DuftJunkie

She came to me one morning. A lonely Sunday in the middle of winter. Her long hair blew in the icy wind. I don’t know how she found me; after all, I was a gray mouse in the night. She asked me my name and about my goals. She appeared to me like a whole aldehyde accord. Strange, mystical, and yet very familiar. This enhanced her already mysterious presence in her black leather cloak. Made of very fine yet so tough leather, as if the good piece had been around for decades.

Thus began the nice, casual conversation that would once influence my "olfactory" worldview. I told her about my vision of fighting against those who divide scents and perfumes into genders. These people had a compulsion to ban great perfumes for the 'other' gender. Without any thoughts of love or God, who created all scents for 'all' people. And I asked her to stand by me as a fighter (including herself) to destroy these enemies. I was that bitter.

She smiled gently. In that moment, I realized that beneath her black leather cloak, there was much more slumbering. Flowers upon flowers, both erotically sexy and maternally tender. Maternally wise was her reaction:
"Fight? Ban? That sounds like war. War reduces humanity to an animal. Although something animalistic resides in all of us, we shouldn’t overdo it. Such a war is easy to start, but hardly winnable."
A hint of the 'animalistic' peeked out from under her cloak, reinforced by cumin-like spices.

With these wise words, she reminded me that a woman is the mother of 'all' people. Conflicts should always be eased, not escalated. I became fearful. I would be alone with my personal conflict. And I pleaded with her:
"Please, extend your hand to me or allow me to stay with you."
"Have faith and be confident. What troubles you are just numbers. An old story of minority and majority. Numbers have no power. Don’t draw false conclusions. But should you ever need me, I will be nearby."

No sooner had she said this than she turned away. I was speechless and stood there, as if ordered but not picked up. I watched her leather cloak, which I had fallen in love with due to its 'perfect cut', drift away in a slightly spicy-balsamic cloud. I don't necessarily have it easier now. Quite a few 'women's fragrances' have made it to my shortlist. But now I know: many women feel the same way about 'men's fragrances'. I AM NOT ALONE. I always gather new courage when I think back to that windy day.

Years later, this "Lady in Black" gifted me the perfume that fulfilled my longings. The black leather cloak was very authentically incorporated in it (with all the trimmings). Like the cloak with the perfect cut, the perfume emphasizes both masculine and feminine traits, depending on the wearer. Sometimes bandits leave something valuable behind. And when this lady visits you one day, make use of her wisdom to gather courage, as you wish (no matter the matter :-).

A certain Ken had a similar experience with this lady in black. He spoke of his encounter with her in 1970 and encouraged many people towards pacifism. Therefore, I would like to direct the following words to him:
"Dear Ken, although you were just the keyboardist of the band, you had to sing the song of the lady in black yourself. Your lead singer (D.B.) refused because he found this story too banal. But not me. And this woman has also encountered me. She has given me courage too. And you said in the end, 'Say hello for me.' Well Ken, whenever I want to use the perfume she gifted me, I say, 'Best regards from Ken' :-)."

Some may find this story about that mysterious woman familiar. Please recall the music of the 70s.

But amidst all this: Who was actually this Ken?

I have long wondered how I should understand or perceive this fragrance.

Paradox 1:
First of all: 'Rose Divine' actually means 'Divine Rose'. It's actually a great name for a perfume that puts the rose in the foreground. But in this case, unfortunately, it's unfortunate. One should know that there are many roses, but the Centifolia (Cabbage Rose) is not one of the 'God-created' roses, thus not exactly divine. The Centifolia, which prominently flares up in Rose Divine, belongs to the 'man-made' roses. It originated partly by chance and a whim of nature. However, it is mainly humans who have contributed to its targeted breeding. Partly, the Centifolia (bot. Rosa x Centifolia) is mistakenly marketed as May Rose or even Peony. Besides the fresh-floral and spring-like scent impression, they have nothing in common. The Peony is not even a rose but belongs to the peonies.

Paradox 2:
With the keyword fresh-floral, I have also arrived at the scent. According to previous comments, Rose Divine is considered anything but fresh or spring-like. I make no exception. It is rather described as warm, balsamic, and sweet. Due to the high proportion of Centifolia Absolute (the percentage of 1% surely refers to the total content including alcohol etc.), the composition may seem narcotic to some. The only remedy for that is to save strictly: two sprays on the neck or just a little spritz on the décolleté for sensitive souls. A rose bomb like Black Aoud is certainly not Rose Divine. The scent is interesting to me but also contradictory. I do like contradictions, but there should be a discernible meaning, which I miss here again. More on that shortly.

Paradox 3:
Now it gets technical :-). The suspicion that Céline Ellena wanted to recreate the scent of the divine rose, Rosa x Damascena, using Centifolia is unavoidable. However, in terms of scent, Centifolia and Rosa Damascena differ in certain ways. The Damascena contains more than 400! different molecules in its essence, some of which have not even been isolated. The Centifolia has far fewer substances. If we consider the molecules as physical structures, the Centifolia lacks certain molecules to harmoniously absorb warm-balsamic tones like benzoin or sandalwood. Additionally, sandalwood has the urinous undertone (did someone complain about headaches? ;-))? They certainly did not skimp on benzoin and sandalwood here, as can be easily detected. With the much fuller Bulgarian or Turkish rose, however, this is quite possible and popular.

Paradox 4:
While I could easily detect benzoin and sandalwood, I have trouble with blueberry and currant. Perhaps they are too weakly dosed? Whatever the case: a bit more of the fruit cocktail, even if of an exotic kind, would have pleased me more. As it stands, the fruits, perhaps because they shine through their absence, reinforce the overall contradictory character of this fragrance.

Conclusion:
Overall, a very good perfume to which I would gladly give 100%. However, the name raises a certain expectation in me. This is not satisfied. Instead, I have an image of a divine, delicate singer and the tailcoat of an equally divine, more than just stately singer in mind. It's as if one were trying to drag the great Maria Callas onto the stage in a tailcoat of Luciano Pavarotti.

The fragrance gets 90 percent from me also because this idea is so abstract and yet somehow beautiful :-D.

Sometimes in my profession, I happen to drive past the Melaten Cemetery in Cologne. Yesterday was one of those days again. This time, however, I was overcome by a strange feeling. I thought about the fact that a very specific person is buried there. I wanted to go in and lay carnations on his grave. Where I come from, that’s how it’s done. As a sign of compassion, mourning, and honor. We are talking about a certain Johann Maria Farina. He died on November 25, 1766, in Cologne and was buried at the Melaten Cemetery.
But I don’t want to hold a eulogy. Others can do that much better. I would like to write a comment on his greatest work, the "Original Eau de Cologne" by Farina. Others can surely do that better too, but I feel like doing it. I begin with a memory from my childhood; with an excerpt from a diary:

"From the Diary of a Two-Year-Old"

Thursday,

08:10 AM - Sprayed Cologne on the carpet. Smells nice. Mom is angry. Cologne is forbidden.

08:45 AM - Threw lighter into coffee. Got hit.

09:00 AM - Was in the kitchen. Got kicked out. Kitchen is forbidden.

09:15 AM - Was in Dad's study. Got kicked out. Study is also forbidden.

09:30 AM - Took the key from the cupboard. Played with it. Mom didn’t know where it was. Neither did I. Mom scolded.

10:00 AM - Found red pencil. Drew on wallpaper. It’s forbidden.

10:20 AM - Pulled knitting needle out of knitting and bent it. Stuck second knitting needle in the sofa. Knitting needles are forbidden.

11:00 AM - Was supposed to drink milk. Wanted water instead. Yelled in anger. Got hit.

11:10 AM - Wet my pants. Got hit. Wetting is forbidden.

11:30 AM - Broke a cigarette. Tobacco inside. Doesn’t taste good.

11:45 AM - Chased a centipede up to the wall. Found a wall pill bug there. Very interesting, but forbidden.

12:15 PM - Ate dirt. Odd taste, but forbidden.

12:30 PM - Spit out salad. Inedible. Spitting out is still forbidden.

01:15 PM - Quiet time in bed. Didn’t sleep. Got up and sat on the bedspread. Was cold. Being cold is forbidden.

02:00 PM - Thought about things. Realized that everything is forbidden. What is one even on this earth for?

Helmut Holthaus - From the book “Texte für die Primarstufe TP 3" (Schroedel 42 023) (C) 1973

Who still remembers the old TP books that students fondly called “TolPatsch” and were constant companions in elementary school in the 70s and 80s? This scenario with little Tilli (that was the boy's name) amused me greatly back then in elementary school, but it also made me wonder what kind of "Kölnisch Wasser" could be so special that mom and son had such an unpleasant day from spilling it. It must have been an extraordinary fragrance water. Genuine Kölnisch Wasser from 4711 is already ruled out. 4711 was also easy to find in the 70s, and it was cheap too. Since the late 90s, I have known that there was a Kölnisch Wasser that was not only harder to find but also "nicer" than 4711. It was an old bottle of "Farina Gegenüber," which I was able to purchase at a flea market in Cologne. Shortly thereafter, I spoke to a somewhat older friend (a true native of Cologne) and asked if she still knew the old "Kölnisch Wasser" from Farina Gegenüber. She beamed and said that her mother and all the ladies from the coffee circle preferred Farina over 4711. I asked her what the difference in scent was. “The clove note” was her short and concise answer.

And with this “clove note,” I come to the core of my comment and the reason why such a simple “little water” deserves a few more words than an ordinary fragrance review.
Whether it is indeed clove is questionable. So far, I have only been able to identify three sources that support this “spicy thesis.” First, there is Apicius, who in his commentary on "Original Eau de Cologne" claims to smell “cardamom” or something similar. The second source is my humble nose: I have actually thought for years that it was a mixture of cloves and coriander. But I will yield to the third source, which would be the only one considered both professional and neutral. The H&R Fragrance Atlas from 1997 lists the following as ingredients for "Kölnisch Wasser" by Farina Gegenüber (1714):

Top Note: BERGAMOT, CITRUS, ORANGE, Petitgrain, Neroli
Middle Note: Rosemary, Rose, Carnation
Base Note: Musk

It should be noted that Carnation is the English term for garden clove. Furthermore, it should be noted that behind the names "Original Eau de Cologne" (1709) and "Kölnisch Wasser" (1714), the same scent is likely to be found. Just five years later, it was reintroduced under a German name to avoid confusion. Unfortunately, it quickly found many imitators again.

But back to our fragrance and the associated, ominous “clove note.” With this clove tone, Farina opened up entirely new paths for perfume culture. Until then, the so-called “waters” had only been refreshing waters meant to invigorate temporarily, but now there was a whole base that could be developed in all possible directions. Previously, there were only rosemary or lavender waters, produced as Aqua Mirabilis (miracle water) by various monasteries, or pure citrus waters based on bergamot and neroli. Farina blended these components into a herbal fragrance that would later form the basis for fougère and chypre notes. One only needed to add oak moss as a fixative note. But to perfect the versatility, Farina also added a clove accord to this composition, which likely consisted of clove and garden clove. And to make the confusion complete, a tiny splash of rose-jasmine accord was added to the garden clove. This may sound very simple from today’s perspective; however, at Farina's time, it was pure “chaos.” In the end, a “little water” emerged that seemed to be citrusy, herbal, spicy, and floral all at once. Over time, this led to the creation of fougères, chypres, floral, and also spicy-oriental notes. It was already a revolution in the perfume sector. The next revolutions of a comparable or continuing nature followed many years later:

"Vetiver" by Floris (1873), Wood Chypre;
"Fougère Royale" by Houbigant (1882), Fougère;
"L'Origan" by Coty (1906), Floral-Sweet;
"Quelques Fleurs" / "Quelques Fleurs L'Original" by Houbigant (1912), Floral;
"Chypre" by Coty (1917), Chypre;
"Knize Ten" by Knize (1924), Leather-Chypre;
"Shalimar" by Guerlain (1925), Amber-Oriental;

as well as many other “milestones” in perfume history that marked the beginning of further subfamilies. Only "N°5" by Chanel was one of the few independent innovations. N°5 made aldehydes fashionable in 1921.

What remains is a simple scent of unequaled sophistication that still refreshes or even captivates millions of people worldwide today. Such a work of art deserves the highest rating from me. Not because I am fond of citrus, but because of its significance as a pioneer of all my treasures. Does anyone still want to laugh at me for wanting to pay a visit to the creator of "EdC" at his grave and lay carnations on it?

Pazuzu:
» ... is a demon from Babylonian and Assyrian mythology. ... He was considered the personification of the cold wind and brought fever and cold. He ... is depicted with a lion-like head, the feet of an eagle, ... , a scorpion tail, and four wings. In the only full-body representation, one hand points upwards, the other downwards, which in hermetic (esoteric teachings of Hermes) speculations of modern times has been interpreted as a reference to the principle: “As above, so below.” Normally, however, only his lion-like head is depicted.
He is described as an opponent of Lamaštu (a female demon), who threatens mother and child in childbirth, and was therefore represented on protective amulets worn ... «

Source: Wikipedia

The last paragraph shows that Pazuzu is not the demon that possesses little girls, as depicted in the Exorcist films; rather, he protects and watches over them.

The other Pazuzu:
Some will surely know. There is a perfume called Pazuzu. And it was he who, not too long ago, at a Parfumo meeting, handed me a sample of Mazzolari's "Lui." My first reaction was: "Strange." Other attendees had scent impressions ranging from "Animalistic" to "Leather" to "Patchouli." Pazuzu said I should keep the sample, test the scent extensively, and then share my opinion with him (he would appreciate a comment :-) ). This posed a riddle for me to ponder for some time. For shortly after, I learned that there were already over a dozen comments on "Lui," which did not quite answer Pazuzu's questions. For the question was not: "What is the scent like?" but rather: "Why does it have such a polarizing effect on people?", "Why is the scent what it is?" and above all: "What is the message of the scent? Is there even one?"

The message:
As for the message of the scent, I can say that it reminds me of the principle "As above, so below." Something that belongs to the base of the scent should rise to the top note. Likewise, characteristics that usually belong to the top note of a perfume should appear in the base of the scent. The heart of the composition should, on one hand, remind one of this "inverted" circumstance; on the other hand, it should also untangle the entire scent experience and transition into an extremely harmonious and almost sweetly soft base.

The riddle:
"Why is Lui the way it is?" is for me the central theme, a riddle. For I tend to question how such effects are achieved. How is it possible for animalistic accents to push so prominently forward while sweet, almost fresh impressions are pushed into the background? Not to forget that the sillage remains at a high level at all times.
To clarify this, one must dissect the scent from a scientific perspective. This includes the precise architecture of the scent.
The scent is built around the central accords of leather, patchouli, and wood. Patchouli is not mentioned in the pyramid, but anyone who takes even a brief sniff of Lui cannot deny its presence. All three of these accords have one thing in common: they exhibit facets that could be categorized somewhere between harsh and coarse. Leather can have piercing elements, patchouli has something musty about it, and cedarwood can sometimes convey sweaty impressions. Sandalwood, on the other hand, as incredible as it may sound to some, has significant urine notes.
Now it gets really technical. When these less pleasant-sounding nuances are enhanced synthetically or with natural essences, one can create an animalistic image. Freshly tarred leather, where you can still hear the piercingly smelling tanning liquid dripping down. Musty notes of patchouli complemented with spikenard or nagarmotha create the image of a horse stable. Sandalwood and cedarwood, slightly modified with valerian and similar substances, can evoke thoughts of a wild animal that has somehow escaped its cage and now stands before you in its naked, animalistic splendor.
Fortunately, this is only one side of Lui. For those who have patience and can tame this wild beast will later experience the other side of Lui: how the wild animal (be it lion, puma, or tiger) transforms into a tame dog. And from then on, Lui becomes for many the most loyal and faithful companion, the best friend of all. This transformation happens very slowly, so that it is hard to notice how a divisive and polarizing scent becomes a truly cuddly, soft companion that wraps around you like a cashmere blanket.
The secret of this soft base could be that alongside sweet and unmistakable amber, the enhanced and long-lasting notes of jasmine, iris, clove, and/or daffodil spread out, which I can hardly distinguish individually (except for jasmine). However, the basic tendency of the almost earthy floral notes is unmistakably present for me. Behind this earthiness, there could be a hint of vetiver, which has so far remained elusive to me as a single note. As for the mentioned spicy notes: throughout the entire duration, one occasionally perceives spicy aspects that remind one of a thin veil.

The polarization:
Polarization generally refers to the splitting of a whole into two camps (poles). In the scientific field, it can be evaluated positively or negatively (depending on the outcome). In politics, it is exclusively viewed negatively, as it harms a social structure and creates barriers instead of promoting the cohesion that every society relies on.
In art (which includes perfume), polarization has something inherently positive: by exploring (various) opposing boundaries, it continually reveals new paths and thus contributes to diversity. Sometimes, such "experiments" produce pioneers of entire styles. Just think of "Chypre" or "Mitsouko." Chypre fragrances today form one of the largest fragrance families overall. Whether the result ultimately pleases one is another matter. It would also be a shame if everyone liked it; not every nose appreciates every challenge.

The final word:
Thus, I come to my conclusion: "Lui" polarizes the masses because it turns the familiar scent architecture upside down. "As above, so below" is the guideline here. Those who accept this challenge can enjoy an hour-long, sweet base. Normally, many perfumes offer such a thing in a top note, and that for just a few minutes. The catch remains: one must fight through a sultry jungle full of wild animals.

My great thanks go to Pazuzu (the Parfumo) for this generous sample and the associated, puzzling, "turning everything upside down" scent experience :-) .

... and the little boy pressed his nose against the subtly laundry-scented sweater of his grandfather; unaware that he would never see him again.

The little boy was already very excited. He was traveling with his mother to his father's hometown in the central Anatolian highlands. No, his beloved father was not there. He was in faraway Germany. But someone else he loved just as much was in that village: his grandfather.
The little boy's mother was less thrilled about this short trip from the city center of Ankara to the province. She had to deliver some bad news to the old man. Her husband had decided to bring the family to Germany because of the civil war.

The beautiful village on a hillside was reached. As the bus doors opened, the little boy was already running down the dirt path towards the village. In the distance, at the entrance of the village, he saw a figure and couldn't quite make out who it was. He ran towards it and recognized the silhouette of his 'Dede', which means grandfather. To be sure, he called out: "Grandpa, is that you?". The figure in the shape of an old man knelt down and opened his arms. Grandpa and grandson embraced each other, enveloped by the earthy scent wafting from the nearby fields. As the boy looked into the joy-filled eyes of his grandpa, he could still smell the hay from the barns and the light manure scent he appreciated from the stables. Manure was valuable and versatile in the countryside. Used in the spring on the fields, it was dried in the summer and now in the fall used as fuel.

After mother and grandpa had talked about the upcoming emigration to faraway Germany, grandpa came to the little boy. It seemed as if a few tears had hidden under the shining eyes of the grandpa. Understandably so; this boy was the youngest son of his youngest son. After his departure, the old man would have no more grandchildren nearby. The other grandchildren had already moved far away. Grandpa hugged his youngest grandson to his chest and called out to his wife to shoo away the geese. The little boy sensed something was wrong and broke away from grandpa. He shouted: "No, she shouldn't do anything to the geese!" Grandpa was surprised and assured the boy that it was only about an egg. Shortly thereafter, a fried egg (of the special kind :-) was prepared on a cooking spot outside. The boy wondered how a single egg could fill an entire pan. The scent of the pine wood used for the fire stayed in his mind. Even 35 years later, he would love that wood scent, even if many only considered it sawdust.

In the evenings, it always got very cool in the countryside. The little boy thought that even the mules were better equipped against the cold. They practically always had their fur with them, and on top of that, a leather saddle. His beloved grandpa only had simple gloves made of two-ply wool yarn. But a comfort for the little one was that grandpa could light a cigarette or a pipe if he got too cold. And at night, he would have his wife, dear grandma, by his side. The very woman who seemed to wash her husband's sweater every evening, so that this simple sweater smelled subtly and pleasantly of laundry the next day.

The inevitable day of farewell came. Grandpa held his youngest grandson close to his chest, and the little boy pressed his nose against the subtly laundry-scented sweater of his grandfather; unaware that he would never see him again.

Today, after more than 35 years, the little boy, who has now become a mature man in his prime, sits on a chair and sprays some of Brosius' Greenbriar 1968 on himself. The first thought that crosses his mind is: "Grandpa, is that you?"

-Thank you very much to Yatagan for this beautiful olfactory experience-