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A Nightmare of Synthetic Saffron
Saffron.
Let's brainstorm. What do you think of?
The nursery rhyme? Saffron makes the cake gel...? Or are you thinking of paella?
I can think of a Pakistani student who served me a really huge amount of "saffron" a few years ago. Probably 300 grams. In a cellophane bag. "Guaranteed real saffron" from the homeland. Her words.
I wondered at first about the red color. And about the fact that no smell emanated from the bag, even after opening it. Upon closer examination, the saffron turned out to be a plastic thread mixture. Yes, you read correctly, it was plastic threads. Of course, I disposed of them correctly in the yellow bag.
A kilogram of saffron threads costs between 2,000 and 7,000 euros, depending on the quality.
100.000 blossoms have to be harvested by hand for one kilo. 90% of the worldwide production comes from Iran. There are about 150,000 people in the cultivation and harvest of saffron employed.
Why is this interesting for us in the context of a perfume review?
Well, I would like to state - once and for all - that there is almost no natural saffron in perfume production. Such a perfume would be prohibitively expensive! (And would stain extremely orange everywhere... ).
What is usually called "saffron" in perfumes is almost always synthetic. Mostly it is "Safraleine", a molecule made by Givaudan, which has been on the market since 2004. "Safranal" extracted from real saffron, has been very severely restricted by the IFRA .
Silvaine Délacourte writes about it:
"Natural saffron is not allowed in perfumery because it contains safranol, a component that causes allergies. Safraleine by Givaudan is a synthetic molecule. "
Is anyone surprised by this now? I suspect most perfume lovers know that there is no real saffron in the fragrances that smell so spicy and bitter.
Some time ago I even sent a small bag of real Iranian saffron to a Bavarian city (sorry, Hasi, that it was only such a small amount, but you know, the stuff is expensive...), because I really wanted my friend to get an idea of how "the real thing" smells.
There's no way saffron from Iran smells like the stuff advertised here for marketing purposes in the fragrance "The Glove Maker from Iran."
What kind of images go through your head?
Or what kind of BIlder should come to mind?
An oriental bazaar, preferably the one in Isfahan. In a corner of his shop sits a man with a well-cut face, his deep brown almond-shaped eyes resting on his work, a piece of tanned leather he is shaping into gloves. The scent of saffron, aromatic and incomparable, THE scent of our land, rises, for beside the man is a small bowl of Shole Sard, a saffron rice pudding....
Ah, comme je suis romantique, toi aussi, Monsieur Le Gantier?
I didn't meet a glove maker in all of Isfahan, but surely Jimmy Bodin has been there longer than I have and knows his stuff better....
When I tested the fragrance a few days ago, I was on a very unromantic mission. My daughter and I needed to get something done at the local hardware store. We are an all-female household, don't have a glovemaker or any other decent handyman up our sleeves, and have to replace defective shelves ourselves. Even on the way to the hardware store, my daughter said that we didn't have any plywood in the car yet. Why does it smell like formaldehyde and grit anyway? It was the ultra-expensive, Iranian "Gantier", which burned so in the nose. Freshly sprayed on, a real hardware store lockdown surrogate scent.
I think it's an overdose of artificial saffron. That's what it smells like. And I totally sympathize with anyone who finds saffron in perfumes gruesome most of the time. I often feel the same way. Especially when the full blast is popped in.
But on the other hand, I don't want to come across as a synthetic hater. Therefore, a little food for thought on the subject of "aromachemicals".
On 10/14/21, "The Perfume Society" published an interview with Frédéric Malle.
He commented in the context of the launch of his new fragrance "Synthetic Jungle" :
"Interesting perfumery really started at the end of the 19th century, because there were some synthetics available. Perfumery as we know it today has big doses of synthetics, and furthermore, if you want to recreate nature, you need synthetic. I love nature, it needs to be preserved, don't get me wrong, but this idea that everything from nature is great and everything from man is awful is a kind of new fascism".
Clear and definite words from Mr. Malle , especially at the end.
His new fragrance is called "Synthetic Jungle" precisely because he professes synthetic molecules. This is an honest approach.
The "Gantier d'Iran", on the other hand, deludes us into believing that he has used real saffron, which cannot be the case at all. I am extremely annoyed by this marketing ploy. But I have now probably explained enough.
Thanks to the great Gandix, which always provides me with exciting bottlings.
We talked about saffron yesterday and both came to the conclusion that "Safran Troublant" by "L'Artisan Parfumeur" is the most beautiful saffron scent we know. There we are - despite all the differences - finally completely agree.
The Iranian glove maker can really pack against "Safran Troublant"
Let's brainstorm. What do you think of?
The nursery rhyme? Saffron makes the cake gel...? Or are you thinking of paella?
I can think of a Pakistani student who served me a really huge amount of "saffron" a few years ago. Probably 300 grams. In a cellophane bag. "Guaranteed real saffron" from the homeland. Her words.
I wondered at first about the red color. And about the fact that no smell emanated from the bag, even after opening it. Upon closer examination, the saffron turned out to be a plastic thread mixture. Yes, you read correctly, it was plastic threads. Of course, I disposed of them correctly in the yellow bag.
A kilogram of saffron threads costs between 2,000 and 7,000 euros, depending on the quality.
100.000 blossoms have to be harvested by hand for one kilo. 90% of the worldwide production comes from Iran. There are about 150,000 people in the cultivation and harvest of saffron employed.
Why is this interesting for us in the context of a perfume review?
Well, I would like to state - once and for all - that there is almost no natural saffron in perfume production. Such a perfume would be prohibitively expensive! (And would stain extremely orange everywhere... ).
What is usually called "saffron" in perfumes is almost always synthetic. Mostly it is "Safraleine", a molecule made by Givaudan, which has been on the market since 2004. "Safranal" extracted from real saffron, has been very severely restricted by the IFRA .
Silvaine Délacourte writes about it:
"Natural saffron is not allowed in perfumery because it contains safranol, a component that causes allergies. Safraleine by Givaudan is a synthetic molecule. "
Is anyone surprised by this now? I suspect most perfume lovers know that there is no real saffron in the fragrances that smell so spicy and bitter.
Some time ago I even sent a small bag of real Iranian saffron to a Bavarian city (sorry, Hasi, that it was only such a small amount, but you know, the stuff is expensive...), because I really wanted my friend to get an idea of how "the real thing" smells.
There's no way saffron from Iran smells like the stuff advertised here for marketing purposes in the fragrance "The Glove Maker from Iran."
What kind of images go through your head?
Or what kind of BIlder should come to mind?
An oriental bazaar, preferably the one in Isfahan. In a corner of his shop sits a man with a well-cut face, his deep brown almond-shaped eyes resting on his work, a piece of tanned leather he is shaping into gloves. The scent of saffron, aromatic and incomparable, THE scent of our land, rises, for beside the man is a small bowl of Shole Sard, a saffron rice pudding....
Ah, comme je suis romantique, toi aussi, Monsieur Le Gantier?
I didn't meet a glove maker in all of Isfahan, but surely Jimmy Bodin has been there longer than I have and knows his stuff better....
When I tested the fragrance a few days ago, I was on a very unromantic mission. My daughter and I needed to get something done at the local hardware store. We are an all-female household, don't have a glovemaker or any other decent handyman up our sleeves, and have to replace defective shelves ourselves. Even on the way to the hardware store, my daughter said that we didn't have any plywood in the car yet. Why does it smell like formaldehyde and grit anyway? It was the ultra-expensive, Iranian "Gantier", which burned so in the nose. Freshly sprayed on, a real hardware store lockdown surrogate scent.
I think it's an overdose of artificial saffron. That's what it smells like. And I totally sympathize with anyone who finds saffron in perfumes gruesome most of the time. I often feel the same way. Especially when the full blast is popped in.
But on the other hand, I don't want to come across as a synthetic hater. Therefore, a little food for thought on the subject of "aromachemicals".
On 10/14/21, "The Perfume Society" published an interview with Frédéric Malle.
He commented in the context of the launch of his new fragrance "Synthetic Jungle" :
"Interesting perfumery really started at the end of the 19th century, because there were some synthetics available. Perfumery as we know it today has big doses of synthetics, and furthermore, if you want to recreate nature, you need synthetic. I love nature, it needs to be preserved, don't get me wrong, but this idea that everything from nature is great and everything from man is awful is a kind of new fascism".
Clear and definite words from Mr. Malle , especially at the end.
His new fragrance is called "Synthetic Jungle" precisely because he professes synthetic molecules. This is an honest approach.
The "Gantier d'Iran", on the other hand, deludes us into believing that he has used real saffron, which cannot be the case at all. I am extremely annoyed by this marketing ploy. But I have now probably explained enough.
Thanks to the great Gandix, which always provides me with exciting bottlings.
We talked about saffron yesterday and both came to the conclusion that "Safran Troublant" by "L'Artisan Parfumeur" is the most beautiful saffron scent we know. There we are - despite all the differences - finally completely agree.
The Iranian glove maker can really pack against "Safran Troublant"
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Vol de vie
I have a disturbed day and night rhythm - and probably that's because of you
You had to choose "Vol de Nuit" in this little perfumery in Adelaide. I was already in your belly at the time, about five days old, and I remember that whoosh.... splash....
this brilliant start that the scent made. Glistening aldehydes like the sky over Broken Hill when nuggets of gold are smoldering somewhere on the horizon.
Your credit card was glowing when you bought "Vol de Nuit" because it was expensive fun back then, you wanted the extrait and the eau de toilette together right away.
Grandpa was born in 1933 and he came to Germany on an Air France plane. All the more reason for you to like Vol de Nuit. St. Exupéry never interested you much, you had too much else to read during your studies and "Le petit prince" was touching, but then not as earth-shattering as Sartre.
Galbanum, on the other hand, remains a constant for you. It comes from Iran and only a year ago you realized that you must have seen this plant in the mountains around Karaj during a hike, without realizing it.
We always perceive only a fraction of what surrounds us anyway. After all, I could only smell, feel, taste and hear you for nine months, but not see you.
You and my dad went on to Melbourne and I remember it being incredibly hot there. 45 degrees in a motel. and you were spraying "Vol de Nuit".
It's cooling at the beginning, the galbanum, the aldehydes. Then flowers come in, very light, small, tamed flowers, apprivoisées, like in "Petit Prince".
Iris does stand out, but only if you know it, have never met it before, so it acts like stardust and descends on your skin, calm, gentle, soothing.
Now "Vol de Nuit" is like the color purple, deep and mysterious, meditative. Little yellow speckles of narcissus appear, but they don't disturb the picture, they add a little disruptive note. Why not, no one is just quiet, otherwise she or he would be a Buddha.
Then the day of my birth 20 years ago, you had thought long and hard about what fragrance you could wear around the birth date to greet me.... of course you chose "Vol de Nuit", because with this perfume everything started for me, even before I saw the light of day, and then when I was in your arms, at your breast and drank mother's milk for the first time, I felt a very small hint of vanilla, maybe on your skin, maybe on your hair, which touched me gently. You hadn't put on extra perfume for the birth itself, because you wanted everything to go as naturally as possible, but your body had probably already mixed the smell of "Vol de Nuit" with its own juices.
Over the past few years, "Vol de Nuit" has changed, but so have you. Your life has become a lot lighter, just like the scent, which as an eau de toilette always flew by very quickly and now seems even more vol-atile than before.
Sometimes, when I hug you, I feel an elegant hint of oakmoss, vanilla and sandalwood, very delicate and yet so memorable.
Unfortunately, you don't wear "Vol de Nuit" as often as I would like, you experiment around with some fragrances without stopping.... and then you tell something about "Parfumo", horizon expansion and your hobby.
We all in the family have understanding for it, but we wish ourselves more constancy, a signature scent like "Vol de Nuit" , to which we can hold on again and again, make sure, remember us...
especially I, who was conceived thousands of miles away on another continent and returned to Frankfurt together with you on a night flight, and who feels this longing inside me...
for arriving, for returning, for a mother who strokes my cheek with a gentle hand when I lose myself, whispering, "Everything will be all right."
You had to choose "Vol de Nuit" in this little perfumery in Adelaide. I was already in your belly at the time, about five days old, and I remember that whoosh.... splash....
this brilliant start that the scent made. Glistening aldehydes like the sky over Broken Hill when nuggets of gold are smoldering somewhere on the horizon.
Your credit card was glowing when you bought "Vol de Nuit" because it was expensive fun back then, you wanted the extrait and the eau de toilette together right away.
Grandpa was born in 1933 and he came to Germany on an Air France plane. All the more reason for you to like Vol de Nuit. St. Exupéry never interested you much, you had too much else to read during your studies and "Le petit prince" was touching, but then not as earth-shattering as Sartre.
Galbanum, on the other hand, remains a constant for you. It comes from Iran and only a year ago you realized that you must have seen this plant in the mountains around Karaj during a hike, without realizing it.
We always perceive only a fraction of what surrounds us anyway. After all, I could only smell, feel, taste and hear you for nine months, but not see you.
You and my dad went on to Melbourne and I remember it being incredibly hot there. 45 degrees in a motel. and you were spraying "Vol de Nuit".
It's cooling at the beginning, the galbanum, the aldehydes. Then flowers come in, very light, small, tamed flowers, apprivoisées, like in "Petit Prince".
Iris does stand out, but only if you know it, have never met it before, so it acts like stardust and descends on your skin, calm, gentle, soothing.
Now "Vol de Nuit" is like the color purple, deep and mysterious, meditative. Little yellow speckles of narcissus appear, but they don't disturb the picture, they add a little disruptive note. Why not, no one is just quiet, otherwise she or he would be a Buddha.
Then the day of my birth 20 years ago, you had thought long and hard about what fragrance you could wear around the birth date to greet me.... of course you chose "Vol de Nuit", because with this perfume everything started for me, even before I saw the light of day, and then when I was in your arms, at your breast and drank mother's milk for the first time, I felt a very small hint of vanilla, maybe on your skin, maybe on your hair, which touched me gently. You hadn't put on extra perfume for the birth itself, because you wanted everything to go as naturally as possible, but your body had probably already mixed the smell of "Vol de Nuit" with its own juices.
Over the past few years, "Vol de Nuit" has changed, but so have you. Your life has become a lot lighter, just like the scent, which as an eau de toilette always flew by very quickly and now seems even more vol-atile than before.
Sometimes, when I hug you, I feel an elegant hint of oakmoss, vanilla and sandalwood, very delicate and yet so memorable.
Unfortunately, you don't wear "Vol de Nuit" as often as I would like, you experiment around with some fragrances without stopping.... and then you tell something about "Parfumo", horizon expansion and your hobby.
We all in the family have understanding for it, but we wish ourselves more constancy, a signature scent like "Vol de Nuit" , to which we can hold on again and again, make sure, remember us...
especially I, who was conceived thousands of miles away on another continent and returned to Frankfurt together with you on a night flight, and who feels this longing inside me...
for arriving, for returning, for a mother who strokes my cheek with a gentle hand when I lose myself, whispering, "Everything will be all right."
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Preliminary exercises for a new podcast
"Dennis, what is a scandal for you?"
"Ask me something... yesterday I read that Coke Zero is not healthy... artificial sweetener can damage the liver and pancreas... but well, 'nen real scandal... that goes differently."
"Mia-Chanty, what do you think?"
"Sea rescue."
"Nah, don't get political now! We want to do a podcast about a new perfume, guys. You want to put Jeremy to shame!"
"Power! Sex! Yeah! I wanna tongue-kiss a beautiful woman!"
"That's right, Dennis, that's what he would say."
"He'd say, 'Hey, guys, this stuff smells incredible... it's such a... wow... panty-dropper.
I'm smelling candy, I'm smelling sugar, I'm smelling tonka bean... oh yeah.... you know I look better in my videos after having had sex... but... well... yeah... this one... get it, guys, get it. Seduction in a bottle."
Whew.
" What about gender stereotypes, anyway? "
"Mia, what do you think?"
"Well, doesn't it perfectly dissolve the very stereotypes we decry? The scent is sweet, it deliberately defies categorization.... - could that be the scandal?"
"Maybe in the advertising industry, directing its message at people who haven't taken a seminar in gender theory and still feel hip in 2021 wearing an ultra-sweet fragrance as a man.... so 1991... if you ask me...".
"Hasn't the Gaultier been banging out fragrances like this a lot?"
"Yes, he has. He also put 'n man in a full bathtub of roses and created a fragrance to go with it that referenced Baudelaire and even dared to make a pun...".
"Dennis, since when do you know something like that? You didn't get that from Jeremy...".
"Nah, I picked that up from some Intis in a chat on Parfumo somewhere."
"Quentin Biesch stands for super-modern fragrances. He himself is not even 40 and is considered the prodigy of the industry. He's just done a good job on the brief... a penetrating fragrance that ties in with familiar, which partly picks up the ingredients of the eponymous Gaultier - women's fragrance and which becomes slightly spicy in the base...".
"Does anyone smell ambroxan?"
"Yes, icke... but very subtly."
"You know about that, Dennis."
"Yes, two years internship in Holzminden..."
"Who would you recommend Scandal to?"
"To everyone who likes a sweet, caramel almond simpley scent that gets a little spicier in the base. To everyone who isn't too embarrassed by the bottle...."
"Yes, it looks mega-prollig."
"Mia, now that's not politically correct....".
"I think that thing is creepy."
"And the boy with it? In the commercial?"
"It's just the target audience. Definitely better looking than Jeremy, though...".
And on that, now a triple "Power, yeah! Sugar, yeah! I wanna have...?"
Yeah, what is it?
A pacifier.
"Ask me something... yesterday I read that Coke Zero is not healthy... artificial sweetener can damage the liver and pancreas... but well, 'nen real scandal... that goes differently."
"Mia-Chanty, what do you think?"
"Sea rescue."
"Nah, don't get political now! We want to do a podcast about a new perfume, guys. You want to put Jeremy to shame!"
"Power! Sex! Yeah! I wanna tongue-kiss a beautiful woman!"
"That's right, Dennis, that's what he would say."
"He'd say, 'Hey, guys, this stuff smells incredible... it's such a... wow... panty-dropper.
I'm smelling candy, I'm smelling sugar, I'm smelling tonka bean... oh yeah.... you know I look better in my videos after having had sex... but... well... yeah... this one... get it, guys, get it. Seduction in a bottle."
Whew.
" What about gender stereotypes, anyway? "
"Mia, what do you think?"
"Well, doesn't it perfectly dissolve the very stereotypes we decry? The scent is sweet, it deliberately defies categorization.... - could that be the scandal?"
"Maybe in the advertising industry, directing its message at people who haven't taken a seminar in gender theory and still feel hip in 2021 wearing an ultra-sweet fragrance as a man.... so 1991... if you ask me...".
"Hasn't the Gaultier been banging out fragrances like this a lot?"
"Yes, he has. He also put 'n man in a full bathtub of roses and created a fragrance to go with it that referenced Baudelaire and even dared to make a pun...".
"Dennis, since when do you know something like that? You didn't get that from Jeremy...".
"Nah, I picked that up from some Intis in a chat on Parfumo somewhere."
"Quentin Biesch stands for super-modern fragrances. He himself is not even 40 and is considered the prodigy of the industry. He's just done a good job on the brief... a penetrating fragrance that ties in with familiar, which partly picks up the ingredients of the eponymous Gaultier - women's fragrance and which becomes slightly spicy in the base...".
"Does anyone smell ambroxan?"
"Yes, icke... but very subtly."
"You know about that, Dennis."
"Yes, two years internship in Holzminden..."
"Who would you recommend Scandal to?"
"To everyone who likes a sweet, caramel almond simpley scent that gets a little spicier in the base. To everyone who isn't too embarrassed by the bottle...."
"Yes, it looks mega-prollig."
"Mia, now that's not politically correct....".
"I think that thing is creepy."
"And the boy with it? In the commercial?"
"It's just the target audience. Definitely better looking than Jeremy, though...".
And on that, now a triple "Power, yeah! Sugar, yeah! I wanna have...?"
Yeah, what is it?
A pacifier.
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Cardamom Love
11 letters - my declaration of love for "Déclaration"
D - permanent burners
E - Deceleration
C - Character
L - Labsal
A - Time out
R - Wanderlust
A - All-rounder
T - dream setting
I - pause
O - unparalleled
N - nest warmth
At the heart of the creation:
Elettaria Cardamomum !
Originates from India, but is now also grown in Guatemala, where 350,000 families live from the cultivation of the green capsules. Guatemala is now the world's largest producer of cardamom.
5% of the country's cardamom harvest is used to make perfume. Firmenich in particular uses green cardamom from Guatemala in its creations.
It differs from the Indian product mainly by its content of aromas reminiscent of eucalyptus. Perfumer Oliver Cresp, for example, describes cardamom from Guatemala as fresher than its Indian sister.
I probably wouldn't be able to smell out the differences between Indian and South American cardamom, especially since there are hardly any scents on the market that use cardamom as the only ingredient.
Cardamom, by the way, belongs to the same botanical family as corkuma and ginger, but is much more expensive than the two and is third in price among spices after saffron and vanilla. To produce an essential oil, cardamom is distilled with steam.
Its smell is spicy-fresh, very aromatic, with a slight hint of eucalyptus and rosemary, some peppery and citrus notes are also present.
There are many uses for cardamom in aromatherapy. It has a stimulating effect, so it is also very popular in Ayuverdic medicine. Unlike ginger, cardamom has rather a cooling effect, strengthens when feeling weak and has a positive effect on the respiratory tract.
In modern perfumery, it is especially Jean-Claude Ellena, who appreciates cardamom very much and always incorporates in his works. Both in his legendary fragrance "Eau parfumée au thé vert" and in "Déclaration", the fragrance we are mainly concerned with here, cardamom is included, furthermore in "Voyage d'Hermes", a fragrance very similar to "Déclaration".
(Well-known cardamom fragrances by other perfumers include "Juniper Sling" by Penhaligon's, "Kenzo Jungle", "1969" by Histoires de Parfums, "Dzongkha" by L'Artisan Parfumeur, or Vangelis by Sylvaine Delacourte)
"Déclaration" I declare today my favorite cardamom fragrance!
"Created for men, but also enjoyed by women" - this was an advertising slogan for this extraordinary eau de toilette in 1998.
What is so ingenious about him, what distinguishes him? Is it the special combination of contrasts? The fragrance opens with cumin, a spice that is perceived by many as sweaty, but here in combination with citrus on me this effect does not have. Bitter lemon and orange, a green mugwort note (artemisia) follow, paving the way for cardamom, the fragrance's "big player". "Déclaration" offers a perfect harmony of woods and spices, is a modern classic, smells fresh and sensual at the same time.
A disciple of the great Roudniskas, Ellena wanted to create an eau de toilette that would follow in the footsteps of the great creations of his role model, especially the legendary Eau d'Hermes.
There are all sorts of flankers of "Déclaration", even a perfume. I can only recommend to get the first Eau de Toilette. The other versions are nowhere near as fresh and well balanced. In the perfume (composed by Mathilde Laurent in 2018), a fair amount of ambroxan bothers me. "Déclaration d'un Soir Intense" I don't like much either, too synthetic and scratchy.
Whether Ellena has used for his Eau de Toilette cardamom from Guatemala or from India, I do not know, by the way. But is also not so important.
I only used the info block about cardamom to not look quite so stupid this year.... after nine years of Parfumo.
Could have philosophized about how "Déclaration" works on men's skin, of course, but I can't judge whether "Déclaration" would be a cool "panty dropper". I'm not a cool influencer, after all.
Je parle avec le coeur
D - permanent burners
E - Deceleration
C - Character
L - Labsal
A - Time out
R - Wanderlust
A - All-rounder
T - dream setting
I - pause
O - unparalleled
N - nest warmth
At the heart of the creation:
Elettaria Cardamomum !
Originates from India, but is now also grown in Guatemala, where 350,000 families live from the cultivation of the green capsules. Guatemala is now the world's largest producer of cardamom.
5% of the country's cardamom harvest is used to make perfume. Firmenich in particular uses green cardamom from Guatemala in its creations.
It differs from the Indian product mainly by its content of aromas reminiscent of eucalyptus. Perfumer Oliver Cresp, for example, describes cardamom from Guatemala as fresher than its Indian sister.
I probably wouldn't be able to smell out the differences between Indian and South American cardamom, especially since there are hardly any scents on the market that use cardamom as the only ingredient.
Cardamom, by the way, belongs to the same botanical family as corkuma and ginger, but is much more expensive than the two and is third in price among spices after saffron and vanilla. To produce an essential oil, cardamom is distilled with steam.
Its smell is spicy-fresh, very aromatic, with a slight hint of eucalyptus and rosemary, some peppery and citrus notes are also present.
There are many uses for cardamom in aromatherapy. It has a stimulating effect, so it is also very popular in Ayuverdic medicine. Unlike ginger, cardamom has rather a cooling effect, strengthens when feeling weak and has a positive effect on the respiratory tract.
In modern perfumery, it is especially Jean-Claude Ellena, who appreciates cardamom very much and always incorporates in his works. Both in his legendary fragrance "Eau parfumée au thé vert" and in "Déclaration", the fragrance we are mainly concerned with here, cardamom is included, furthermore in "Voyage d'Hermes", a fragrance very similar to "Déclaration".
(Well-known cardamom fragrances by other perfumers include "Juniper Sling" by Penhaligon's, "Kenzo Jungle", "1969" by Histoires de Parfums, "Dzongkha" by L'Artisan Parfumeur, or Vangelis by Sylvaine Delacourte)
"Déclaration" I declare today my favorite cardamom fragrance!
"Created for men, but also enjoyed by women" - this was an advertising slogan for this extraordinary eau de toilette in 1998.
What is so ingenious about him, what distinguishes him? Is it the special combination of contrasts? The fragrance opens with cumin, a spice that is perceived by many as sweaty, but here in combination with citrus on me this effect does not have. Bitter lemon and orange, a green mugwort note (artemisia) follow, paving the way for cardamom, the fragrance's "big player". "Déclaration" offers a perfect harmony of woods and spices, is a modern classic, smells fresh and sensual at the same time.
A disciple of the great Roudniskas, Ellena wanted to create an eau de toilette that would follow in the footsteps of the great creations of his role model, especially the legendary Eau d'Hermes.
There are all sorts of flankers of "Déclaration", even a perfume. I can only recommend to get the first Eau de Toilette. The other versions are nowhere near as fresh and well balanced. In the perfume (composed by Mathilde Laurent in 2018), a fair amount of ambroxan bothers me. "Déclaration d'un Soir Intense" I don't like much either, too synthetic and scratchy.
Whether Ellena has used for his Eau de Toilette cardamom from Guatemala or from India, I do not know, by the way. But is also not so important.
I only used the info block about cardamom to not look quite so stupid this year.... after nine years of Parfumo.
Could have philosophized about how "Déclaration" works on men's skin, of course, but I can't judge whether "Déclaration" would be a cool "panty dropper". I'm not a cool influencer, after all.
Je parle avec le coeur
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Ambroxi perversion
The brand Tesori d'Oriente, leader in Italy in the field of body care, has already delighted us with many favorable fragrances. "Africa", "Byzantinum", "Royal Oud dello Yemen", "Fior di Loto", "Ayurveda"... the list is long, containing over 20 different product lines.
"Muschio Bianco" sells the best. There is fabric softener, scented candle, bath foam, deodorant spray, hand cream, bar soap etc. in the popular series and of course last but not least the well-known baby powdery eau de toilette, which has a more than reasonable price and has made one or the other become a fan over the years.
I have also already bought and used some fragrances of Tesori d'Oriente, so far I was satisfied and usually even pleasantly surprised by my blind purchases.
So it was obvious that I had to get me also "Persian Dream" in the house.
Well.
Now take a deep breath and take a break.
Don't get excited, I tell myself, don't get excited.
What's in a name?
Marketing. Marketing. Marketing.
"A strange people the Persians,
have many interesting diversions.
Make love in the day
the usual way -
thus leaving the night for
perversions."
A limerick.
I had to read that one out loud in front of 20 other students in my 1st semester, "because you will find this amusing, my dear," the professor said.
No. I was not amused.
As I smelled the lovelessly slapped-together "Persian Dream," the perverted limerick came back to me.
The scent is fruity to begin with. Starts with an artificial pomegranate note.
Yes, there are a lot of pomegranates eaten in Iran. And one of the most famous dishes is called "Fessenjoon", chicken or duck in walnut-pomegranate - sauce, admittedly, a poem.
The slight acidity of the pomegranate does not get the Tesori - product, however. At this point, my daughter (family tester K. - expression stolen from Stanze, which houses a family tester M.) and I were incidentally still willing to let the scent pass as a shower gel simulator or as a loo spray.
But then follows simply Ambroxan. In a very high concentration. And this me unfortunately not at all sympathetic chemical club has come to stay.
For hours, nothing does.
Only Ambroxan. Stays.
During this time, one could dream of Esfahan, one of the most beautiful cities in the world. One could imagine people from all nations celebrating together at the Golestan Palace in Tehran the liberation of the country from an oppressive regime that has kept Iranians* in bondage since 1979.
One could say as much...
Even mothballs would have been more to my liking in "Persian Dream" than Ambroxan.
After all, our Persian carpets used to smell like this stuff, is it called Naphtaline?
Two days after spraying in the toilet area, "Persian Dream" is still present.
For under five euros, a remarkable performance, brother.
Still, we didn't leave the bottle there.... on the toilet. There are far less caustic ways to drown out certain smells.
Windows up!
And as for the "Persian Dream"... just save me from the perversion, dear Persian.
Yours faithfully,
Your morning dewdrop
"Muschio Bianco" sells the best. There is fabric softener, scented candle, bath foam, deodorant spray, hand cream, bar soap etc. in the popular series and of course last but not least the well-known baby powdery eau de toilette, which has a more than reasonable price and has made one or the other become a fan over the years.
I have also already bought and used some fragrances of Tesori d'Oriente, so far I was satisfied and usually even pleasantly surprised by my blind purchases.
So it was obvious that I had to get me also "Persian Dream" in the house.
Well.
Now take a deep breath and take a break.
Don't get excited, I tell myself, don't get excited.
What's in a name?
Marketing. Marketing. Marketing.
"A strange people the Persians,
have many interesting diversions.
Make love in the day
the usual way -
thus leaving the night for
perversions."
A limerick.
I had to read that one out loud in front of 20 other students in my 1st semester, "because you will find this amusing, my dear," the professor said.
No. I was not amused.
As I smelled the lovelessly slapped-together "Persian Dream," the perverted limerick came back to me.
The scent is fruity to begin with. Starts with an artificial pomegranate note.
Yes, there are a lot of pomegranates eaten in Iran. And one of the most famous dishes is called "Fessenjoon", chicken or duck in walnut-pomegranate - sauce, admittedly, a poem.
The slight acidity of the pomegranate does not get the Tesori - product, however. At this point, my daughter (family tester K. - expression stolen from Stanze, which houses a family tester M.) and I were incidentally still willing to let the scent pass as a shower gel simulator or as a loo spray.
But then follows simply Ambroxan. In a very high concentration. And this me unfortunately not at all sympathetic chemical club has come to stay.
For hours, nothing does.
Only Ambroxan. Stays.
During this time, one could dream of Esfahan, one of the most beautiful cities in the world. One could imagine people from all nations celebrating together at the Golestan Palace in Tehran the liberation of the country from an oppressive regime that has kept Iranians* in bondage since 1979.
One could say as much...
Even mothballs would have been more to my liking in "Persian Dream" than Ambroxan.
After all, our Persian carpets used to smell like this stuff, is it called Naphtaline?
Two days after spraying in the toilet area, "Persian Dream" is still present.
For under five euros, a remarkable performance, brother.
Still, we didn't leave the bottle there.... on the toilet. There are far less caustic ways to drown out certain smells.
Windows up!
And as for the "Persian Dream"... just save me from the perversion, dear Persian.
Yours faithfully,
Your morning dewdrop
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