DieLora

Recently, I received a sample of Poudre de Liberté in a swap package and set it aside for a while. At that time, it was still very warm outside, and I wasn't in the mood for supposedly rich powdery scents. Since the day before yesterday, it has cooled down, and yesterday was cool and rainy, ideal conditions for a cozy powdery delight. Or so I thought. However, the name Poudre de Liberté is in this case not representative and more than misleading.

Right after application, PdL starts with a strong cinnamon spice, warm and sweet. Coriander seeds (?) round off the spiciness, while bergamot and mandarin, as indicated, do not show up on me.

As soon as the spice medley calms down, dried fruits mix into the scene. I think of Arabie, even though the two have hardly anything in common otherwise. Additionally, I distinctly perceive plums from the very beginning. Plum puree, more precisely, which we call Powidl, juicy and cinnamon-spiced. The whole thing blends into a fine, creamy-spicy fragrance mélange and reminds me at this stage a bit of a softer version of Organza Indecence, which I love in winter for its cinnamon-plum note.
Rose and leather accord do not come through on me, just like the indicated citrus notes in the top note, nor does any form of powdery notes. After about three hours, everything ends in a creamy sandalwood-musk base that caresses me for another good three hours.

All in all, a misleading name for a true winter spice treat. Sweet-spicy-creamy, but not a gourmand. My desire reflex is definitely activated.

Negative headlines are known to be the best headlines. This is also the case here. Thanks to some partly grandiose and stylishly formulated comments, I became aware of this fragrance. Due to this perfect negative advertising, my expectations were high. What must this olfactory beast be, what an overwhelming experience? Can I even smell it or will it burn my nose hairs away in an instant? Is "it" even allowed on the skin or do I risk severe burns?

I had to get a sample! I couldn't miss this, I was too curious and sensationalist. Sprayed on in anticipation of a vanilla smack, waited... nothing. Huh, where is it? Sprayed again... a slight whiff of plastic vanilla, then nothing. Did I get the wrong sample or did my olfactory cells die at the moment of first contact? Well, lately it often happens that I can hardly perceive a new fragrance on the first test, however, my friend did not run out of the living room gasping for air, did not complain, nor did he turn green after three sprays of 24 Gold on my forearm. Either my skin immediately devours the scent, absorbing all the predicted terrible things from my writers in that instant, or our noses were numbed by the overdose. There was nothing more than a slightly artificial vanilla on a wooden base.

On the second test the following day, 24 Gold reached me, still miles away from being impactful. An unspectacular sweet wood-spice-vanilla, Oud not perceivable on me. Nothing special and similar to scents I've smelled countless times before, some better, some less so. A bit of Kalemat, a bit of Raghba. As someone here has already written, Bouquet Ideal also comes to my mind, which, however, becomes significantly sweeter on me and annoyed me after a short time.

In summary, 24 Gold is average. Not breathtakingly strong, but also not weak. Not particularly loud, not particularly quiet/unobtrusive. Not particularly sticky, but also not unsweet (yet still too cloyingly sweet for me). I didn't fall into a coma, my friend didn't leave me or throw me out of the apartment, my dog didn't leave the room howling, and my skin had no burns. That's just how it is with negative advertising - the expectations for the negatively advertised object are infinitely high, the craving for sensation awakens, and 24 Gold could not satisfy that.

Conclusion: You can wear it. But you don't have to.

Gourmand was yesterday, today Ms. Vanilla is really going for it. Screw it, she says, I'm tired of always being adjusted, well-behaved, and sweet. Gone are the days of lovely, rosy, and frilly, Christmas baking and vanilla pudding.

Today I'm popping a barrel and letting the smoked guaiac dolls dance. She reaches into the spice cabinet, throws around cloves, opens a whole barrel of rum, and hangs one around her neck. Hair done up, adorned with a flower, she squeezes herself into her black leather outfit, laces up her boots, and drips a bit of bitter orange oil behind her ears. Around her neck, a braided chain made of vetiver grass. After another sip from the rum bottle, she grabs her friend Amber and dances with her along the sandalwood path through the night.

An amazing, adult, unsweetened, and very smoky vanilla. A vanilla vamp. If I had to choose just one vanilla fragrance, it would definitely be this one.

Pawel encountered me a few years ago, his appearance and his name immediately piqued my curiosity. I have to get to know him.

As I open the door, Pawel, the Russian dream man, a real man through and through, greets me with a full-blown vodka breath. I feel almost dizzy, my knees go weak. Is it from the alcohol or from this man with his broad shoulders, chiseled chin, and piercing gaze? It doesn't matter. He has me now, completely.

I let myself fall onto his leather couch, a glass of champagne in hand, excitement bubbling inside me. What are you going to do with me, comrade? He offers me spiced cookies, cinnamon stars, I still smell coriander and a hint of cumin. Or is that his masculine scent? Doesn't matter, I want more of it.

Now he sits down next to me and I let my head sink onto his hairy chest, inhaling his soft vanilla amber scent, which blends with the aroma of the spices and the incense clinging to his clothes (a believer, my Pawel?) into a vanilla amber-spice-leather-incense mélange. What a guy! Love-drunk, I take another hearty swig of vodka, straight from the bottle.

Unfortunately, we don't get any further, as I, due to the ample spirits consumed, have fallen asleep beside him. However, his scent lingers on me long after I’m home.

The sillage is expansive, the longevity enormous. This Russian is not only a real knockout but also an extremely loyal companion.

As soon as any perfume contains amber, I have to test it. There’s hardly an amber scent that I don’t like in some way. Whether it’s gnarly, round, dark, or cozy. I love amber in every form.

In Amber Ylang, the amber comes across as cuddly. And extraordinarily cuddly at that. Amber and ylang cuddle up on a bed of amber and vanilla. I can hardly distinguish individual notes; everything blends together perfectly. I feel enveloped, almost hugged, safe and secure. It wears like a wonderfully soft cashmere sweater, fluffy, snug, and gentle. Nothing disturbs, nothing scratches, and everything harmonizes.

My current favorite sofa-cuddle-enveloping scent. Even if it’s almost a bit too elegant for that. I just throw on my cotton leggings and thick knitted socks with the cashmere sweater, and then it’s all good :-)

The sillage is very close to the body, and the longevity is good.