Ergreifend

Surely some of you know the statement or the book?

That's what the creators of this perfume thought as well and gave the scent a rather, let's say, peculiar name for an even more peculiar combination.

The scent itself really smells like cheap whiskey from the supermarket, which has been thoroughly mixed with peach and fig syrup. Greasy, oily, it settles in the nape and throat. It scratches very unpleasantly and a hint of sadness arises as soon as you wear it for a longer time. Because the initial sweetness of the adulterated alcohol soon transforms into a feeble work of stale smoke, paired with dense spice that wanders around chaotically, as if it were not welcome at all and it doesn’t fit. You can also catch a whiff of hay, albeit faintly, but it is already present. It feels out of place, cannot be directly integrated, and the scent itself quickly feels overloaded, making you quite fed up with it, as it does not harmonize at all.

However, the longevity and sillage are rather restrained for the annoying notes and do not match the start that the scent delivers here.

One of those fragrances that do not remotely correspond to what I would wear. It may still be interesting for some who enjoy wild combinations. For me personally, it is nothing.

When someone asks me what Tempo smells like, I can only respond: It’s like diving in. Clearing the head. Submerging all worries and heavy thoughts in the cool water. All of this is followed by a stormy wave that brings a lot of spiciness and lush greenery, almost taking your breath away.

When you resurface, you are enveloped by a warm, earthy note called Patch. Very pleasing, very comforting, and quite powerful. At the heart, a spark of light filled with resin drops that sink into the damp earth in slow motion. This whole spectacle is surrounded by bouncing fireflies that dance wildly in the night.

As you exhale, a hint of light wood adds to the scent, allowing it to ease off a bit. It’s no coincidence that it’s called Tempo.

Good sillage and excellent longevity. One of my favorites from the house and certainly one of the most appealing patchouli scents I know. More on the light green side and not painted black, as is often the case in this fragrance category.

Mandorle smells like a cozy home, bathed in a shimmering candlelight flood.
Outside rain, cold, and wind. Inside a soft, fluffy heart, wrapped in warm blankets. Rich tonka bean, sunk in warm cocoa, with a hefty dollop of whipped cream. Alongside, a hint of smoke that hangs bittersweet in the air. Over time, the scent becomes slightly leathery, rough. It fits incredibly well with the sweetness of the tonka bean and the warm cocoa.

It breathes long under the warm blanket before something warm and sandy makes itself comfortable in the heart. The tonka bean, however, always remains at the highest peak, never dethroned until the end.
Light notes of caramel milk towards the end, which slightly clash. Fluffy, creamy, it draws into the wearer's spirit.

Great scent for the cold season. Perfect for coming and going home. Sillage and longevity are consistently impressive. The bottle is a feast for the eyes.

Accident à La Vanille smells like a warm chocolate - vanilla croissant. From the opening, through the heart, to the dry down. The scent is exactly what it offers upon first skin contact. There’s not much to add. Go get what you give!

At night, when you stroll through the streets of Paris, inhaling the scent of warm croissants, wandering in the dense shadows of sandalwood in the city light, and drawing in warm patchouli, this scent is the only one that fits. It gives a proper, warm milk shot. Warm and enchanting. The croissant scent lingers for a long time and clings to the wearer's heels. The sillage is noticeably more subdued. Unfortunately, the fragrance doesn’t delve deep but rather slumbers on the skin before it completely fades away. Only a hint of vanilla and chocolate remains. Sandalwood appears significantly paler towards the end. A pleasant scent if you’re into walking croissants. It has something, but it doesn’t match my mood.

More depth would certainly suit it well. A hint of coffee or cinnamon wouldn’t be bad either. Well made and delicious, but for other souls.

Argos can do so much: beautiful, heavy, high-quality bottles, intense longevity, and also some rather brutal sillage. What Argos can also do, as with this fragrance here, is to be incredibly nerve-wracking.

La Primavera is the epitome of heavy fare when it comes to powdery, strongly floral scents. It settles like a stone on the chest and makes it hard to breathe.

The fragrance starts off very heavy and powdery, almost dusty, leaving the pores and senses completely compressed. So dense that it creates a mist that hardly dissipates in the stuffy air. Moreover, a heavy burden of flowers (with the rose clearly taking the lead here) hangs over it all. It also feels somewhat old-fashioned and stale. Over time, a hint of vanilla joins in, trying to soften and sweeten the whole construct. But this fails entirely. It remains powdery, heavily floral, and dusty. Moths invade the thoughts, swinging joyfully in the dirty wardrobe.

That was probably not it. I was infinitely relieved, after the intense and long shower session, not to have to perceive the scent anymore. The longevity and sillage here are not overwhelming, and that’s a good thing, but the annoying aspect of this fragrance leaves you no air to breathe.

And those swinging moths also don’t let go of you for a long time. Because I had to think about that for days. Nothing helps, even if the bottle is so beautiful and high-quality.