Aromantica

I'm not saying that little Peachy deserved a screamingly colorful bottle. But no one would have looked for a beautiful, heavy silk scarf where she stood.

Some fragrances settle on my neck and tell me stories. Top note, heart note, base note, introduction, main part, and conclusion. Others send me a cloud of good mood from my wrist. And then there are the scent veils. Those that, with their top notes, soon have little to do with what follows, that envelop me and beautify the world before my eyes with their colors. They even send their splashes of color further out. Ah - my counterpart sees the colors too. Oh - he smiles in fascination. Maybe he doesn't even know exactly why. That was Peach Blossom.
I have given up on recognizing the individual notes. It is simply not like the other fragrances in the line. I can still remember the obviously recognizable pear from "next door." It was called Pear Blossom. But Peach Blossom does not have the grumpy-fresh bergamot at the beginning, no blackberries, black currants, or the scent of white peach in the sugar shock dose of a bag full of sweet candies, as the fragrance pyramid might suggest. It is not vanilla, which can often be so sticky. The kind that, when it comes from the chemistry lab, clings heavily and dominantly to all thoughts and can simply get on your nerves. It is not the dream team of iris and musk, which sometimes takes cleanliness to such extremes that I would prefer to wash both off. It is not the good-mood coconut that can quickly become too much for some people. I also cannot find a seductively delicious dessert with addictive qualities - that would be the tonka bean. When you know it, sometimes the mimosa sparkles through. When you know it, you find them all again. But it is something entirely different that makes this fragrance simply beautiful.
Peach Blossom is friendly and positive, but never annoyingly sweet or overly synthetic-fruity. Peach Blossom is not one of those fragrance waters that remind you more of ice pops and will certainly not be reborn as coconut sunscreen. And by no means is Peach Blossom one of the "more dominant" representatives that splash fruit juice in water bomb quantities into the faces of its wearers and everyone around them, so that everyone knows what it's made of. Peach Blossom is also not a self-assured diva whose words linger in the room even after she has left, because a mix of fresh citrus fruits and seductive flowers ensures that she is not forgotten. It may be that the first notes disappear in seconds. But I find them everywhere again. What I particularly liked: Among all the fruit juice splashes, Peach Blossom has a deeper note. Not a threatening one, but like a dark, calming cloth. A scent veil. A beautiful, heavy silk scarf that, when spread out, has the makings of a cozy blanket when one needs it. Comfortable and inviting. One you can dive under, close your eyes, and play your favorite song. One for moments that inspire trust, in oneself and in the people with whom you share such moments. How alone I have felt among all my expensive bottles when I was actually looking for my cozy blanket, the one from the little 30-euro bottle.

No, it’s not business class. It’s not first class either. It’s the private jet. Really. First of all, many thanks to Voluptatem, who described it so appetizingly. It’s been three years since I stomped into the perfume store, determined to get to know this scent. And it was love at first sight. It’s true, it starts with a fully ripe cedar. With careless dosing, it can escalate in a flash - just one moment of inattention and you get the powerful young branches right in your face. Today I know, it can be different. In any case, the finish is divine. Even if my inner Swabian rebelled, eventually the bottle arrived here. Special gifts for particularly cherished, unique people, to whom you’d love to lay the world at their feet. I tested it to give it as a gift. Only the saleswoman had given me a sample spray on my wrist, where I was wearing a leather bracelet at that time. The slightest breeze was enough and there it was again - the private jet. At first, I would never have thought that it was still in that bracelet. I even suspected companies of enriching their air conditioning systems with particularly exquisite CI scents. Until one day the penny dropped. So there I was again in the perfume store, throwing longing glances at the Royal Oud. A very kind saleswoman could no longer bear to watch and filled an empty sample plastic tube from the test bottle for me. This little bottle accompanied me everywhere for two years, especially in situations where I could use an extra dose of self-confidence, and even in particularly beautiful moments, I sometimes just had to have it by my side. And sometimes as a comforter. Encourager. World improver. Miracle healer. Depending on the situation. Due to the tiny spray amounts, there was still a small remainder in the tube until recently. Until I boarded the plane, where the big bottle stands that I gave away back then. How I had looked forward to this trip, to see its owner again. Only at some point, a very intense scent started coming from my suitcase. Yes, my faithful companion lay in two pieces in the side pocket and had released the last milliliters of the liquid into my suitcase. At some point, it became clear that I now needed a bottle like that too. A big one :) Royal Oud also makes a good impression as a women’s fragrance, at least I was able to handle various situations in its company. Only, when the big bottle finally arrived, one thing became clear to me: There are scents that are true masters of frugality. And I don’t mean that the scent from the original bottle is worse than from the plastic. But such a big bottle also gives much stronger spray bursts. And that can really knock you off your feet with the cedar at the beginning. Since I became aware of this, I usually take off the golden cap over the spray nozzle and only take a drop. A splash bottle would be optimal. But for anyone who finds the beginning too strong, that could be a real option ;) Royal Oud is not a scent that needs to shout for attention. Whether it’s oud or the whole combination, I don’t know. It fascinates. Inspires. You like it. Because it is what it is. And it lasts, all night. Until morning.

So you are not a sweet one, little nomad... at first, I wasn't quite sure if you would feel at home with me, next to my new Carolina Herrera from the airport, which is so completely different from who you are. The high heels from Herrera would be unnecessary baggage in your eyes. You would move on without them, graceful as a gazelle. For you are a girl of the desert, standing on your bare soles amidst the dunes. You dance in the swirling sand, to the rhythm of the drums, in the evening by the campfire. Some time has passed since your caravan left the oasis. You took the most beautiful blooms with you on your long journey, deep down in your pockets. Your swirling veils spread their scent to the sound of oud, mingling with the mint tea following Oum Souhail's recipe, which includes two slices of dried citrus fruits. Out into the night of the desert, where there is nothing but sand, from which your cloths protect you. And above you are only the stars. You trust them; they help you find your way. For you know where you want to go. No one can hold you back if you don't want to be held. Proud and free you are, like the wild stallion that accompanies you. Not only animals, but also people appreciate your company. You have often shown them the way when no one knew where to go. At night you asked the stars for advice and told the others stories until morning. You were often asked who your teacher was. And you never told them that it was your own stories that gave them confidence on their odyssey. Once, you showed an expedition the way. They had gotten stuck with their SUV. As a farewell, one of the men handed you a sand rose he had bought in the city. In your life, you had seen some of these bizarre formations, but this one you wear as an amulet around your neck. The stranger had beautiful eyes. He said thank you, nothing more. I wonder where he is now? Dubai? Europe? America? If the stars will it, you will find out one day.

It begins with Calabrian charisma. Bright, radiant citrus accords, not sharp, almost tangerine-like, form the prelude to a masterpiece. A sparkle in her eyes. Iris blue. A hint of cinnamon hovers over the tempered lobby. The scent of freshly showered skin. Sunscreen. The door to the outside opens, the summer breeze carries the aroma of thyme from the garden to her table. At the neighboring table, there is a bowl of fruit. She takes a pear and returns to her notebook. The staccato of her heels fills the spacious, sunlit hall. This life, her life, it is so wonderful. Fresh flowers are on the table. White, fragrant flowers, just bloomed. Her gaze falls on the black wick of the candle beside it. The room had looked so festive the night before. In the mirror on the ceiling, she sees a young lady, a notebook, a smartphone, well-groomed, carefully manicured hands, busy typing fingers, a cup of jasmine tea. The translucent fabric of her blouse reminds one of the rising sun, her dark, flowing hair almost conceals the small, sparkling stones in her earlobes and on the silver chain around her neck. She appears calm, at peace with herself. Once again, the door to the outside opens. She lifts her gaze. A group, women, men, about a dozen. She does not know them. Respectful nods in her direction. She smiles at them. One of the newcomers receives a call. A frown on his forehead. He shouts into his phone, in a language she does not understand. She searches for his gaze. Friendly. Reconciliatory. The crease on his forehead disappears. A bit calmer, he ends his conversation. She turns back to her notebook. Her smartphone vibrates. Twice long. The display lights up. A pair of eyes shines back at her. Dark amber. She smiles and looks again at the mirror. Never before has she been so happy. Her smile. A radiance that seems to fill the entire, large room. A scent. Vanilla. Cookies. Probably from the kitchen. One page after another, she fills with her thoughts, her ideas. Once more, the smartphone vibrates. Just once. A message, the sender she knows from work. "Hey, do you have time for me tonight? I would love to get to know you better. There’s a nice restaurant near me." She raises her eyebrows and sends a brief reply. "I have already found someone for whom I would leave everyone else. I’m sorry." The scent from the kitchen has grown stronger. Cherry pie. She used to spend a lot of time in the kitchen. She still loves to first ponder at the market what she would like for dinner, and then spend the whole evening at the stove, enjoying flavors, spices, and good music, singing along, dancing. But she finds herself doing this less and less often. Again the door opens. Another group of newcomers. A middle-aged gentleman in a tailored suit, a younger man in a light blue shirt, a lady in a red suit. I wonder if they are nice? Red. Her favorite color since she can remember. Memories of a completely different time. She smiles. Once more she looks up. Which magazine was it in that she read that you wouldn’t see red underwear under light clothing? Even this little stylistic faux pas she lets disappear under her hair. A grin plays around the corners of her mouth. Red. A little superstition must be there. Again, the phone vibrates. Twice. She would go through hell for him, and not just once, that’s for sure. Time to check the inbox for messages. Of course, it is full, but that’s okay. No problem without a solution. On the table stands the fifth cup of jasmine tea next to a greeting from the kitchen, exuding the scent of warm vanilla. Once more, she sits up straight to address the last topics for the day. One last point, then she takes the notebook and heads outside. It is early evening. The ground beneath her feet is still warm. From the windows comes the scent of various shower additives, mixing with the aromas from the kitchen. From her bag comes the vibration alert of the smartphone, twice. It’s high time to shed the business lady persona. She smiles and walks. Her life - she loves it.

Reconciliatory, warm, tea-like-fruity. For me, there's a hint of rose and a touch of the juniper-mint-ouzo note that is often referred to as gin. While it doesn't have particularly layered nuances, it is excellent for warming up more straightforward scents. I don't get any headaches from it at all.