FloraSvecica

I was back in my trusted perfumery today for the first time in a long while. I must say that here in the countryside, there is only this one. A bit bored, I stood in front of the only perfume shelf when a very nice young saleswoman approached me. She asked if I had tried this one yet and, with sparkling eyes, presented me with C-19 and began to explain ISO to me. This was after she awkwardly put Daisy back when she noticed my disturbed facial expression. C 4 means something to me, ISO E super too, I just don’t particularly like chemistry on my skin, but who am I kidding: perfumes are mostly chemistry. Because the saleswoman smiled at me so kindly, I didn’t want to be rude.
A sweet, slightly creamy cloud envelops me, and at first, I must say that I quite like it. With my nostrils slightly flared and full of hope, I dare to inhale deeper through my nose, all of this happening under the expectant gaze of the lady.
Coconut, quite clearly, is the next thing I perceive, and I get summery feelings, which means something when it’s minus 15 degrees and snowing outside. Just when I was starting to feel good, it happens. The coconut beach loses its sweetness, and in my mind's eye, the white sandy beach turns into a brown swamp of washed-up brown algae that have been languishing in the sun for too long. I don’t perceive this smell continuously, but it comes in soft breezes, unfortunately, steadily. I suspect it’s the ISO that ruins my coconut beach here. After half an hour, it’s the only thing that remains, as it always is. It promises you the blue from the sky, and in the end, you’re left with this eternally annoying and same ISO note.
Because I don’t want to disappoint the lady, I tell her that I want to wait until I reach the base to judge it properly. I decide to buy a chew bone for our dog, and lo and behold: I am approached by three customers in the pet store about the great perfume. I am speechless and make my way home, where our dog is already waiting for me joyfully. It’s the first time he doesn’t want a chew bone…

I have a distant aunt in Berlin who is now over 80. Incredibly educated, impeccably dressed, no polyester has ever touched her skin. Tailored by her trusted seamstress. A teacher of the old school. If anyone remembers the film by Loriot Ödipussi - the mother of the protagonist is spot on, although my aunt has 30 kg less on her hips.
As a young student, she always took me to the theater and the opera, as she assumed that I had unfortunately grown up among completely uncultured peasants with pitchforks in northern Germany - her words!
When it came to the opera, Opium was always generously sprayed for the occasion, with absolute nonchalance and without batting an eye. That always blew me away, and I still have incredible respect for this woman. An absolute diva. What has always confused me is that this perfume somehow suggests lived sexuality to me. There is nothing chaste about it, but rather something sensual. And that really didn’t fit my aunt, bringing us back to Ödipussi. My aunt has exactly one son and has been divorced for 40 years, and her only roommate is a female! budgerigar.
I have since tried to interpret this perfume differently, for the reason that this perfume simply fits my old maid aunt incredibly well. It is an absolutely loud, complex, mysterious scent, and despite the warm spiciness, it is in some respects frightening and aloof.
It has the last word and is always right. Now I am a woman, just over 40, who decided at 40 that no one can unsettle me anymore and that I will no longer cater to everyone's wishes. This actually started when I suddenly became dependent on reading glasses. And yet I wonder if I have matured enough inside to have the courage to wear this scent.
My aunt says yes, and sent me an unopened vintage version, of which she claims to have as many bottles as Chanel suits - and that’s quite a few!

A few days ago, the sample arrived, and kindly it was a full 5 ml, which should now last an eternity after just one test.
The longevity and sillage are at 20.
I applied the fragrance discreetly before dinner! It didn't take a minute before my husband said: It smells so strange in here, somehow like an old wardrobe or library. I found that quite interesting and kept my thoughts to myself. Suddenly, the middle one said: where are the sausages, it smells like sausage water. The youngest thought it smelled like charred wood, as if the neighbor was burning his branches and leaves and then putting them out again. My daughter wrinkled her nose. I then asked her if she could put that into words. Nope, I'm in puberty!
After I revealed the secret, my husband said: it reminds me of an English gentlemen's club, old books, leather wingback chairs, with a glass of whisky and a glowing cigar on a mahogany table. All this by a dying fireplace with poor chimney draft.
I found that very nuanced.
One might wonder: how can something like this smell good, why would anyone want to wear it?!
The scent starts fresh for me, slightly citrusy, and right from the beginning, there is a subtle, warm, and dark sweetness that is quickly enveloped by a dark, spicy smoke. I don't perceive the leather much, but I guess I need to try harder. The smoke remains and is the only thing present in the end, softened by a faint vanilla.
This fragrance is addictive, perhaps because it lulls you in. Bees are also calmed by smoke so they don't go after the beekeeper.
Conclusion: the sample is already used up, and the fragrance must be ordered!

Since I was actually a late bloomer in a puberty sense and in other ways, I first got to know Loulou in the early 90s. Until then, I had no idea that perfumes even existed. This might be because I spent most of my childhood in the tropics and subtropics and was generally known as a bush baby. Well, then there were televisions and advertisements, which I found totally silly at the time, because who buys a product just because of the advertisement? But when Loulou floated across the screen (whom I actually remember as blonde), I was hooked by the first world with all its decadence and consumerism.
This lady expressed an elegance and youthful freshness, but only at first glance. When she then breathes out her: Oui c’est moi at the end, you know that this lady is a scandalous minx. At least, that’s how I interpreted it. The scent had to be tested and, as expected, it completely overwhelmed me. No matter, I wanted it; it reminded me of the frangipani flowers from my childhood (I know they’re not actually in there). I was familiar with this narcotic, overwhelming scent. When we went on a student exchange for three weeks in the 10th grade, my host mother gifted me this perfume (hoping I would come back and marry her son). On the Île de Ré, there was a big farewell party where, of course, we danced, and I sprayed Loulou for the first time, probably too much. In any case, I was asked to dance by a handsome, surprisingly tall French boy. At some point, he asked: tu fait embrasser? Sure, I thought, hugging is okay. But somehow I must have dozed off in French class, because I ended up with those huge lips on mine - my first thought was disgusting, and the second was, Loulou is to blame. My friend was totally jealous, so I immediately gifted the perfume away. Now I think I wasn’t ready for Loulou back then, not a seductive femme fatale. I would love to sniff it again; for the scandalous and suggestive, there are subtler scents today. I should have known: I dedicate my first comment to Loulou...