Dibi
Reviews
Dibi
The Stepford Wives of Bracken
Forget the green, floral and fresh scents of classic perfumery : Bracken is definitely one of the experimenal fragrances in the Amouage line-up, and in perfumery in general. Do not go to the Bracken forest for tart berries, or lush lilies, or delicate chamomile. Bracken is a photorealistic take on fern, done in large and coarse strokes probably to reproduce the plant itself in giant, graphic proportions, set against a sweet yet nondescript background that is used to represent berries and flowers. The opening stage has some vibrantly green synthetic notes to give off an impression of a bright carpet of ripe grass.
I do not distinguish a single floral note in Bracken, nor do I smell vetiver or leather listed in the pyramid. What I do get is an abudance of powder, heaps and heaps of powder which never evolves or warms up. It is not the soft, intimate powderiness of your classic Carons, Chanels or Guerlains, it is the post-industiral powder of the 'perfect world' where the grass and the flowers and the roads and the buildings are all uniform, one colour, one size, one category, all alike just like the 'perfect influencers', content-creators and media gurus of the modern-day that strangely seem all alike as do the fashions and ideas they keep pushing: going to places everyone else is going, wearing things everyone else is wearing and posting photos everyone else is posting.
There are people that love their perfume to smell clean, crisp and fresh, like a starched white shirt that has just been picked up from the cleaners. There are people that just love the smell of laundry above all else. I guess that was the brief for Dorothee Piot and Karine Vinchon Spencer with Bracken : 'make an Amouage freshie'. Is this scent part of the Amouage Dna? No. Is it a complex, deep, rich perfume? Again no. Is it worth the Amouage price tag? I don't think so. It is original in its intense photorealistic verdancy and its unceasing 'Tide Original' washing powder vibe, but it lacks personality and a human touch.
I think Bracken would be the perfect scent for Nicole Kridman and other pretty ladies in the Stepford Wives movie, where everyone is perfect with perfect looks, kids and houses but a lifeless robot on the inside, and probably for many picture-perfect influencers of today.
I do not distinguish a single floral note in Bracken, nor do I smell vetiver or leather listed in the pyramid. What I do get is an abudance of powder, heaps and heaps of powder which never evolves or warms up. It is not the soft, intimate powderiness of your classic Carons, Chanels or Guerlains, it is the post-industiral powder of the 'perfect world' where the grass and the flowers and the roads and the buildings are all uniform, one colour, one size, one category, all alike just like the 'perfect influencers', content-creators and media gurus of the modern-day that strangely seem all alike as do the fashions and ideas they keep pushing: going to places everyone else is going, wearing things everyone else is wearing and posting photos everyone else is posting.
There are people that love their perfume to smell clean, crisp and fresh, like a starched white shirt that has just been picked up from the cleaners. There are people that just love the smell of laundry above all else. I guess that was the brief for Dorothee Piot and Karine Vinchon Spencer with Bracken : 'make an Amouage freshie'. Is this scent part of the Amouage Dna? No. Is it a complex, deep, rich perfume? Again no. Is it worth the Amouage price tag? I don't think so. It is original in its intense photorealistic verdancy and its unceasing 'Tide Original' washing powder vibe, but it lacks personality and a human touch.
I think Bracken would be the perfect scent for Nicole Kridman and other pretty ladies in the Stepford Wives movie, where everyone is perfect with perfect looks, kids and houses but a lifeless robot on the inside, and probably for many picture-perfect influencers of today.
2 Comments
Ansel Adams, Refugio beach, CA
This scent doesn’t strike me as particularly aquatic or ‘turquoise’, there is a certain salty smoky feel to it that keeps it from turning into a straightforward aquatic, and maintains its ‘chill’ throughout the wearing.
Bleu Turquoise sends out a cool vibe similar to the surface of rocks, slightly damp from the sea and seaweed, but the sea stays in the background as if it were part of a low-tide landscape.
Cool, damp rocks and a Nag-champa (in this case, sandalwood and jasmine) kind of incensy smokiness set this scent apart, with an occasional whiff of spices. In warmer weather the cypriol notes transmit a cool, smooth, almost marble-like impression of the scent, and make it oddly ‘mineral’. The creamy and soft Armani Privè vanilla base is present throughout.
This is probably not the easiest AP fragrance in the line-up and not the safest blind-buy. It is fascinating and unusual, like an olfactory take on tonal, fine-grained black and white photography by Ansel Adams, tools, metallic photo gear and wet Kodak film included, and a lonely transistor playing Billie Holiday’s ‘Solitude’ in the background, lying by the side of an extinguished bonfire
Bleu Turquoise sends out a cool vibe similar to the surface of rocks, slightly damp from the sea and seaweed, but the sea stays in the background as if it were part of a low-tide landscape.
Cool, damp rocks and a Nag-champa (in this case, sandalwood and jasmine) kind of incensy smokiness set this scent apart, with an occasional whiff of spices. In warmer weather the cypriol notes transmit a cool, smooth, almost marble-like impression of the scent, and make it oddly ‘mineral’. The creamy and soft Armani Privè vanilla base is present throughout.
This is probably not the easiest AP fragrance in the line-up and not the safest blind-buy. It is fascinating and unusual, like an olfactory take on tonal, fine-grained black and white photography by Ansel Adams, tools, metallic photo gear and wet Kodak film included, and a lonely transistor playing Billie Holiday’s ‘Solitude’ in the background, lying by the side of an extinguished bonfire
In the Golden Afternoon
Fortunately, I am not familiar with Viva La Juicy people tend to compare this with, so I can enjoy the scent free of prejudice.
This is a fruity-floral in the best way possible, bright, upbeat and smoothly executed. The initial stage may give off a brief hairspray note but in a few minutes everything blends into a lovely effortless creaminess.
Honeysuckle and Jasmin do a lovely dance with Gardenia with occasional whiffs of Jasmine. It reminds me of the pretty, colourful and somewhat frivolous flowers from ‘Alice in Wonderland’ singing their Golden Afternoon song:
You can learn a lot of things from the flowers
For especially in the month of June
There's a wealth of happiness and romance
All in the golden afternoon
The base is ambery, with a syrupy touch if caramel. There is nothing complicated about this scent, no sharpness, no edgy notes and not much interplay in the development. It won’t make you ponder or challenge you. It is just a feel-good perfume and it is great at doing just that. Enjoy!
This is a fruity-floral in the best way possible, bright, upbeat and smoothly executed. The initial stage may give off a brief hairspray note but in a few minutes everything blends into a lovely effortless creaminess.
Honeysuckle and Jasmin do a lovely dance with Gardenia with occasional whiffs of Jasmine. It reminds me of the pretty, colourful and somewhat frivolous flowers from ‘Alice in Wonderland’ singing their Golden Afternoon song:
You can learn a lot of things from the flowers
For especially in the month of June
There's a wealth of happiness and romance
All in the golden afternoon
The base is ambery, with a syrupy touch if caramel. There is nothing complicated about this scent, no sharpness, no edgy notes and not much interplay in the development. It won’t make you ponder or challenge you. It is just a feel-good perfume and it is great at doing just that. Enjoy!
Quite a Party
It's Christmas time, it's party time. Everyone is home getting the table ready and actually getting along. Everyone seems in a good mood for a change.
Some light-hearted Christmas music is playing but no big deal, you're making cake and your eccentric aunt just helped you peel some oranges and then squezed some in the air, all over the kitchen table, saying it will put you in a festive mood. And it does.
Your uncle was supposed to open the Gran Marnier you need for the cake but spilled some on the floor and on that very kitchen table while trying to 'just check it was still good'. The said uncle then proceeded by drinking the Marnier out of the bottle to prove all is legit over the holidays. It is.
Your single and opinionated cousin that thinks you own too much perfume was going to grate chocolate for the cake but ended up getting it on her dress, her fingers, you, your hair and your dog.
Your kids wanted to clean the dog but ended up chasing it and knocking over a jar of vanilla pods that you treasure so dearly.
You are making sponge cake and you do not even like sponge cake. It will probably end up undercooked but it's too late. Once you put it in the fridge to cool you go back to your room to get ready and reminisce of your aunt Lira, the artist, the one that always gifts you sachets of lavender and liquorice candy in pretty tins, the one that left you the impossible cake recipe before moving to Paris. She smiles at you from a photograph in her big hat and elegant velvet party dress.
You finally sit down under the tree and suddenly you are calm and happy. The moist cake, the vanilla, the chocolate, the oranges, the Gran Marnier, the liquorice and the lavender were meant to do just that.
Lira, the sweet clutter of holiday season followed by calm and bliss. It just works.
Some light-hearted Christmas music is playing but no big deal, you're making cake and your eccentric aunt just helped you peel some oranges and then squezed some in the air, all over the kitchen table, saying it will put you in a festive mood. And it does.
Your uncle was supposed to open the Gran Marnier you need for the cake but spilled some on the floor and on that very kitchen table while trying to 'just check it was still good'. The said uncle then proceeded by drinking the Marnier out of the bottle to prove all is legit over the holidays. It is.
Your single and opinionated cousin that thinks you own too much perfume was going to grate chocolate for the cake but ended up getting it on her dress, her fingers, you, your hair and your dog.
Your kids wanted to clean the dog but ended up chasing it and knocking over a jar of vanilla pods that you treasure so dearly.
You are making sponge cake and you do not even like sponge cake. It will probably end up undercooked but it's too late. Once you put it in the fridge to cool you go back to your room to get ready and reminisce of your aunt Lira, the artist, the one that always gifts you sachets of lavender and liquorice candy in pretty tins, the one that left you the impossible cake recipe before moving to Paris. She smiles at you from a photograph in her big hat and elegant velvet party dress.
You finally sit down under the tree and suddenly you are calm and happy. The moist cake, the vanilla, the chocolate, the oranges, the Gran Marnier, the liquorice and the lavender were meant to do just that.
Lira, the sweet clutter of holiday season followed by calm and bliss. It just works.
