Blanche

There are many of these fragrances that radiate nothing but pure carefreeness: young, zesty, fresh, light, sweet, fruity, playful, cute, naive, relaxed, unconsidered. Scents for people without worries. Lola exudes the charm of young girlhood, her skin as soft as a baby’s bottom, her bank account as empty as some thoughts (“If we didn’t eat animals, we wouldn’t know what to do with all that food”) and always a smile on her lips. She and the other flower girls enchant at first glance, but ultimately they don’t leave a lasting impression.

Lola is the girl who contentedly enjoys doing nothing barefoot on a meadow, because she still can. Her loose hair dances in the wind and her white cotton dress occasionally reveals patches of her skin. From the little basket she carries, she cheerfully tosses a few petals into the air. She is barefoot and energetically jumps up again and again with peals of laughter, to teach her basket a lesson and to be even closer to the sun. In the shade of the pear tree, she rests from doing nothing, because she still can.

Lola is the pencil-test girl. The girl who passes the pencil test. You take a pencil, place it in the fold (if there is one) under the breast (if there is one) and see if the pencil falls down or not (the ideal, because cruel, pencil girl has a full décolletage and still doesn’t keep the pencil with her). All those who can no longer hear the pencil fall to the ground and can no longer rest from doing nothing should steer clear of Lola - Daisy and whatever they are all called - and take to heart those fragrances whose wearers can smile tiredly at such a test, because they are happy to have other worries as well as that one push-up bra that creates a bust that would make any pencil-test girl pale.

Yesterday, I continued with my L'Art et la Matière test series, which has one goal: to test them all, to comment on them all! The reason for this is quite simple, Cruel Gardenia is a truly wonderful scent and the hope for five more hits is not very unrealistic, especially since I have already sniffed them all. Cruel Gardenia was the night test yesterday. To do justice to this collection, I did not rely on being able to recall everything from memory this evening. No, I took notes on everything that came to mind while Cruel Gardenia and I were lying there, and this comment is based on that.

I have made it a habit, when possible, not to look up the notes beforehand, so I can approach the scents freely and not forcefully conjure up the notes I have read. Peach, rose, vanilla, and musk are the four specific notes I thought I smelled yesterday, and indeed, they are included. However, the overall scent impression consists of much more than these four notes. Cruel Gardenia initially reminds one of green branches and young buds, and a bit of freshly cut grass. This initial freshness is very gentle, not lemony-fresh, but rather dew-drop fresh. I think of delicate peach skin and the feeling of brushing my fingers over it. These green-fresh associations fade after a few minutes, and a lovely floral quality unfolds. Without knowing what gardenia looks like, I imagined delicate petals in white, salmon, and rose (gardenia is white). Rose, musk, and vanilla now shimmer through and form the concluding scent impression with the bright flowers. The association with a milky-light lotion also arises now, reflecting a peculiarity in intensity (not longevity): Cruel Gardenia moves from the top note, through the heart note, to the base note with the handbrake on; I think that’s what they call skin-close.

This scent is a flatterer, fine, subtle, and reserved. A fragrance for which one does not need to be in the mood because it is good in an uncomplicated way. For me, it is an absolute feel-good scent; it even has something cozy (due to the peach skin and the character of lotion). The only thing cruel about this gardenia is the 283CHF (or 170€) one has to pay for it; otherwise, the soft, creamy-light floral bouquet convinces and delights across the board.

I became aware of Cuir Beluga through Duftstick and received a sample of this amazing addictive fragrance from Ghislaine (Thank you very much!!). Cuir Beluga is part of the currently seven-part L'Art et la Matière collection. Various famous perfumers have chosen a fragrance ingredient (Matière) around which they created a perfume (Art). Olivier Polge focused on leather for his creation, in this case, suede. Objectively speaking, this has not gone well, but if you set that fact aside, you are faced with an incredible scent.

So today was Cuir Beluga test day. I decided, after generously applying the fragrance, to take my black patent leather Budapester shoes to the library, paired with skinny jeans. On top, I could have worn a potato sack, it wouldn't have mattered, because these men's shoes make more noise (=attention) than any pair of my unbearable monster heels. I perceive Cuir Beluga similarly to these shoes, and reduced to two words, it is: androgynous elegance! Throughout the day, I kept sniffing my arm, and suddenly: a second association with fashion came to mind, namely the latest (current) winter collection by Jean Paul Gaultier for Hermès. Inspired by the cult series With Umbrella, Charm, and Melon, he created a look defined by masculine shapes (clear, sharp lines) and materials (leather) and feminine cuts (volume). The men's umbrella is adorned with a leopard pattern, over the mohair two-piece is worn a sporty leather vest, and everything is topped off with a bowler hat (http://linkshrink.de/19735/). Everything this fashion radiates, Cuir Beluga also radiates: clarity, elegance, androgyny, and - as Duftstick already put it - pure luxury!

Cuir Beluga begins on my skin with an almond-like, creamy alcohol note and then develops into a soft vanilla that feels so fine, as if it were not sprayed on the skin but rather whispered. The scent is velvety, creamy, soft, subtly erotic, and above all, incredibly elegant. Based on the fragrance notes, this perfume is really hard for me to grasp. It is clear, however, that the vanilla is very prominent, and one searches in vain for the leather. Instead of finding leather, as expected, at the center of this fragrance, it seems to pull the scent strings in the background. I think it is this delicate, subtle leather note that makes the fragrance so special. So, the theme was not missed after all? Until now, I have never warmed to the ingredient leather, but here a very subtle and fine implementation was achieved. So, those who usually shy away from leather can approach Cuir Beluga without fear. Leather fans, on the other hand, will probably find it disappointing, and from their perspective, this interpretation of leather may seem unsuccessful.

This is probably the most elegant, androgynous vanilla I have encountered so far.

I have long hesitated to write this comment: The scent is great, but I was uninspired. A very bad combination that this fragrance really doesn't deserve. The lovely Igraine sent it to me some time ago, and long-time readers of Parfumo know that "Red Vetyver" was more than comforting during the Pipi incident with "Ciel," yes, it even saved me. The screeching woman fell silent in the presence of this guy.

As Imel noted in his comment, I also find the very present grapefruit refreshing and "hearty masculine." My skin says: No pepper! I have to think of words like: pure, fresh, crisp, robust, steadfast, and radiant. This perfume is NOT cuddly, warm, soft, sensual, dark, mysterious, or sweet. (Perhaps for the sake of completeness: I do not yet know Terre d’Hermès).

Personally, I can't imagine wearing it myself, but I would prefer to smell it on my boyfriend. From my perspective, it's a fantastic men's fragrance (young to old)! "Red Vetyver" is not for womanizers, pickup artists, and other teddy bear wannabes! It is what I envision under the word masculine and how I would like the men of this world to smell, namely surrounded by a cool, hearty breeze, a hint of frosty coolness.

I found myself at the Tom Ford counter once again today. I assume the saleswoman has slowly memorized my face, which is why it’s becoming increasingly embarrassing for me to keep testing Black Violet and not buying it. “I want to see how it develops on my skin” doesn’t cut it anymore, and “I want to ask for it as a Christmas gift and just wanted to sniff it again” is probably not very believable on December 28th. I got lucky and she had to leave her little stand in the corner. I weaved through the shelves. Spritz spritz (neck left and right). When I saw her coming back, I had already disappeared into the handbag section. For inexplicable reasons - there’s little Morticia Adams in me - Black Violet and I really go very well together. Last week, I asked the saleswoman: Which one do you like better on me? She smelled Black Violet (dark scent) and Champaca Absolute (light scent) on my forearms. Her decision was quick and clear: Black Violet. Black Violet reminds me of Cigarillos, specifically the “Sweets” (flavored with vanilla) from Dannemann. And what Cigarillos do to women, Black Violet does to them too. When lighting/applying it, one’s posture automatically improves, the previously hunched back suddenly becomes very noticeable. One suddenly feels much more self-confident and with the wrong discussion partner, perhaps even a bit fierce. Black Violet is dark, full, round, and velvety, but it also has something strict and straightforward about it. On my skin, it feels very feminine. There are few citrus notes and no fruits at all, but plenty of violets and - it seems - delicate woods. I find Black Violet more pleasant and not as loud as Tobacco Vanille or Noir de Noir. These two are too loud for my taste; on me, they feel intrusive and inappropriate. Black Violet is more muted, softer, the perfect dose of darkness and mystique for me as a light type. That’s why the memory of the Sweets emerged only here - for me, an absolute moment of enjoyment - and not while testing Tobacco Vanille. This violet is truly black and it smokes Cigarillos.