Esther19

When I say I love - also - "old-fashioned" composed perfumes, I mean this divine little potion alongside "Bal a Versaille"! Mona di Oro is said to have been dedicated to Serge Lutens in admiration, one of the scattered promotional announcements at the launch stated. I am referring to the first version, which is said to be significantly weaker than the one released after the death of Mona di Orio; I do not know it.
Advertising is not necessary! This is a finely crafted perfume with presence, certainly a scent that does justice to the evening, but Serge-fearful ones need not panic. And those who still feel the need to cultivate their prejudices may be missing out on an experience.
It begins with ginger - it reminds me a bit of the beautiful "Nu" by YSL - and cardamom, a breathtaking blend. And then begins my difficulty in recognizing the scent notes. For me, it is primarily a Ylang-Ylang scent, even though the flower is not listed. And thoroughly so. Here, the ingredient list outsmarts me. Jasmine plays along, clove peeks out briefly, later amber - I feel a bit like a beginner at a symphony concert who cannot identify the instruments. Yet the scent music is so beautiful, harmonious, and yet very unique. There are interweavings and nuances, marblings and blending. And undoubtedly, there is an amber quality that is responsible for a very sensual orientation. It is not as dirty as in "Ambra Aurea," so to speak still in the teasing and not yet at the foreplay.
A quirky, almost cantankerous elegance, that is how I would label this exquisite scent. For me, it is not the glittering ball gown, but rather a subtler value like mélange cashmere or crinkle silk, as it has something ethereal about it. One of the most beautiful in my collection.

I confess: I primarily purchased the bottle for its sake, as a bargain. This blend of modernity and a touch of kitsch attracted me. I only know the palaces in Venice with their very morbid charm. I cannot judge the state of the Palazzo of the Fendi house in Rome. Unfortunately, my paths have not yet led me to Rome.
What initially irritates me: a rather chemical cloud of orange blossom, which I do not like in this form. This blossom can be truly impressive, as in Hermès 24, Faubourg - or it can be oily, as I have experienced in an amber scent by Michel Klein and in Caron’s "Narcisse noir" in a newer version. And I also know that a similar note bothered me in "Prada Ambre," although it was less pronounced there.
These blossoms, perhaps also in combination with the roses, and a hint of pear then relax significantly,
none of the components mentioned in the top note reveal themselves to me. After the fresh color scent has faded, "Palazzo" becomes much more appealing, especially when the jasmine bush swells. However, it seems that this one has also suffered a bit during restoration, as it appears to be wilting - likely overshadowed by the patchouli. I do not know if it is still the orange blossom or already the patchouli that insists a bit, not as a wicked, cellar-like monster, rather dusty, then it appears again elegant and woody underpinned, with little sweetness and moderate sillage.
Anyway: The scent falls apart too much into phases, some of which I like, and some over which hangs the hint of the
somewhat artificial. The Palazzo has been renovated a bit too strongly; one must throw open the windows to remove the new color scent. Too bad - without the occasional clouds, it would be fine. From the bottle, I certainly cannot chase them away.

I love handbags made of fine leather, even though I can resist buying them much better than perfumes. I only own two good bags and consider this collection sufficient. However, I enjoy visiting leather goods stores, of course also because of the smell. And I always remember a pair of brown leather boots from my teenage years, which I begged my parents for during the GDR times - an "import model" made of wonderfully soft brown leather. I wore them happily and for a long time and learned early on: quality is worth it.
For quite a while, years ago, I hesitated whether to order the CM or not. Then the perfume worm gnawed at me again. Of course, I did! And the assistant tells me that this is one of my most frequently worn scents, followed by "Douce amere," and recently "De profundis" is catching up.
I only gradually worked my way into leather scents, although I had some earlier without being aware of it. Long before Parfumo, I bought "Donna Karan," her signature scent in the controversial bottle, which some wicked tongues claim resembles a toilet duck design. Shame on them. It was a spontaneous, enthusiastic impulse buy - and I've never regretted it! But back then, I was still unaware of the leather note. I also own "Daim blond," the suede scent, which is nice but somewhat less exciting due to its progression.
When I test both scents, "Donna Karan" and "Cuir mauresque," I notice a surprising similarity at first. Finest nappa leather, the DK has a hint of citrus, while the CM is slightly waxy. By that, I mean not a thick, mushy layer, but just enough to coat the fine leather like a film, and it’s not a sweet honey wax, but rather austere, with a certain pleasant strictness. I already associate it with black leather, no playful colors. Yet the "CM" is more balsamic, perhaps initially the myrrh and a slightly dry incense give the leather a somewhat distant direction. And of course, I also find something here that I would describe as SL-typical spicy nuances. I’m talking about cinnamon and clove, which do not want to dominate but can certainly be cooperative rounding notes. The leather scent dominates - and now to my ladies' boots. I explicitly consider this scent to be unisex. However: it should also appeal to women who like a pronounced leather scent that doesn’t come off as overly leathery. It has both warm, multifaceted spicy smoothness and a certain cool note - and that makes it very suitable for everyday wear. I also enjoy wearing it for work - precisely because of its quality and straightforwardness.
Whether "Cuir Mauresque" is truly Moroccan, I cannot judge, although I have been there several times. I am neither a leather nor leather scent specialist. Serge Lutens also likes to play with the names of his fragrances. But however it is: CM is a fine oriental scent and one of the most wearable, but by no means trivial!

"Aqaba" - the name alone sounded so promising that I wanted to have this fragrance. Some places let your imagination run wild: Orient, warmth, Red Sea, opulence. The fact that a port city can certainly have its very prosaic and olfactorily unpleasing sides remains untouched by this.
But indeed - it fits the Orient. Here I imagine magnificent fabrics, black sparkling, beautifully made-up eyes, rustling, hastily thrown meaningful glances, or a secret language that only the initiated understand. "Aqaba" has it all: Truly rich roses play the main role, the kind I like, dripping - not with oil and greasiness, but with spices. Cinnamon and especially clove, a lot of clove, also a hint of noble fruit, whether it's peach, I don't know - in any case, full-bodied and not at all chemical from the filling barrel of indifference. The famous old incense route lies a bit far away; I only smell that little substance at the beginning, not much of it, because the roses and spices hardly tolerate co-players. Sweetness is present, and yet it is not actually a sweet representative. What I only recognize at the end: Quite suppressed jasmine. The fragrance gradually mattes into woodiness, but still, especially the spices swirl around. It has rightly been mentioned here that there is a resemblance to the unreformulated "Opium"! It is indeed significantly fruitier, but actually hardly stronger. A spray from the bottle in the morning lasts until late evening. Yes, it has a noticeable sillage and is more suitable for the evening than for the office. "Aqaba" could certainly be called the evening half-sister of the nocturnal "Opium." It is a bit smoother, softer, "broader," while the latter is rather very urgent and sharp. I love both sisters, not just half.

Olympèa - when one advertises with a goddess, the expectations are set quite high. The bottle initially promised nothing good: it reminds me of "Baiser du Dracon" by Cartier - just slightly kitschy, in case I missed the irony.
In my opinion, the top note has little to do with mandarins - the usual red berry powder touch of the cheapest kind, laced with many questionable colorants - the regret over the thoughtless skin test was great. Still, I chose the sacrificial path - that has been seen in mythology as well. In fact, a slightly salty note emerges, not very sweet - and aquatic notes. The scent feels a tad more pleasant, but only relatively so. The artificially fruity something still tingles - no joy arises. The base then becomes calmer, less noticeable, but without really finding its own tone. Ambergris? Well, who knows which inflatable whale has excreted something. It wasn’t amber! Also not a successful substitute. I truly do not feel divine with this scent - and I do not want to be a mass-produced plastic goddess with scratch marks from the play table. Expectations unmet. The end.