Asphaltblume

Anyone who frequently takes the S-Bahn on the North-South line in Berlin knows the olfactory horror on wheels, the unbelievably stinking wheelchair user who regularly rolls through the trains begging.
During my last encounter, I could smell him from the other end of the double carriage and took flight at the next opportunity, with my nose buried in my scarf. I urgently needed a fragrant antidote, preferably one with which I could create a scented shield for the next encounter (which I was already expecting that same evening), and I dashed into Rossmann in the 10 minutes I had left to transfer, quickly scanning the shelf with the accessible fragrances. S. Oliver always has nice things, maybe something new...? I quickly sprayed "So pure" on my left hand and "Soulmate" on my right and decided after a brief sniff that I preferred Soulmate, especially since it had more power. Off to the checkout and down to the train!

Soulmate starts fresh with a citrus note, which is mixed with a hint of bubblegum. The citrus quickly takes a backseat, and the fragrance develops a slightly aquatic floral sweetness that I find quite enchanting. And that says a lot, as I usually have a love-hate relationship with aquatic notes. As it progresses, woody notes join in, which I sometimes perceive as quite masculine, but they are softly enveloped by an increasingly prominent vanilla note. The floral aspect has largely disappeared, and in the dry down, the fragrance breathes a skin-close, delicately woody vanilla note with a hint of aquatic freshness.

I like Soulmate. A surprisingly unobtrusive and everyday-friendly companion, considering the backstory, friendly, fresh, and relaxed in a good mood.
The boss fight is still pending; I haven't encountered the wheelchair user again. But this time I'm not unarmed: Soulmate is readily at hand in my bag.
(By the way: I realize that this man is a very poor fellow, but he really does stink atrociously.)

It is not so easy to write a comment about a fragrance for which there are no "official" notes to guide you.
"Vert Galant" was also a blind purchase; not even the name of the designer meant anything to me, the simple white box with equally simple lettering - in sans-serif slender green block letters the name of the fragrance, in silver cursive with a coat of arms-like logo the rest - hung, inaccessible and sealed, in the Snow White coffin at TK Maxx and tempted me with the combination of mystery and low price to take a gamble.
Not even a "pour femme" or "pour homme" gives away the white sphinx easily.

However... true Francophiles or -phones might find a hint in the name:
"Le Vert Galant" is a nickname of the French King Henri IV (the one who wanted every Frenchman to have his chicken in the pot on Sundays) and refers to the fact that he pleased various mistresses even at an advanced age. The nickname is meant to be quite complimentary; I couldn't find an adequate translation into German. At the western tip of the Île de la Cité in Paris, below the Pont Neuf, there is a small square and park named Square or Jardin du Vert-Galant, thanks to an equestrian statue of Henri IV.
(However, I had sensed a connection to Galanthus nivalis, the snowdrop, and expected a cooler women's fragrance. Far from it...
But see for yourself.)

From the eagerly opened box, I took out a classically shaped bottle: a rectangular, angular block of clear glass, with the front and back sides fluted and the narrow sides smooth. The upper half is adorned with a matte silver metal plate, on which, alongside the embossed initials GR in an ornate frame with a crown above, the simply written name of the fragrance is displayed again. The cap is a rectangular block of clear plastic with a matte silver metal plate on top, simply embossed with Georges Rech. Overall, the bottle gives a valuable, classically simple impression.

So what is inside, how does the lightly greenish liquid smell?
My first impression was: Modern, sweet, pleasant, somehow familiar. Warm, woody notes, lavender, coffee, a hint of orange: Vert Galant bears a distinct resemblance to Penhaligon's Endymion, is equally wearable for men and women, but is likely to come off even more seductive on men.
The longevity is commendable, and the fragrance quickly becomes more intimate. Over time, lavender and orange recede more into the background, while coffee and woody notes (sandalwood, a bit of cedar, a hint of vetiver) come to the forefront. I also perceive an amber note and a touch of vanilla. In the dry down, musk becomes noticeable.

In direct comparison, Endymion is indeed significantly more nuanced and stronger than Vert Galant, especially the notes I perceive as "aftershave-like" and masculine are more pronounced in the former. And while Vert Galant evaporates as a soft musk fragrance that has little to do with the top and heart notes, Endymion remains true to itself until the end and is clearly identifiable. However, a general similarity cannot be denied.

Divina, the Divine, starts off fruity and strawberry-like, and indeed, a champagne note is present in the top notes. I hardly perceive the mandarin, at least not as a citrus note. Quickly, the fragrance is complemented by a certain floral quality reminiscent of care products; orange blossom is recognizable, as is jasmine. The rose remains in the background but may contribute to my creamy impression.
Divina is fruity and sweet, but well-balanced, neither sticky nor cloying, cheerful and carefree, yet not childish, sunny but not without a certain depth. In the heart, this special combination of fine fruits and noble champagne transforms with elegant flowers, complemented by supportive yet soft, bright, warm notes, delicately woody, distinctly but not overwhelmingly vanillic, and yes, a warm, adult hint of amber, into a very beautiful, rounded, softly floral, unobtrusively present fragrance that would be suitable for almost any occasion.
Only the grand, dramatic entrance is not mastered by the Divine; however, it would not counteract it either, as this fragrance is indeed elegant and mature. It cannot be loud, perhaps even vulgar. By the way, it doesn’t lend itself to sweaty sports either. For me, this is by no means a disadvantage.
Strawberries with cream and champagne are indeed the epitome of Wimbledon, but not on the Centre Court, rather in the spectator's box, and that fits.
Divina is one of my go-to fragrances, a reliable choice, simply beautiful but not generic.
The longevity is decent at 4-5 hours, after which Divina is only still perceptible directly on the skin, but of course, not record-breaking. Fortunately, the Divine is not particularly fleeting for me.
The rounded bottle is without any frills, simple and elegant, yet functional.

A very simple bottle, clear and angular, but the inner walls are slightly curved.

After spraying, a gentle-fresh scent unfolds that is simultaneously citrusy, woody, and subtly floral. The fragrance is decidedly unisex, soft and floral enough to suit women and fresh and woody enough not to raise any eyebrows among men. A cologne? The bergamot isn't even dominant at the beginning, and it evaporates quite quickly. From the pleasant remainder, I honestly can't pick out any of the listed notes at first.
Yes, it still smells woody-citrusy-floral, but while I now want to associate the citrus note with an orange, the wood and flowers are not so easily grasped. Sometimes they form an inseparable blend, then again they individually reach my olfactory cells.

Alongside this, a scent keeps brushing against my nose that seems completely out of place - a hint of swimming lessons: a wet bathing suit from chlorine water and a similarly wet rubber swim cap. This note from the 5th grade is not permanently present but nudges my receptors from time to time, and never when I hold my nose directly to the perfumed skin.

Vetyver Blanc becomes sweeter at its heart without losing its woodiness. I can't detect freesia, nor any other flower. Sandalwood? It could explain the combination of wood and orange note, but it has nothing of, for example, sandalwood soap.
Vetiver still holds back and only provides a trustworthy base.

Trustworthy is a good keyword; this fragrance from Lanvin radiates subtle grooming, calmness, and reliability. It might be called conservative if it could be more easily assigned to a gender according to conventions. However, as a true unisex scent, Vetyver Blanc does not allow for that. And despite all its restraint, it certainly has more presence than a soap scent! And I don't find it boring either.

In the base note, orange and floral aspects recede more into the background, and vetiver comes to the forefront.
While the top note was a bright, warm orange with white, the heart note is dominated by orange with brown, while in the base, brown takes the lead and acquires shades of gray-green tones. This is how I perceive this scent; I sense colors - that’s not normal for me. The final fade is a light gray-brown veil with mossy green flecks. I don't smell moss; that must be the vetiver. A rather light, clean vetiver, not the strong forest floor scent that the essential vetiver oil from the organic store has. It is still accompanied by airy flowers.

The longevity is rather weak; after four to five hours, only a scent identifiable for truffle dogs can be perceived. The sillage is also restrained. This is not a statement scent but a close-to-skin aura of individual grooming.
I like to use Vetyver Blanc when I am looking for a light, unobtrusive companion for the day that radiates a gentle warmth yet also has a certain bitterness.

After the descriptions, it was clear: I want to have it! Moreover, it is said that grapefruit scent makes a woman appear younger because the natural body odor of pubescent girls contains a grapefruit-like component. And so, the olfactory fountain of youth became mine through a blind purchase.
To put it briefly: Grapefruit is accurate, fruity is accurate, summery is also not wrong. Whether it is rejuvenating, I cannot say.
What I can say, however, is that I do not like to smell like this, even if it were to catapult me olfactorily back to the braces age. I perceive a subtle sweat-like note, surrounded by a citrusy freshness that reminds me quite a bit of girls' locker rooms and slightly overwhelmed deodorant. Various humiliations come rushing back, so I prefer to leave the 16-year-old grapefruit to others.