First

"Come as you are, as you were..."
Hey, this is floral, and with a note that I experience as somewhat retro, and with rose."...As I want you to be..."
Oh, I kind of remember old, quieter times when I was more with myself and less with others or with tasks to be done."...As a friend, as a friend..."
A friend to myself, but also completely myself among friends."...As an old enemy..."
Geranium is sometimes a bit depressing for me, but here it's incorporated in a modern way, a bit tart with edge.
"...Take your time, hurry up..."
I have to be careful not to lose scent notes, so to speak, because I adapt to them too quickly. I notice this already with the second wearing and later it confirms itself. After a break of a few days I feel the fragrance again much more intense."...Choice is yours, don't be late..."
Actually, I want to wear it every day.
"...Take a rest as a friend..."
That's how much he's become a friend to me, but I have to take a break or I won't notice him anymore."...As an old memoria..."
The scent reminds me of the song by Nirvana, Kurt Cobain and an old college buddy I listened to this song with often and then the saying "Come as you are" became a common phrase.
"...Come doused in mud..."
Something dirty has the fragrance subterranean also, otherwise he should hardly live up to his name of the Agent Provocateurs.
"...Soaked in bleach..."
The pepper already gives it some artificial bleach and washes the dirt to the bearable.
"...As I want you to be..."
I can now decide what I want to smell out, quaffable ylang-ylang, pale pepper, sad geranium, a hint of hippie patchouli, the roses of old ladies, soothing amber.
"...As a trend, as a friend..."
My personal trend is back to the roots, no matter what the trend is right now, my trend is going to myself.
"...As an old memoria..."
To my past.
"...And I swear that I don't have a gun..."
Yes, I do have a few Juliette has a Guns.
"...No, I don't have a gun..."
Yes, I do!
"...No, I don't have a gun..."
Yes!!
"...No, I don't have a gun..."
And Kurt Cobain had one too.
Unfortunately.

When I see women with almost white lipstick or bell bottoms, I think oakmoss and the 70s. When I see harsh contrasts in colors, large geometric patterns, and shoulder pads, I think Wummser and the 80s. When I see belly shirts, very low waist pants with thongs or tattoos peeking out, I think of the first forerunners of the gourmands that are still so successful today and the 90s. When I think of the noughties, I think of the so-called duckface, an excessive flanker culture, the self-evident liberation from fashion dictates and the increasing unisex trend. The decade of this millennium marks the beginning of what Happy Hour is perfecting here: The wholesale replacement of earlier fragrances with new, artificial molecules that not all people can perceive equally, the olfactory T-Rex hand, so to speak.

I love testing Diors, always hoping for a scent that excites me like Ambre Nuit or the old Dune. But the Diors of recent years all could not really convince me anymore, they seemed to me but always paler and dominated by the T-Rex hand of artificial fragrances. Nevertheless, I was not encouraged and exchanged Happy Hour.

I spray and - oha, there is no question of pallor! This is intense, this is extreme, this is red pepper underlaid with neat violet leaf. Extremely artificial, though fortunately notes that I don't think are bad in themselves. Miraculous only that they don't find themselves in the pyramid. Once the initial shock and intensity has subsided somewhat, I try to detect something behind this peppery violet leaf, but I don't quite want to, the wave is just too much in the foreground. After about an hour or so, I can now detect something pleasantly sweet and a hint of warmth behind the pepper that continues to dominate. In the heart note, a jasmine scent slowly and gently begins to emerge that makes me nostalgic for turn-of-the-millennium mainstreamers; it's a jasmine that seems rather soft and artificial, but thankfully not indolic in the process. Meanwhile, the pepper apparently begins to join the sweetish portion, and along with the violet leaf, awakens a tinge of anise candy in me.
Curiously, I wait for the base. I hope to discover behind the continuing dominant notes from the start perhaps a touch of cranberry or a little ylang-ylang.
Unfortunately, I do not succeed. There is some warmth added, perhaps a hint of vanilla, but as the jasmine, pepper and violet leaf fade, so do the anise candies and the entire scent until after about 6 hours it is barely perceptible and then completely evaporated.

Now was that a tease? I don't think so. I do not reject the T-Rex hand after all. It is just posed, artificial, not lifelike and thus paradoxically has something very traditional: The concealment of real feelings and the preservation of an outer appearance as it was opportune in the last century, especially among the higher ten thousand.
In this respect, this Dior has something that is otherwise attributed to Chanel: Cool restraint and the suitability for official occasions, where true feelings, spontaneity and the private must take a back seat.
In this sense, I find Happy Hour less pleasurable than the name suggests, but still surprisingly good.

Surely you are familiar with the view that what comes at us from the outside is a mirror of our inside. There are also some sayings about this. One of the simplest and shortened to relationships would be, as one calls into the forest, so it resounds out. The idea of attracting things according to the resonance principle, however, goes as far as the idea of formulating one's own wishes to the universe so that they would then be fulfilled.
Sometimes, though, we seem to attract, without wishing to, a series of similar events that we would normally assume have nothing to do with us. Why, for example, has my mother given me at least every other piece of clothing in purple for the past 20 years or so? Purple doesn't suit me at all and I don't understand why she doesn't seem to see it too. Even after I must have mentioned 40 times that purple doesn't look good on me and besides that I don't like it that much, I keep getting purple clothes as gifts. Does my mother see something in me that I don't see in myself and that she translates into purple? At the latest the moment someone else gave me a purple silk scarf, specially designed for me with silk painting, I thought that was absurd, something couldn't be right. Do I have a blind spot? Do I represent the color purple? Or do I represent a lack of purple? You can really get into doubt!

But why the long preface?
Because it goes to me with rose fragrances - almost - the same. Unlike purple in clothing, I like the scent of roses in gardens and the great outdoors very much. In perfumes, however, it is already a little more difficult: Often I smell, if rose is indicated, not really rose, but only something unspecifically floral or rose geranium, which I often find unattractive and somewhat dreary old-fashioned. I dedicated a blog article to this phenomenon years ago. But there are also fragrances in which I smell rose as rose, where I like the fresh, citrusy roses best. But as beautiful as I find roses and their scent outside, in perfumes I tend to find them boring, especially when they go in the direction of soliflora.
But just like the color purple, rose scents steadily want to me. They are offered to me with striking frequency for exchange or sent along as freebies. With roses, however, I realize by now that I've probably been shouting "ROSES!" in woods without even realizing it.
While I quickly discarded countless rose scents, miraculously I now have four very different, almost-soliflors of them in my collection, starting with Valentino Donna Rosa Verde and Roses Elixir and ending with Secret Rose and Nin Shar. I treasure them very much and wouldn't want to miss all four of them. Sometime comes hopefully still number 5 to it, Rose Jam.

Now we would finally have landed at the fragrance description. Why can Rose Jam convince me?
Well, that wasn't so easy, because Rose Jam starts out sour and fermented. The comparison that others here drew to Sí, I can therefore very well understand. The impression that someone had accidentally poured their alcopop over my forearm was adhoc, just like with Sí. Fortunately, in contrast to Sí, this fermented note lasts much less long in Rose Jam and also decreases in intensity after a short time. On the other hand, Rose Jam has a strange undertone of old cooking oil in the opening. That is certainly the rose geranium, my old spoilsport, which shines through.
Behind that, to the rescue, a friendly, intense, yet transparent rose emerges in the very first minutes, which has neither the tendentially heavy, voluminous appearance of typical, Bulgarian roses, nor the citrusy lightness of what I imagine to be a bright, yellow rose. I imagine Rose Jam's rose to be red and unfilled, and in terms of fragrance character, in the middle of the two described above.

Rose Jam includes the word jam for a reason. The rose is cooked into fruity jam. What kind of fruit is it? The closest I could make out is a hint of strawberry jam. It is wonderfully sweet, just jam sweet, not grape sugar sweet, not burnt maltol sweet, not weird sugar substitute sweet. To the sweetness comes a good measure of musk of the pleasant kind, not stuffy, also not powdery and without plastic impression.
In the course Rose Jam I like better and better, because the fermented is after 20 minutes only fine fruit acid and after an hour completely disappeared. The rose geranium with its edible oil depression has already been put to flight at the very beginning.
A further course I can not recognize at first. Rose Jam remains over 5-6 hours just deliciously sweet rose jam with a fine proportion of strawberries and musk.

The next day, however, I discover that obviously some cinnamon was also involved. I get dressed and spontaneously think: Wow, did I eat French rolls yesterday? My blouse smells so delicious. I hadn't eaten a French roll, it must have been the leftover Rose Jam.

Two things remain to be said: thank you MelOn for the compelling sample. And - the blouse was not purple, of course.

Fresh as an unknown, but not sweet fruit or perhaps a vegetable, not watermelon, not cucumber, but comparable in freshness and with an unusually delicate, aromatic spiciness, Elderflower begins right away with a surprise.
After already two minutes increasingly spicy and now sweetish, but still bright and rather light, I feel this impressive fragrance after nearly 2000 tested as something really new. At the same time, it comes across as coherent in such a light-footed, self-evident way that it also stands out pleasantly from other fragrances that are novel: Here, nothing seems intentional, striking, demonstrative, but it simply creates the impression that here someone has had irrepressible joy to create a wonderful fragrance and has proceeded with intuition and cheerfulness.

To the heart note, the unknown, fresh fruit and the aromatic combine with a new, also fruity and yet mildly sweet, yet not at all acidic note to a bright, warm, slightly creamy with ease floating melange that soothes. Further, they are all notes that I know so far from no other fragrance.
The only thing that I think I recognize is a very delicate, light touch of heliotrope.

And so we now have something doubly familiar to me: firstly, the heliotrope and secondly, my Jo Malone phenomenon. I have not yet been able to follow the pyramid with a single Jo Malone. I have so far tested 11 fragrances of the brand and only one I can -removed- discover what is indicated as fragrance notes (at Tropical Cherimoya).
Maybe my previous disappointment by this brand is related to that: I do like to get samples of fragrances whose pyramid appeals to me. With the Malones this approach did not work so far at all.

Gen base, the heliotrope impression and the fruity still increase a little and the very fresh notes from the beginning withdraw, otherwise the character remains the same: Aromatic, mild, bright and except for the heliotrope completely new, fruity, without me the fruit seems familiar.
The durability seems mediocre when I wear it, but the next day I can hardly get my nose away from my leather bracelet, which must have gotten a spray.
I really appreciate both the scent of elderflowers, the juice of elderberries and also a bit of the tart scent from the elderflower. I also like gooseberries. Here, none of that is to be found.
This time, however, I still got a dreamy scent with my choice after Pyramid, which I will love and wear with great pleasure.
Thank you Geschpusi!
Only after my elderflower fragrance I must then probably still look for.

Blind as a bat, I'm testing this lovely scent from Kima's blind test hike package and won't know the resolution until after this comment is complete. I also agreed to post my review unchanged after the resolution. And here it is now.

There is only a neutral tube for me to see, no brand, no name, no pyramid. The image of the blind mole fits also otherwise quite well to the tested fragrance, which I review here, because I feel as if I can not see anything, but landed in a cozy and well-equipped warm burrow.
The entire fragrance feels very natural to me.

Initially briefly somewhat citrusy, but not with the typical top note bergamot or lemon of other fragrances, but milder, more subdued, it starts slightly waxy immediately with intense vanilla. Perhaps the vanilla is combined with benzoin or tonka.
Sweetish, but not maltol sweet, the combination develops very harmoniously warm to a soft, cozy autumn and winter scent for cold, uncomfortable days. Briefly I wonder if it could be a fragrance from the Shalimar series, but I discard the thought, because I now perceive something patchouli and the overall impression does not develop in the typical direction for Guerlain.

The patchouli is subtle, but since I have many fragrances with patchouli, I am already quite well adapted to it and smell it in smallest quantities sometimes no longer good out. As it progresses, I clearly notice that there is something else, slightly spicy and resinous in the background, but because the vanilla is extremely intense for me, I can't really isolate it to pinpoint it. Is it myrrh with a hint of tobacco? Minimally sandalwood? I can not say it exactly, even after multiple testing, but gen base sets with me more and more the impression of soft vanilla tobacco and remains from now on the determining factor of this beautiful and harmonious fragrance, in which I just want to fall with closed eyes, snuggle comfortably in my mole hole and enjoy!

And since the fragrance holds over determined 8-9 hours until it very slowly weakens and fades, I have enough time for it.
Thank you Kima!