I hugged both of them tightly and wanted to sob from emotion.
For about 2 weeks, I have been spraying Angel Muse. Not just that. Something different in the morning, Angel Muse in the afternoon. Very sparingly. This scent lingers in my hair, on my bathrobe, my skin is thoroughly infused with Angel Muse. And while I find the scent quite erotic, the two little ones have perceived a very special aspect of it - it is like a caress, conveys a cozy feeling, is cuddly, and spreads harmony. Normally, I don't particularly like Mugler. I have respected Angel on two friends, but it has always given me headaches. This one, however, is different. It is also room-filling, but not in an aggressive way. Also loud, but you can turn it down. Also expressive, but not selfish.
In any case, the twins have succumbed to it. They become quiet, lie on me, and seek to press their faces directly against my skin. They seem to be experiencing something so quiet and intimate that will shape their sense of smell for a lifetime. Slowly, their eyes close, the mischief retreats, their faces relax, their little hands loosen their grip, their lips slightly part as sleep colors their cheeks rosy.
I am fascinated every time!
Here you can see the twins:
https://www.parfumo.de/Benutzer/Aliana/Bild/127960

Summary

For whom?:
This remedy is used for acute gloom, spring fatigue, aversion to strongly scented addictive substances, early stages of depression, unfulfilled romance, midlife crisis, negative attitudes towards one's own sexuality or that of a partner, and for a pressing need for olfactory invisibility.

Where it works:
The main target of Placea Vendomica is generally the olfactory center, i.e., the areas in the brain associated with the sense of smell. The primary olfactory center consists of the endpoints of the first neuron of the olfactory pathway, the secondary olfactory center includes the substantia perforata, the mammillary bodies, as well as the olfactory trigone and the subcallosal gyrus. The tertiary olfactory center (and olfactory center in the strict sense) consists of the centers of the secondary olfactory cortex at the end of the olfactory pathway in the area of the hippocampus.

At what age?:
The perfume can be used for relevant complaints and is not bound to a specific age group. However, the applicable conditions tend to occur more from middle age onwards.

Characteristics:

Placea Vendomica is for delicately strung women or strong ones who need a break from the hustle and bustle. There is a pressing desire for olfactory innocence up to abstinence. Placea Vendomica struggles with strong and expressive scents and longs for scent neutrality. Placea Vendomica is defined by soft pastel and rose tones, floral patterns, polka dots, and in rare cases, by Bohemian style. The appearance of Placea Vendomica is neat to playful, never provocative or aggressive. In old age, Placea Vendomica remains girlishly playful and romantic, sometimes just shy of absurdity.

Effect:

For Placea Vendomica to be perceived in the olfactory center, a strong imagination is necessary. And this is exactly where this remedy comes into play - before it can be recognized as a scent and unleash its effect, it promotes the flexibility of arms and neck, deep, slow breathing, and the entire imaginative capacity. In this way, it achieves a lasting saturation of the brain with oxygen and fosters imaginative, creative thinking in all its phases - incubation, illumination, and verification.

+ Improvement: Approval, soft eroticism, natural yogurt, warmth, bun, wildflower bouquet, rosé wine, light fare, purring cat, Debussy, fruitcake, hay baths, salad, ASMR, ballet

- Deterioration: Cold, heat, garlic, coitus, meat, Metallica, chocolate, lacquer and leather, plain speaking, fire, thunderstorms, adrenaline, street dance

Dosage: In acute cases, 3 sprays every hour. In the further course, 6 sprays in the morning, at noon, and in the evening.

Costa del Sol was brought to me from Bulgaria. The perfumes of this brand are considered a hidden gem there: actually affordable by Bulgarian standards, but the quality is said to far exceed the price. At least that's what the truly numerous enthusiastic comments in various forums suggest.
My cousin brought me two perfumes from this brand - Costa del Sol and I Thought of You for Women.
Costa del Sol can be found in the Woody category.
Personally, I find it floral-fresh-musk-innocent. However, since I am not exactly an expert on floral scents and can only properly identify woods when they are presented almost solitarily, I do not want to dispute the classification.

This perfume surprised me in several ways.
1. I smelled it and was sure: Yes! Yes, even though I can't really identify anything and even though I can hardly reconcile it with my actual preferences.
2. This perfume has garnered several compliments, even when I could no longer perceive it at all.
3. Many times, when I stood in front of my perfumes in the morning and looked at them individually to decide what I felt like, I was exactly in the mood for this scent.

I will try to list its qualities:
An absolutely feminine scent, clear, soft, floral warm, but not warming. It is present, but clearly unobtrusive, discreet-innocent, yet also truly in bloom. Immediately after spraying, I smell rose and jasmine, almost simultaneously. And powdery notes. Musk is not on the list of fragrance components, but I cannot shake the impression that it is also involved. Every time I smell the cap, my first thought is: Musk.
After about 10 minutes, a note appears that smells to me like fine white tea. The scent becomes truly harmonious, the components come together and complement each other beautifully.
The fragrance has modesty (in the best sense of the word), as if it is self-sufficient and rests confidently within itself. Somehow, I have the image of myself as if I were smelling the flowers through a veil of fog - muted, yet rich.
I really don't know if the base is already peeking through or simply never appears, because as I know cedar, incense, and sandalwood - oriental, sensual, room-filling - I do not smell them here. If they are present - then in such a sensitive way woven in that they affect me subconsciously, but I do not consciously perceive them.

It is now clear to me that I am once again praising a fragrance that is available for under 20 euros - but the great expensive ones I have have already been praised abundantly by many before me ;) Therefore, I forgive myself :)

Sillage and longevity? This scent makes it very difficult for me. On one hand, the manufacturer claims it is pure perfume and guarantees a minimum longevity of 12 hours. On the other hand, I feel as if it is completely gone after about 5 hours. But... the people around me continue to perceive it and praise it highly. This confuses me because normally I am quite accurate with my perceptions. And the compliments also confuse me, as it is not usual for my perfume to be praised. I tend to like things that few others do. Therefore, I even thought I had fallen for some pleasing mainstream scent, but really! My problem is that I do not know what is "common" and may risk not recognizing it as such.
I have never worn this scent for going out or for sensual moments. For me, it is a fragrance for bright hours, bright minds, bright feelings, very feminine, but not seductive.

I am willing to send samples, as I am really puzzled and would love to hear a "second" opinion.