Esclarmonde

I have always been a little drama queen. Even when I was born, a storm hung over the land. As a young girl, I was defiant, as a teenager stubborn and unruly. In those early years, I had already turned heads, from stable boys to the son of a count. My passions soon pulled me into some dark corners, and I often woke up disheveled and far from home. How my parents scolded me! And warned me - in vain… One night it happened: the young man, my latest crush, was different from all the others. He seemed to draw me in, seemed to know where to find me. In a moment, everything happened so quickly: a jolt, a bite, and since then I have been spending my days in the darkness of my precious hideaways.
I only see the sun rise on television now. When I want to go shopping, I depend on the winter months. Quite silly when you want to have summer dresses too!

Since I breathed my last life, I have relied on external warmth: my open fireplaces, warm blankets, hot blood, a warm, living body by my side… I wrap myself in decadence and wealth that I have come to through dark paths, on my deadly, wounded, dark paths.

Other things warm me too: music by Orlando di Lasso, especially Vinum bonum or Alma redemptoris mater or the summer (presto) by Antonio Vivaldi, I enjoy listening to during the lost nights that are my life. Lush arrangements of flower bouquets, in the colors of my beloved summer, whose hue I miss like the desert misses water. The colorful, vibrant images of Renoir or the visual intoxication of the works of Gustav Klimt. On some love nights, I felt like a protagonist of "Water Serpents I," as if the air, the atmosphere, everything around me were infused with sparkling gems and jewels.

And I fend off the cold with scents. With warm, rounded fragrances. Among them, for about twenty years, Maroussia. All the colorful, vibrant flowers, as I can only have them brought to me by the florist. Blood red, snow white, purple, and sunny yellow. I will never again be able to pick them myself in the spring sun. Spicy and warm amber, as dark and wicked as my whole life, and civet, enchanting and intoxicating like I am in the face of a victim. Vanilla, what a delicious note for a creature with no passion for consuming anything other than blood! Along with resinous, warm benzoin…

Without Maroussia, I would not survive some nights; I would have to put an end to some summer days of my eternal loneliness and run out into the mercilessly good sun. In those nights, only the thought of it is warmer than my enveloping Maroussia.

What have I celebrated! How far I have traveled! What have I lived! But I have never lived and felt alive again like before that cursed night. Thus, I am indestructible life on one hand and incomplete and dependent on foreign life on the other. Envied by many, yet so lonely and broken.

This scent suits me so well: it wants to be in the sun, wants life, but at the same time wants it in a dark way. It is complicated, drawing you in one moment, only to become so heavy the next that you stagger back, almost intoxicated. It is opulent like a blood-red velvet robe, which at first appears dazzlingly elegant, but immediately proves to be stiff and obstructive to any grace. So are we, my scent and I: attractive but dangerous and irritating, alive but sometimes suffocating and without lightness, infinitely alive and yet so heavy. My dark, heavy, invisible companion in the dark, dark night.

Good night out there, whatever you may be!

A well-organized wardrobe gives us various options, offers us many little adjustment screws to optimize our outfit: better this pair of sunglasses with this bag, otherwise it looks too flashy… Better the high-cut dress, but gladly the hoops… Better long sleeves with the short skirt… Well, most people will know this, you want to feel beautiful, but not be stared at or looked down upon. Most of the time, you want to look good in everyday life, but not too flashy. And often you have to adapt to your surroundings or fit into the situation: at work, at a wedding, at a conference…

So here we are adjusting. Making compromises, maybe holding back a bit.

But! There are also days when the world belongs to us!!! Those are the days when we are the birthday kids or those on vacation conquering the city while strolling, laughing with friends in our favorite café, celebrating a passed exam, having all wishes free and pockets full of money…

For such days, Truth or Dare fits perfectly: days when strangers smile at us because they see we are doing well, because we shine. Days when we wear an invisible crown. Days when we don’t need an MP3 player to have music in our ears. Days when we simply ignore what we usually refrain from or what would normally give us a headache in front of the wardrobe. We walk down the street and feel the gazes of those who turn around, see the faces of people smiling at us, and ignore the sometimes toxic looks from some who seem to think, “Does she really have such earrings with that dress… And then this scent…?” And we respond in our thoughts, “Yes! She does!” And add, “Because she can! Wuahuahua!” Because on these radiant days, we can afford not to care. Because the day belongs to us. Because today we are kings and queens. Because today we don’t have to fit in anywhere.

Truth or Dare is like an ice cream sundae with four scoops of our favorite flavors, topped with whipped cream, colorful heart sprinkles, and then cheekily crowned with a big amarena cherry while picturing our fitness trainer’s face.

This fragrance has it tough. Because it was born as a celebrity scent and then as Madonna's child. Therefore, on one hand, it is sometimes dismissed as a celebrity fragrance, while on the other hand, some approach it with a condescending attitude out of antipathy towards Madonna. In an interview with the artist, I read that she wanted to capture the scent of her early deceased mother with the fragrance. It is likely that it may have been Robert Piguet's Fracas from 1948? But that's just a guess based on the fact that Madonna's fragrance bears a striking resemblance to Fracas, even if Madonna's scent cannot boast such a rich composition as Fracas. Speaking of composition: Truth or Dare remains relatively constant in character on my skin after a certain time (about 30 minutes), only changing in that it becomes softer and quieter. A complex evolution should not be expected here.

So tuberose. Yes, but here the sweetness, the almost narcotic sweetness of the night-blooming jasmine has really been captured. It is combined with other heavy white flowers: gardenia, jasmine, neroli, lily. Truly a scent for queens of the night! Added to that is sweet, lovely amber, which brings a soft, graceful depth, vanilla, and my beloved benzoin, which somehow smells almost delicious; you definitely don't want to stop smelling it.

So this fragrance has it tough - and it is heavy itself. But it is also incredibly positive, like joy in a spray! The game Truth or Dare, after which Madonna named her perfume, is actually a bit of a trick. In English, it suggests a choice between truth OR dare. However, this choice doesn’t really exist: whoever chooses truth and reveals something about themselves takes just as much of a risk as the one who chooses dare and has to undertake something at the whim of the players. Anyone wearing this fragrance must have courage, must take a risk, because being quiet, adjusted, and inconspicuous is out of the question! The scent is a statement. A very lasting one, by the way, with a room-filling sillage.

Truth or Dare also smells sultry. I find the scent very feminine, but men should wear what they feel like too. In any case, I find it very delicious and sexy. In a forum, someone once asked what scent we could imagine on vampires. As an avid recipient of True Blood, I must say: definitely Truth or Dare! These heavy, sweet white flowers, that’s how I imagine the scent of hot nights in the American South. And then there’s that sultry note… If I wanted to attract vampires, this would be my scent of choice; it definitely has something of an attractant.

Gilbert Bécaud once said about his first encounter with Brigitte Bardot: “Then I saw how Brigitte arrived on set… there came a siren or, I don’t know, a wonder, a scandal, a tempting cake, a delicacy, she was simply grand.”

That’s how I feel with Truth or Dare - on those very special days of the year.

Who doesn’t know, love, and cherish the annual rituals? Only in recent years have I become increasingly aware of how valuable rituals and traditions within a family or community are! Only since my father passed down the cherished family recipe for THE Christmas dinner, which has been cooked in my family for generations and ONLY on Christmas Eve, do I recognize from a new perspective how beautiful it all was, back then, at home. My father no longer has an audience. The kitchen remains cold, the children are all gone. Instead, our parents now take their seats on Christmas Eve at my brother’s table - and are served the Christmas dinner there! Meanwhile, I cook the dish for my beloved's family. Last week, my father was overjoyed to shop for ingredients with me, which deeply touched me. Because - as one of my favorite sayings goes - tradition is not the preservation of ashes, but the passing on of the flame.

But: The rituals, the magic, one must also create as an adult; it doesn’t come entirely on its own. One must buy and decorate the tree to make the living room cozy. One must invite guests to become a festive gathering. One can also dress up nicely to avoid feeling like it’s just another day off in sweatpants on Christmas.
So, I strive to create my own traditions. I dress up on Christmas Eve (just like my father used to, standing in the kitchen in a white shirt and dress pants!) and cook all morning and into the afternoon. I put on something nice, style my hair up, play festive music, wear jewelry, and - guess what - yes, a lovely fragrance.

Now we have arrived at the core of the matter, which you might know: which one? As someone with numerous fragrances, one often finds oneself in the position on special days to crown one as the royal scent, to choose the one that suits best at that moment. I often find myself staring blankly into my fragrance drawer for minutes on end during birthdays, celebrations, days when I’ve accomplished something, or on special occasions. Meditatively.
This year, I will initiate a new tradition. This year, Nuit de Noel has come to me.

I have read so much and so varied about Nuit de Noel that it confuses me. It starts with the pyramid: Caron itself reveals only three notes on the website, namely jasmine, Saxon moss, and amber. Saxon moss is supposed to smell similar to oak moss? In another place, I read a pyramid that contains no iris, which already rules out my perception of the fragrance: I recognize a delightful iris note that lasts for quite some time!

There are also many tales about the creation of Nuit de Noel. Ernest Daltroff is said to have dedicated the fragrance to his beloved and business partner, Felicie Wanpouille (who, by the way, was also responsible for the packaging at the house), who supposedly loved the magic of Christmas. A lovely thought. Furthermore, he is said to have tried to capture the scent of fresh marron glacé, candied chestnuts, in Nuit de Noel. A hint of Christmas desserts, then. Also a lovely thought. But: Do we even need these thoughts for a fragrance that is clearly dedicated to Christmas Eve? Don’t we each have our own wonderful associations that come to mind? So, I was curious and eager to test the Christmas magic and introduce a new festive fragrance tradition - perhaps, if I like it.

And: Nuit de Noel pleases! Even though it is not an easy character, I had to sniff it for days to learn to appreciate it. None of the pyramids I found list cloves or other spices, which is surprising because the very first and also lasting impression is one of pronounced spiciness. Clove, cinnamon… something in that direction. In the background, the Caron rose. Underneath, a bitter amber note. The fragrance also has something green (the Saxon moss, perhaps!?), which does not bring any coldness. And then, after a few minutes, the iris! Suddenly it appears, stepping forward from behind the other notes and becoming very prominent. Simply beautiful!

Thus, Nuit de Noel smells of noble, dry spices, subtle flowers, and amber as well, but by no means like a Christmas fragrance blend, not like a potpourri for the house or an attempt to conjure up roasted almonds and cotton candy from the Christmas market. The vanilla remains quite subtle in the background. It is also not light or overwhelmingly lively-floral. It slightly reminds me of L’Air du Temps by Nina Ricci, due to the clove spice note.

I dream of Christmas Paris on Christmas Eve. I imagine the festive city, snow-covered, Notre Dame on its island, Sacre Coeur glowing in the starry night from afar. A dark shadowy blue lies over the enchanted parks and streets, warm festive light spills from the tall windows into the biting cold streets...

So, I really don't want to offend any die-hard fans with this comment title or put people in boxes (although - yes! Boxes are sometimes great) or anything like that, just to get that out of the way!

What I'm getting at is: there are things that are totally awesome but somehow also embarrassing. There are some Bon Jovi songs that I think are really amazing. Keep the Faith, for example. Runaway. Dead or Alive. And others too. However, in my opinion, they unfortunately had too many soft rock tracks, which is really not my thing. So, it's always a bit uncomfortable for me to admit that I listen to them from time to time. I always have to add: “But only the upbeat ones!” And that softener mullet look was also a bit much at some point.
I feel similarly about 90s Eurodance music, like the dance floor hits Rhythm of the Night or Rhythm is a Dancer or Open Sesame... Another chapter altogether.
All of this sometimes brings me so much joy; I flip around the apartment and play air guitar… And yet: somehow, it can be a bit embarrassing.

Translated into fragrance, this is Jil Sander's Sun. By the way, it fits perfectly into that era, so 90s! A bit too much of everything, but with a punch that is unmatched. A hurricane of vanilla, heliotrope, woods, and other flowers, I still find Sun totally amazing!

Do you want to hear my personal story with Sun? The reason why I ALWAYS have it close by?

Well, it started when I went to boarding school at the age of 12. The cool, older girls had Sun. I thought that was so great. I wanted it too. At 14, I received my first bottle from my beloved godmother for my confirmation. A few weeks later, I had a serious accident where I almost lost my life. Massive blood loss, hospital, a severe and intense turning point in my life. When I was finally allowed to leave the hospital and slowly came to, summer had arrived outside. I went back to school and recovered. I caught up on my missed assignments while wearing Sun. I had to go to the doctor often and wore Sun then. I had to go to the police and court and wore Sun then. And then came the day of a school trip to the Kaltenberg Knight Games. We traveled by coach with the aforementioned musical accompaniment, life was bustling outside, I smelled of Sun again, I threw myself into the colorful chaos of the knight tournament and became aware for the first time again: I am still here! I live! I am back!!!!

I celebrate the day of my accident every year as my second birthday. And for me, Sun stands for life, survival, joy of living, sunshine, new beginnings, hope, the door is open, summer is here, the world is waiting. It reminds me of that incredible time.

I understand everyone who finds Sun annoying. And the fact that so many people had it and have "over-saturated" themselves with it sometimes makes it hard for me to wear it in public. Because I also think when I catch a whiff of it on the subway, “Oh no, someone has doused themselves in Sun!” You like the smell of Sun on yourself, but on others, it's more like, eh.

Sun is loud. Sun is a crowd-pleaser. Sun is bulky. When you wear Sun, you can hardly get through narrow doors or onto buses and crowded subways. In this sense, Sun is like a gigantic afro hairstyle. Or like a bouquet of brightly colored balloons: try not to stand out with that!

Nevertheless: Sun is also incredibly positive, exuberant, and infectious.

It's like a pleasantly familiar quirk that you actually wanted to break free from, but then you keep falling back into it because you can't do without it:

Like your favorite pair of sneakers: actually way too worn out, but on some days, they just fit best, and you can't give them up.

Like a really good electric guitar solo that you've heard a thousand times - no matter, it's still awesome!

Or like the thick eyeliner that you just can't go without, which is both pornographic and dramatic, but just so great, that's why you wear it every day.

In this sense: This is the Rhythm of the Night… My Life… Oh yeah…

Usually, I prefer friendly scents. Friendly not in the sense of "I'm actually not here," meaning a narrow, unobtrusive sillage, and not in the sense of "No no, I only wear citrus notes. No one will be bothered by those," so rather restrained ingredients. I mean friendly in the sense of feminine, preferably floral or spicy, and very much powdery. Diorissimo, Shalimar, Cinema… This is how I would like "friendly" to be understood here.

Sometimes, however, there are days when a woman just wants to stomp! Or at least not have a fluffy scent. For example, when one has to give a presentation or when a DFG inspection is coming up. Or when an important conference is taking place that one has helped organize. On those days, a woman doesn’t want to smell too gourmand or overwhelmingly sweet-powdery. But of course, I still want to smell good!

And there are also days when one is not just tense (which can also be positive), but, as they say, ready for a brawl!
So much for one side, the side of the wearer - me.
Now to the scent. The reactions to Cabochard, the strong-willed one, are really entertaining because they are so varied:

A dear colleague, a truly cool mother and a real lady with a doctorate, an incredibly stylish hairstyle, wardrobe, and a lot of good humor, only sniffed it once and immediately ran off to get it. She has been wearing it almost non-stop since.

A younger dear colleague, who usually prefers light and sweet scents, didn’t understand it and wrinkled her nose.

My mother (born in 1942) wore Miss Dior EdT original for a long time and said "Hmmmm!"

My beloved smelled it, paused, and then asked, "Yes, but on a woman!?"

Yes, indeed, on a woman! That's exactly it: Sometimes I want to wear an olfactory kick in the pants for all those who are currently underestimating me. I want to smell strong and grown-up. And I have no particular joy in wearing pantsuits, so the pinstripe number is out. I prefer to wear a skirt or dress to work and style my hair up; that’s my way of being serious.

I had to laugh recently when I read an association with Cabochard elsewhere: "It smells like the handbag (leather) of a chain smoker (tobacco)" - very funny and, to be honest, not so inaccurate! These are indeed the main characteristics of Cabochard, the traits that mark it as a scent from another era. Because: if you look at the new releases of recent years, you hardly find such leather notes, tobacco, and oakmoss in a women's fragrance. By the way, the strong leather note reminds me of Estée Lauder's Azuree and also a bit of Balmain's Jolie Madame, although without the embellishment of pleasing floral accords.

Cabochard is for the tough appointments, for the heavy days, for the rain one has to go through. It’s the kick in the pants, the leather whip, the biker boot that prevents someone from making a fool of you.

Cabochard is the Myrmidon among Chypres: it wears black (leather) armor and looks grim.

Cabochard is the Beowulf among my fragrances: I call upon it when it gets dark and uncomfortable.

Cabochard is Theseus when a Minotaur has sneaked into my labyrinth.

Cabochard stays with me because it lasts well.

Cabochard is the leather chypre that not all chypre fans wear.

Cabochard was originally designed for women, but it is so unisex! And conversely, it is perceived as very masculine today. Hence the title of this comment, a quote from Fettes Brot.

So be aware, when you encounter someone with Cabochard in the outer rim of everyday life, that this person has chosen a strong companion for that day for some reason.

"On remote paths
In rainy cities
After foggy parties
In trampled flower beds
At damaged counters
On countless planets
In daily life
You might encounter gay girls"
- Fettes Brot