Bananenmilch

In a forum post, someone writes about you - a fragrance that is said to smell like milk and unicorns. I'm not really taken by this description, yet my interest is somehow piqued. I pull up your Parfumo entry and read through a few statements and reviews. Time and again, there is talk of milk, coconuts, and unicorns. You are said to be magical, but what does magic smell like?

I like milk, but I can't imagine anything under a milk scent.

I'm averse to coconut, as I associate it with exaggerated Bounty sweetness and artificially scented deodorants and body lotions that are tropically trimmed.

Lastly, the frequently mentioned symbol of a "unicorn" should actually deter me the most. I can't help but think of the colors pink and silver, excessive glitter, sticky sweetness, and little girls playing with their "My Little Pony" plush unicorns, refusing to take off their carnival tutus with matching fairy wings. The unicorn hype of the past few years has likely contributed to this kitsch being the first thing that comes to my mind (the inevitable mugs, pencil cases, T-shirts... with slogans like "Unicorn Princess," "Always be a unicorn," "Unicorns are real" - you get what I mean).

However, you were not described here as overly sweet nor associated with pink princesses. Apparently, you are not a kitschy girly scent - but what are you then? Rice pudding from grandma, unicorns under coconut palms...
I can't imagine anything of the sort and decide to form my own opinion of you. A few days later, two milliliters of unicorn milk arrive in my mailbox. When I apply you for the first time, I finally begin to understand.

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To me, you are creamy. As creamy as a dessert, like a thick, warm rice pudding or a crème brûlée, even if you don't smell like that. Does that make sense?

You are also sweet, but your sweetness is moderate and one with your creaminess. You are not sticky or sugary. "Sweet" is not an attribute that comes to my mind immediately when I smell you, but something I attribute to you when I think about it consciously.

I can understand the frequently read coconut association, but I don't believe I would have connected you with it on my own. The interplay of your notes somehow reminds me of coconut, but it's not quite there - very hard to describe.

To me, you are gentle and at peace within yourself, quiet and mysterious.

To me, you are warm and soft, your sillage is a cozy blanket that warms on cold days.

To me, you are a soul comforter that caresses the heart and envelops me in security.

Your name is Blanche Bête, "the white beast."
Of course. You are a unicorn, now I finally understand.
I was completely wrong in my initial thoughts. You are neither pink nor kitschy nor girly - no, you are the true beast from the fable world, legendary, alive, and warm under your fur. I can vividly picture you standing in a moonlit clearing in a dark forest, your white form illuminated by the moonlight.

At this point, I want to refer back to Harry Potter, because just as the unicorn is described by J.K. Rowling, I imagine you: as the incredibly pure, rare, and shy creature with silvery blood, sought after by dark figures because it possesses healing and life-extending powers. You live in dark and enchanted forests, and you rarely show yourself to a human. To those who do catch a glimpse of you, it is said to bring indescribable luck.

I suspect there won't be many who have played "Hogwarts Legacy." The game immerses you in the magical world of the Harry Potter universe. Throughout the story, you can rescue various magical creatures from poachers and keep them in different vivariums. Since unicorns are mysterious beings that live in dark forests despite their bright selves, it makes sense to let them inhabit the "swamp vivarium," a mystical, gloomy place where it is always night.

In this vivarium, there is always a melancholic, mysterious, yet so comforting melody playing, which I now inextricably associate with the unicorns I have let inhabit there. For me, this melody and the whole atmosphere of a shimmering, delicate unicorn amidst the moonlit darkness perfectly describe this fragrance.
If you're interested, feel free to listen and let it wash over you:

https://youtu.be/P7ZinqyVSrM?si=_GjBotDUKziUlflt

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Thanks to Louise Turner for this beautiful creation. I'm usually more of a statement type, but "Blanche Bête" has inspired me to write a longer comment. In a statement, I wouldn't have been able to do justice to this fragrance: although I perceive it as an absolute autumn/winter cuddler that warms you from the inside out and somehow fills you with happiness, it also has this magical and mysterious touch that makes it extraordinary.

First of all: this fragrance was a gift, and I am aware that as a child of the late 90s, I probably do not belong to the target group. This scent is personally reserved for women over 50 for me, as I can hardly imagine this heavy, musty, synthetic-moldy musk on younger people.

After wearing it at home for a day, I searched for it here on Parfumo and was, to put it mildly, surprised by the many positive reviews. However, I then read that it evokes nostalgic memories for many people of their own youth or the scent of beloved family members, so I can understand it after all.

I have no personal connections to this fragrance and can therefore only share my unbiased impressions.

After the first spray on my wrist, I immediately regretted that I had to try it right now, as it is storming and raining outside, because I felt an immediate need to open all the windows. The scent is extremely penetrating and heavy for my nose, even with just one spray - it feels like it is already settling into all the textiles in the room while I type this text. It hangs heavily in the air and is a guaranteed headache for me indoors.

For some reason, this fragrance evokes extreme associations with RTL trash shows like "Frauentausch," "Mitten im Leben," and the like. A massive tiled table stands in front of a worn black leather sofa, and a tasteless wall sticker is stuck to the wall, probably something with "Coffee" and flying birds. "Musk" smells exactly like this apartment or the person living in it in my imagination.

The only "positive" thing I can say about the fragrance is its above-average sillage and longevity. Those who like this scent can enjoy it for a long time. Those who do not like it are out of luck, as it is really hard to get rid of.

I find the smell terribly cheap and penetrating - the kind of penetrating that makes you wrinkle your nose in the supermarket when a fellow shopper, heavily perfumed with it, pushes their cart past you. I think there are some inexpensive (drugstore) fragrances that you absolutely cannot tell are cheap - this one is for me the definition of a "cheap perfume" that smells much cheaper than it actually is.