Baptiste

"Sous le Vent" is just as difficult to translate into German as it is to describe its scent.

Formally, the name describes the southern island group of the Antilles in the Caribbean, which lies "under the wind" of the northeast trade winds, meaning leeward or as the English call them "Leeward Islands".
Lee, the side sheltered from the wind, where the boat is steered. The wind-calm side, where the destination lies, the protective harbor.
The poetic translation would therefore hover somewhere between the wind-sheltered or gently wind-carried soul.

And that is exactly the soul of "Sous le Vent".
This is not a scent that defies a South Sea storm. It is not a billowing four-masted sail, nor a boat raging in the waves that is about to capsize, nor a loud rock in the surf.
"Sous le Vent" is warm and soft. A light, sweetly humming tropical air runs through it with the character of the green-forested South Sea islands. At the same time, it is thoroughly dry and calm, like after a tropical storm. Reflective, contemplative, perhaps a bit too serious. Melancholic? Yes, in a way. Yet, amidst all this, it is a little bit sexy or let’s say rather erotic. But with character! A scent that makes you feel safe in the harbor. Arrived.

The mention or enumeration of the individual scent components is not worth the effort. One will never be able to imagine the scent without having smelled it themselves, as the ingredients are woven together so perfectly. The sillage is very pleasant, and the longevity lasts at least 6-8 hours.

"Sous le Vent" is one of the most beautiful, elegant, and characterful scents I know. A high art. I do not perceive it as old-fashioned in any way. Sure, it is unusual for today’s fragrance trends and perhaps the younger generation especially finds it more difficult to connect with it. But if you get the chance to try it, you absolutely should. This applies to both women and men.

Sous le Vent. A dream carried by the wind.

I apologize for the headline and I'm not sure if I'll get away with it here, but it was simply the first thing that came to mind when spraying and smelling Versus Uomo.

My God, how time flies and how it suddenly catches up with you on your wrist with just one spray...

So... Mannheim 1991, I was in my early twenties, had my first 15 sqm apartment, barely any money, the future was uncertain, the job situation was far from resolved, and I just wanted to "live".
1991, the beginning of the 90s, we were still under the spell of Madonna's Vogue, slowly saying goodbye to the pastel colors and shoulder pad blazers of the 80s, the Brit-pop look was slowly washing over to us, house music was the only thing you heard, and on 6 out of 7 nights we hit the nightlife at the expense of our dark circles. The love life was undefined, we dreamed, gathered a few first awkward sexual experiences, and still, as fresh and "tight" as we were, believed in that one great sincere love. Sigh.

Of course, in all this chaos, it was important never to smell like the others and to have all the new things first. Antaeus and Fahrenheit were so last decade, Versace Uomo was THE new thing on the fragrance horizon.

The opening is very citrusy, and you can clearly smell the lavender that was very popular in the 80s. The base character of the fragrance, through clove, jasmine, and petitgrain, is also quite quickly present. However, I find it difficult overall to describe the scent itself. Versus presents a sweet, floral, somewhat spicy scent with a tendency towards the artificial, almost "plastic"-like fragrance progression. Towards the end, it becomes warmer, finer, and less "piercing". The sillage is good; you can wear it during the day as well as for going out.

Versus Uomo is absolutely not a men's fragrance in the classical sense, but clearly caters to the noses of the younger generation. Now that I am twenty years older, the question remains whether today's twenty-year-olds feel the same way or if they dismiss Versus Uomo as an old man's scent. For all those who remember it from back then and crave a touch of old school, I guarantee a special flashback to those vibrant youth years. Whether happy, embarrassing, or sexually successful, you'll have to decide for yourselves :)

Unfortunately, the fragrance was discontinued sometime in the early 2000s, but you can still acquire it quite cheaply online...

The diligent, culture-conscious traveler of today enjoys sightseeing. Besides crumbling ancient debris, it is mainly the small chapels, churches, or monastery complexes that are highly recommended in the Baedeker or Marco Polo. And when the summer heat is shimmering outside, the cool nave is usually the only place to take a break and catch one’s breath.

Catch one’s breath?

You know how it is. As soon as you push open the heavy wooden door, the musty air of an unventilated sacristy hits you, and you take a seat with some discomfort on the sticky, moldy choir bench. Centuries of waving with burnt incense and myrrh have caused their scent to literally seep into the walls and wood.

Thanks to Profumum Roma, you can finally have this Catholic-Orthodox vacation experience at home. For hours, this church mustiness wafts over your skin. Dry, smoky, unsweet. Allegedly, amber has also been incorporated here. However, the priest must keep it tightly sealed in his tabernacle, because you can't smell it.

Why "aurea"? I can't think of anything related to this scent and the church in general.

As an amber fan and impressed by the other highly concentrated scents from Profumum Roma, I was very curious about this fragrance. However, I only tested the new version, which has apparently been reformulated to be more "smoky." Unfortunately, I am not familiar with the old original version.
That "Ambra aurea" is supposed to smell like "Soir de Marrakech" is something I would doubt. The counterpart "Akkad" by Lubin fits much better. Surprisingly, this scent has also dropped from the popularity list of unisex fragrances to position 47.

If you like smoky amber and don’t want to spray yourself with a clerical concentrate, in my opinion, you should rather get Armani's "Ambre Orient" or Maître Parfumeur et Gantiers' "Ambre Doré." Here, the concept is implemented much better.

I would have loved to enjoy the sightseeing in the land of Ambra aurea more, but for the next summer vacation, I will definitely book a different trip.

Thanks to Thierry Wasser, the queen of perfumes ascends the throne once again in its 3rd generation.
Initially, we were ruled by vanilla from the Comoros Islands, but after 2 years, Madagascar vanilla took the crown, only to pass the scepter to the over 1000-year-old and correspondingly expensive Aztec vanilla after a brief reign.
Thanks to the queen mother Shalimar, we experience in all 3 vanilla graces the softened base character of this fragrance, with each altering it by nuances according to its origin.

The current "Route du Mexique" vanilla will, and I am sure of this, soon displace the Madagascar vanilla from our top rating. The reason: it is more intense, longer-lasting, and has more character.
The opening is indeed fresh and distinctly citrusy with the smoky essence of the queen mother, which Madagascar vanilla rather lacks. The creamy-resinous-caramel vanilla is of course immediately present and is supported by the powderiness brought by the iris. Because what would Shalimar be without powderiness! Fortunately, the scent development overall unfolds more slowly than with the previous ones, which quickly drift into the rather monotonous creaminess and common base. However, I cannot discern the mentioned chocolate itself. And if it is there, it is so well integrated into the overall scent that one might think it is more like white chocolate.

Shalimar Ode à la Vanille - Sur la route du Mexique is not a wild oriental ruler like the queen mother. She is significantly milder to her subjects but also softer, more gourmand, and somehow warmer than her predecessors.

All 3 odes to vanilla are overall very, if not too, similar. This means that for outsiders, it will hardly make any difference which one they wear. And this naturally raises the question of whether Thierry Wasser now has to scour a new kingdom in the world every year for an incredibly old and rare vanilla queen?

I think it suffices to be a subject. And for me, that would definitely be the "Sur la Route du Mexique."

After an excellent consultation at Mannheim's Kurfürsten Parfümerie (aka Online Shop Essenza Nobile) and the words "I have something very special in stock..." a test strip sprayed with L'Ambre de Carthage was held under my nose, and my olfactory ears perked up.
You know how it is. With about 1 out of 28 test strips, you think "hm, yeah, okay," but only with 1 out of 72 do you exclaim delightedly throughout the store, "I’ll buy them all!" That’s how it was for me with L'Ambre de Carthage.

Amber as a building block in fragrance pyramids is well known to us. And there are also many scents with amber as the main theme. Often, they are too hipster-ish, overly sweet, sometimes "cheap," can be cloying, or fall victim to the overused oud-incense trend.
Where Armani with Ambre Orient, Tom Ford with Amber Absolute, or Serge Lutens with Ambre Sultan succumb to current mainstream trends, where Montale's Blue Amber has a challenging cool-metallic opening, where Histoires de Parfums with Ambre 114 quickly fades into a monotonous light sweetness, and where Maitre Parfumeur et Gantier spreads a sweet chocolate-amber bouquet with Ambre Precieux, L'Ambre de Carthage, in contrast, shows an astonishing restraint. This is precisely what I would call an understatement of elegant upper class.

L'Ambre de Carthage is not about the loud bazaar filled with spices, sweet treats, and smoky musty scent clouds, but rather about the relaxation after a strenuous desert ride in a shady oasis with cool drinks.
Thus, the opening is also unobtrusively sweet and fresh. A watery jasmine tea defines the top note, which fades only slowly. As it develops, the heart becomes slightly more balsamic, without labdanum or patchouli dominating. The transition to the base corresponds to the beginning of a cooler desert evening, where warm, soft oriental scent clouds linger long, allowing one to recover extensively after traveling in the scorching sun. You won’t find spices or a classic pronounced "masculine note" in this oasis.

Overall, the scent is very bright, soft, and shows a cautious sweetness that can be worn unrestricted in everyday life. It is anything but intrusive; you sense it more than smell it. The longevity is above average for my nose. Despite the label "Homme," it is clearly unisex.

Produced by Isabey as an exclusive fragrance back in 1924, disappearing from the market during the war turmoil of the 40s, and having been resurrected since 2006, we certainly do not have the original formula under our noses. Compared to perfumes from the 20s or 30s, e.g., from Chanel, Guerlain, etc., those definitely have more punch.

With its jasmine-amber composition, L'Ambre de Carthage is a fine, unobtrusive, very elegant gentleman's scent. Even if one does not want to categorize it into men's, women's, or unisex fragrances, it definitely deserves a heightened level of recognition!