Aolani

I had to have the bottle! It comes packaged in a sunny yellow box with a dark yellow flower and a gold rim. The glass takes on the pattern of the petals, the liquid glows warm yellow, and the cap is adorned with a yellow plastic flower.
Daisy comes from the Old English word Daegeseage, meaning day eye. This term colloquially refers to various daisy-like flowers such as daisies and marguerites. Every child knows them, perhaps under different names - lawn daisies, Mary flowers, sky flowers, moonlight flowers, or thousand beauties. They bloom in almost every meadow, inviting bees, bumblebees, and hoverflies to visit and showing everyone their brightly smiling face.
The most famous Daisy is Donald Duck's fashion-conscious girlfriend with the colorful bow in her hair and matching shoes. Some may remember her as the dog of a Munich fashion czar. Or Daisy Miller - a literary character. Not to forget Princess Daisy - the first lady of the high society, who hosted her invitations not far from my favorite city W.

I bought the fragrance in W. From the shopping gallery, I strolled a few steps to a square next to a former monastery. A few streets away, traffic rushes by. Pedestrians rarely pass through here, which is unusual since most people take shortcuts. Tourists hurry to a nearby attraction, but no one notices the obvious. The square almost feels like fallow land, which I love so much. Somehow deserted. Grass sprouts through the cracks of the pavement, and dandelions and daisies bloom in the meadow.
I like these untamed last corners of our otherwise so neatly groomed cities. They still exist here, right in the city. Next to the church lie large rock boulders. I feel like an archaeologist as I examine them. Next to them are strange figures, relics of a church column with figures and masks. They just stand there, unnoticed.
When you see something every day, you don't really see it. That might be how the daisy feels.

The scent starts with a bee sting - something pricks my nose, feels synthetic, even though the citrus notes quickly follow. It sparkles a bit; I think of sparkling wine, and that's how it smells. I perceive lime only as gentle background music. It adds a youthful touch, something sparkling, adventurous. The scent of summer when there was nothing better than lemonade to quench thirst.
Enter Aunt Bergamot. For my nose, once again, she appears as an elderly aunt, wiping a child's face with a damp handkerchief, but this one is friendly. She smiles. There’s something a bit cloying as well, but what? The aunt is okay with a glass of sparkling wine, which no longer sparkles, rather has gone a bit stale. Happily, she rests on the sofa and lets herself be refilled. Bubbling, overflowing.
After half an hour, the scent becomes milder, soft like the light of the evening sun. It still smells citrusy. A hint of orange, even though that’s not listed. And still, there’s this light note of the sparkling bubbles of champagne. It makes me a bit tipsy. And then I get a slight headache and feel nauseous. Ugh. I really feel like throwing up. Maybe it’s not the scent. I just looked too much into the past. Stirred too much in the family soup.
The heart is citrusy and too cold for me. The base consists of cashmere musk. The culprit transforms the daisy into marguerites, which smell like cheese to my nose.

Daisies have magic. They remind us of our childhood when we surrendered to moments, to those endless summers. Picking daisies in the meadows, weaving them into a chain, or giving them to Mom as a bouquet, the stems warm from a child's hand. How proud we were when she placed the daisies in a small vase.

Today, like most adults, we chase tomorrow, or a part of our selves wanders through the past. No matter what storms rage in life, what humans cause, the daisies are already there and will come back.
Childhood does not return (in many cases, that’s probably a good thing). The vanished land - that’s what Astrid Lindgren called the closed gate to childhood. When one morning she woke up and could no longer play. Something was lost forever.
Back at the hotel, I wash off the scent, which proves to be quite persistent. In my desperation, I smear toothpaste on the back of my hand and let it dry. That helps.
In the meantime, I’m back from W. and the bottle beautifies my desk. If any of my colleagues want to test Daisy, they are welcome. As long as I don’t have to water her. And if I’m ever in a bad mood, the bottle will bring sunshine to my face.
You are my sunshine, my only sunshine
You make me happy when days are blue

No matter what storms rage in life, what humans cause, the daisies will come back. I wouldn’t want to live in a land without daisies.
The bottle will remind me of W., where life began for me. W. is a vanished land, but without that vanished place, I wouldn’t exist. What am I looking for there? That’s another story. And Daisy reminds me of all those past moments.

By the way - today I could have used an aunt with a handkerchief. I was smeared with chocolate ice cream around my mouth. Oh well. I have Daisy.

The perfume actually smells like lipstick. Whoosh, I'm 6 years old, it's Carnival, and Hokulani - my little sister - and I are trying on the costumes that Mom sewed for us. We carefully slip into them so the pins don't poke us. For us, Mom takes the ones with the round, colorful heads.

At the Carnival ball, we wear our costumes. Mom dabs her lipstick on our cheeks, blends it a little, and somehow we like it and somehow we don't. Our mom hardly ever wears lipstick. There's one in the bathroom, shiny pink, I love this color and every now and then I take off the cap and smell it. It's just the feeling on our cheeks when she draws a circle with the lipstick and blends it that we don't really like.

Hokulani wears a top made of grass-green felt with appliqués on it - a lantern, a bright red fly agaric with white spots, and a hammer. On her head is a pointed cap, also made of grass-green felt.
For me, Mom sewed a skirt from lilac fabric, like the flower cup of the bellflower. And a hat - on my head sits a flower, with a short, dark green stem on top.
With the costumes, Mom guessed our souls - later, when I outgrew the bellflower, she sewed me a princess dress. And Hokulani will be a bellflower until her costume becomes too small as well. Princess - no, Hokulani never wanted to be that, and I never wanted to be a garden gnome. The costumes suited our childlike souls, and somehow I am still a princess today, and Hokulani is delicate like a fairy in the bellflower grove.

All of this is Lipstick Rose for me, which smells very similar to the lipstick back then, also with that slightly greasy note. Maybe it's the blend of rose and violet that I like so much. Vanilla gives the scent a light sweetness, vetiver prevents it from becoming too sticky. According to the official website, the top notes are grapefruit, violet, and rose, the heart consists of blackcurrant and iris, and the base is vanilla, sandalwood, and musk. The scent doesn't develop much, and I can't pick out blackcurrant, grapefruit, or iris. I float on clouds and feel happy. I remember how Mom used to put on makeup, which was very rare and gave her something mysterious, because Hokulani and I didn't know her that way. We watched her, and when she was gone, a hint of lipstick and the act of beautifying lingered in the bathroom, so we didn't feel so abandoned when she went out with Dad and an older cousin watched over us. This scent reminds me of that other world, when Mom transformed like a butterfly. When I wear this scent, I feel more elegant and stylish...a little more ladylike...and I keep playing with the thought of making it my signature scent. Every time I wear it, I feel more beautiful...and think of the old lipstick and our mother's tailoring skills...

For centuries, the moon has exerted a mysterious attraction on us humans. The cause of ebb and flow, it has been and continues to be an inspiration for poets and dreamers, painters and musicians.
The moon has risen, Dark Side of the Moon, Moonlight Shadow, and Moonlit Night - my favorite poem by Eichendorff, whose lyrical beginning makes me soar and whose ending breaks my heart every time. Jules Verne - De la Terre á la Lune. The journey to the moon - a science fiction film in 1902 - became a reality in 1969.

The moon leads people into depth, to themselves. Seemingly unattainable, it faithfully orbits the Earth. Its far side is never shown to us.
Everyone is a moon and has a dark side which he never shows to anybody.
(Mark Twain)
I could go on forever raving about the moon in paintings, poems, and songs.
Much-sung moon and now also the namesake of fragrances. Moon Dance is the name given by Juliette has a gun to the scent from the Luxury Collection in the silver transparent bottle with violet liquid. A curved script with shadows adorns the flacon. The perfumer is Romano Ricci, great-grandson of Nina Ricci. With Juliette has a gun, he has realized his dreams. And as often in his fragrances, he composes contrasts into a harmonious whole.

Moon Dance starts with slightly musty bergamot. Dark rose and tuberose dance around each other. A violet joins in, dancing with both.
Interwoven with moonlight is patchouli... I usually don’t like patch... too cellar-like, too earthy. But maybe that’s exactly what a dance on the moon needs - something that grounds it. The silvery cool moonbeam needs the earthy warmth of patchouli.
The scent becomes powdery. Slightly sweet, without becoming too sweet.
Even if one doesn’t like patch or tuberose, the scent is very harmonious. Only in the first hour does it clash.
A beautiful, erotic scent that imparts a mystical, mysterious aura. A faithful companion for the evening, for going out and for intimate moments for two.
Seductive, elegant, noble…wicked…A scent with depth. A scent that unites contrasts. Romantic and provocative, devoted and independent. For people who love and live passion! For Romeo and Juliet, who now has a gun.
The moon borrows its light from the sun. Its silver mirror on the water fascinates… it will still be there when we are no more… the fear of infinity, of one’s own finitude…
Until then, I live my dark sides and dance with Moon Dance

“The Germans didn’t buy that,” explains the nice gentleman at the Guerlain stand after correcting my pronunciation. Suffle, like the little drunk, not Suuufleee.
I’m annoyed with myself. I had tested the perfume in Wroclaw (Wrots-uaw - the l is pronounced with a little line like a quick ua, somewhat like in English well - the English say Wrots-love).
There it was available at D. And here it’s not at all? It’s not listed on the website, nor in the neighboring country. Very, very annoying, as I thought I could buy the scent at the airport in Wroclaw. Unfortunately, they didn’t have it there. And now it’s not available anywhere in Germany? Grumble.
If you look at the list of proud owners of the fragrance, they are scattered all over the world - Belgium, Romania, and Latvia, from Vietnam to Hong Kong to Australia and the USA. It seems to be available everywhere, only Guerlain-Germany didn’t buy it? Why - I had forgotten to ask the nice gentleman this question.

About the scent:
Starts with green notes. Nothing special, I thought.
But then - it’s as if it becomes bright on the wrist. The day breaks over Shalimar. White flowers unfold their fragrance. Indian jasmine enchants the senses. The air is filled with orange blossoms. A dream of a garden. Drunk on this shiny, radiant heart, it shines into my own heart and brings a smile to my face. With a rapturous smile, I walk through the world. No matter what misfortune may come, in the garden of love, it can’t harm me. The vanilla is wonderfully soft and benzoin rounds out the base, making it creamy. A cuddly scent.

And what does this have to do with the original Shalimar?
The sapphire blue bottle takes the shape of the bottle designed by Raymond Guerlain in 1925. The curves symbolize the water basins in the Shalimar gardens, and the fan-shaped stopper represents the eternal fountains.
Whoever wears Shalimar succumbs to their own sensuality - so Jacques Guerlain about the Shalimar he created. The Souffle Intense is creamier, softer, greener, and at least just as enchanting.

I seriously considered traveling to Wroc?aw again. First of all, I love the city with its open, colorful atmosphere, and secondly, they have Shalimar Souffle Intense there.
I ended up getting the scent after all - in the souk, thanks to a lovely parfuma. It will be almost a year until my next trip to Wroclaw with a visit to the Botanical and Japanese Gardens. Until then, I travel thanks to Shalimar Souffle Intense to other realms, to the garden of my dreams.

The oriental scent is wearable on cool days, more for ladies, but also for bold gentlemen. It exudes style and elegance and a sense of well-being. Opulent sensuality with an addictive factor.

Roses can be tricky, as the Little Prince knew. These roses here are from Grasse, not proud, diva-like roses. Rosa centifolia, the hundred-petaled rose, also known as the Provence rose or Rose de Peintre, can often be found in the paintings of Dutch and Flemish artists - magnificent still lifes with full roses.

The white bottle shimmers like mother-of-pearl and feels pleasant in the hand - a true delight - like a shell that you have found. Only, the scent has nothing to do with the sea.

The fragrance starts floral, the rose is immediately present. There is something fruity as well; I think I smell blackberry, although blackcurrants are listed in the fragrance pyramid. Then I think I smell white flowers and - the rose. The scent becomes brighter. Like in the morning, when the night gives way to the day and it suddenly becomes bright, without the sun being visible. I only know this impression from Guerlain. At some point, it becomes slightly powdery, but not dusty, not too much powder.

Nothing here is intrusive or overly contrived. All the fragrance notes are finely intertwined. The longevity is good, and the sillage is in the medium range. You can feel from the very beginning that this is a noble rose - a pearl. A valuable floral bouquet, captured in a bottle adorned with small pearls. A feminine, elegant scent, also well wearable in very high temperatures.