Aolani

Untitled - we know that from modern pictures. In painting, the viewer finishes the picture. He determines what he sees in it. Does anything similar apply to perfumes?
Imagine, Schiller's robbers were called "Untitled I". Would the piece have the same success? Would books sell without titles? The idea of naming a perfume Untitled was unusual.
With a perfume we don't just buy a fragrance, we buy a piece of hope that our desires will be fulfilled. That's why I don't believe that a series - as in painting - Untitled I, Untitled II - would promote sales in perfumery.
Untitled is a lovely green - no green hell, no pricking grass, but soft and cuddly. A tiny hint of flower blows with it. A gentle green scent that people who have never had anything to do with green scents also like. I don't feel the scent bitter or smoky. Everything seems very harmoniously composed. A green one for beginners. For me as a perfuma that is still green behind the ears, a real surprise. Noble, elegant and something different.

Dear Happy,
yesterday I sprayed you up and expected my familiar, beloved fragrance. I loved Your merriment, which was never loud or oppressive and which made me cheerful, even when thunderstorms were going through my interior. With you, I felt safe in life.
But the familiar pleasant smell failed to appear. I waited. And waited. Everything I smelled seemed synthetic. Where's my girlfriend? Happy, where are you?
Full of melancholy, I sneaked through the day. It reminded me of everything we had experienced together. All painful and beautiful, all life avalanches and pink clouds. I sighed. Because I knew what would come inevitably.
I don't know how to tell you this.
I, I have another...
Of course I'll give us another chance. But I'm afraid we'll split up.
My life used to be simple. In winter Must de Cartier, you in summer and in between Helmut Lang. The Helmut did not exist any more and so the summer time with you was extended until the first snow and the winter time with Cartier until April.
And now this. I've become a perfumer. And our love, Happy, has become stale. Oh, Happy. I am sad.

Cherry earrings. Rose buds that promise summers. May roses stretch their flower heads through the wooden fence. Ways full of yellow mimosa flowers. Jasmine exudes a beguiling scent on the wall of the house, not noticed by anyone. In the old kitchen rice grains between cracked tiles. A scent of fleeting happiness still lies in the air.

I had to test the pink Softly because of its color. I am probably never outgrown the pink phase ;-)
Short stitch, then beautiful top note - cherry and something with roses.
The fragrance develops very beautifully, delicately floral. Lovely.
Then even rosier thanks to Mairose. The jasmine is unique. Weak mimosa. But it gets nice and powdery and pleasantly sweet. After less than three hours, the shelf life is noticeably or rather noticeably less. I love fragrances with a long shelf life, which is why I spray myself generously on the body with softly floral water and bathe in a pink cloud of happiness.

Calabria - I've always wanted to go there. Just not with bergamot. I don't like them. Too pushy and strict.
I'm sniffing the bottle. Phew, that bergamottet. It takes me to overcome pressing the spray button. Ua, this is how I must walk now. All right, just one wrist. Even that's too much for me.
After some time, the fragrance becomes softer, smoother. The nose-biting bergamot says goodbye. Almost seamlessly the fragrance changes into musk. I'm not allowed to breathe on it, then it bergamotzt immediately again. No, it's ginger and cardamom. Spicy, sweetish-hot. I'm surprised at you. Really, I didn't think I'd like a perfume with so much bergamot. Bergamot always seemed to me like a strict teacher with a hair knot or like an old great-aunt you visit. One falls in love with her biscuits because she is happy, although one can hardly swallow the biscuits. In the apartment it smells strange and shortly before you leave, you discover a perfume bottle with a brownish liquid in the bathroom.
This bergamot is younger, more pleasant, less brittle. Herb, but warmly. The fragrance is well balanced by the cloudy soft velvety musk base. Do I really have to get it? I'm not sure yet. Thanks to Aqua Allegoria I make friends with bergamot. We approach slowly, with each test we move a tiny bit closer to each other.
Overall a well made fragrance, perfect for the summer.

Juicy delicious lemon scent with good shelf life! I'm thrilled! In the heat, there is nothing better than lemon ice to cool down inside. Now there's Italian Zest. It makes me feel fresh and cool like a lemon sorbet, garnished with three leaves of lemon balm. Clearly a summer fragrance, also suitable for the office. You won't get on anyone's nerves with that - you'll see, the scent doesn't just lift your spirits!
The lemons are right there, you can almost taste them. Below it, the Granny Smith, very easily. The bamboo reminds me more of lemon balm. Then white roses and jasmine. Musk, cedar and amber round the whole thing off.
The bottle is simple - the only thing I don't like is the yellow cap. Faded plastic that has been lying too long in the sun. On the packaging the Faraglioni rocks before Capri in the sea. Bite kitschy, but strangely enough, I even like it. I want to go to Capri now! Gondola through Italy in an old, rickety car. The radio plays ancient hits - I set to full volume and sing along. Feel free like once the parents or grandparents in the 50s, 60s - Italy - longing goal of the Germans since Goethe. On Capri, take a fishing boat to the Blue Grotto and wander alone across the island. In the evening sit by the sea with a view of the Faraglioni, a glass of Limoncello in your hand, shout ahoy to the sailing yachts and then become quiet. Watch the sun sink into the sea as a glowing red ball of fire and become even quieter when the moon illuminates the rocks.