Carnolie

Last week at Sephora on the Champs-Élysées, I received a spray sample. As the name suggests, it is a very sweet fragrance - but well done, not sticky or overwhelming. Rather deliciously fruity and very summery. It makes you crave sunny walks, ice cream sundaes, and cocktails on the beach.

...just by the look of the bottle. A floral-fresh scent with this industrial matte gray cap? Then this ornate script font. Is it supposed to remind one of an entry in a poetry album? And the name itself. "Pleasures". Estée doesn't really excel at creative names. I already found "Knowing" borderline, but I can get excited about this perfume, just not so much about Pleasures. Hey, I see a pattern here, there isn't a single Estée Lauder fragrance with a remotely original name. Sensuous, Adventurous, Beautiful. Intuition, Pleasures, Private Collection. Brasil Dream. Beyond Paradise. - either very general and vague or ridiculously specific: White Linen!!! Ha, ha, ha. White laundry. In any case, a certain homely fantasy is reflected in the names.
But well, everyone can form their own opinion. Back to Pleasures.

The top note is still the most promising part. Crisp, bold, green freshness. And floral from the very start without compromise. My problem is that the zesty first impression quickly fades, and what remains is a really nasty, disgusting note that unsuccessfully tries to hide behind the floral aspect (what does Karo-Karounde smell like?). But I immediately uncovered it. This note reminds me of decaying flowers, metal, raw meat, and damp laundry.

The latter refers to that unpleasant smell that laundry often has after washing when you don't use a scented fabric softener, which I avoid by only washing with fabric softener. Or cold dishes. They also have that nasty, sneakily biting sensation in the nose. That's why plates in upscale restaurants are warmed up, so that this cold-metallic exhalation disappears.

As I said, I had already suspected that something was off with Pleasures. The only thing that could have saved this scent would have been a thick, rich tuberose. But unfortunately, that's completely missing.

I like "Boudoir" and I also find "Anglomania" not bad. Therefore, I was of course curious about Libertine, because it's discontinued, rare, and a Chypre from 2000. So I managed to snag (thank God only) a mini on eBay.

The first thing I noticed when testing: this bitter, theatrical makeup-like note, which I also noticed in Guerlain's Parure and which makes every fragrance unbearable in my opinion. Note the similar scent structure as well. Parure has fruity notes and bergamot in the top, Libertine also has fruits and bergamot in the heart. And yes, once you know that pineapple is in there, you can smell it. Both fragrances also share lily of the valley and rose, and in the base, amber, oakmoss, and patchouli.

So, one shouldn't be surprised that they smell similar and that both fragrances are also wearable for the male gender. I don't find Libertine particularly fresh, but it's definitely more wearable than Parure. While Parure just smelled strange and unbearable to me even after multiple tests, Libertine does take on milder tones. I can hardly notice any development; the whole thing is quite linear.

For me, this is all nothing, so unfortunately, I can only give it 30% and I don't have a photo either.

Gardenia is the only perfume by Elizabeth Taylor that I have tested so far. I must say that I find Joan Collins much more fascinating and inspiring, and if Joan had gotten the role of Cleopatra, I would even watch the film. Unfortunately, Joan has only created one fragrance, namely the previously unknown "Spectacular" from 1989.

I found Gardenia ridiculously sweet upon first testing, like that drink syrup that is only enjoyable when diluted with water. I have never sniffed a real gardenia, but I would be very surprised if it emitted such an unnatural, alarming, unhealthy, gag-inducing sweet scent. I actually like white power flowers like tuberose. Maybe it’s the lily of the valley that makes the scent so overwhelmingly sweet.

I have now tested Gardenia for the third time, and unfortunately, my first impression has been confirmed each time. This perfume pulls your dental fillings out. A sort of olfactory filling remover, so to speak. Moreover, it smells cheap. Like something you would have bought in a Russian drugstore in the 70s. I can't detect any great scent development. Somehow it awakens in me the urge to trim gardenia bushes with a large hedge trimmer.

EDIT: to support my negative assessment of this fragrance, I would like to quote Luca Turin:

"Most gardenias fail to replicate the flower. Some don't even try. This is one."

It is not uncommon to find a fragrance unappealing upon first testing, only to later develop a fondness for it. Less frequently, one finds a scent initially delightful, only to ultimately reject it outright. Kelly Calèche falls into the latter category for me.
At first, I found this fresh-herbaceous debut interesting and distinctive, and thus good. Now it makes me feel nauseous. This combination of rose and leather (in my opinion, more like artificial leather) is irritating and creates a sense of coldness. There are many perfumes that I don’t particularly like, but Kelly Calèche is one of the few that I find downright unsympathetic. A woman to whom this perfume suits would necessarily have to be unsympathetic to me. - That’s my association while testing; I don’t know any woman who wears Kelly Calèche, perhaps in real life I wouldn’t even recognize this scent on another person, so no offense to all the lovers of this fragrance. -
In any case, it feels so foreign and forced on my skin that it spoils my mood. Maybe it’s because I have dark hair, and this perfume, in my opinion, suits lighter, preferably freckled types best.

But that is my personal subjective aversion; I acknowledge that it is an interesting fragrance with recognizability and good longevity. But not for me. Not at all for me.