Hexana

Recently, I received a sample of Samaya from a dear perfumist. Since this scent hasn't been commented on here yet and wasn't sprayable, it languished a bit unnoticed in the sample box. I have no experience with Avon fragrances and lack any prejudices, simply because no friendly Avon consultant has ever crossed my path.

The other day before jogging, I rummaged through the samples, and Samaya caught my eye and somehow made me feel sorry for it - precisely because no one had deemed it worthy of a comment yet. I generously dabbed it on my wrists and arms. Oh dear, the top note is quite piercing! Either it's the beastly aldehydes that are scratching, or the scent has already slightly turned - I'm not much of an expert on that.

Well, while running it doesn't matter how I smell - on one hand, I'm trotting alone, and on the other hand, I’ll be showering anyway afterwards. So off into nature. As I was trotting along and clearing my head, it suddenly wafted up to my nose. A fine, soft, warm scent - slightly oriental and very pleasant. That can't possibly be the old beast, I thought, and sniffed in surprise at my wrist. The beast had actually transformed, shedding its stale aldehyde cloak and mutating into a lovely oriental princess peeking cheekily through her delicate veil of exotic spices, flowers, and balsamic resins. What a surprise - my interest was piqued. Once home, I repeated the test. And again, there was first the old beast, which initially drives everyone away. But I knew that Princess Samaya from the East only appears to the patient, so I gave her time and was not disappointed.

You can feel that the perfume is a child of the eighties of the last century. It fits into the Ispahan-opium family but is much more restrained and therefore wearable in summer. The lack of a fragrance pyramid makes it difficult for me to analyze the scent. I suspect benzoin, nutmeg, a bit of jasmine, amber, and a touch of patchouli. There’s also a hint of incense, minimalist vanilla, or tolu balsam present. Ylang-ylang could also be in there. The scent is very complex, warm, and for me, distinctly oriental. I love these spicy aromas that are so skillfully mixed that the individual components are not distinctly perceivable but enchant in their entirety.

The capricious lady from the Orient had thus conquered me. I found an original bottle at a low price on eBay, which is visually very appealing. The yellow-golden liquid shimmers through a frosted bottle and forms a beautiful contrast to the dark blue cap. I particularly like the simple design.

Samaya is a beautiful name that has several meanings, all of which fit the oriental character of the perfume. It can be an Arabic girl's name that our shy, transformed princess bears. But it can also come from Sanskrit, where it means, among other things, "one with the divine mother" or "promise." May everyone choose their own fitting meaning.

In conclusion, I recommend to anyone interested to practice patience and give the princess time. She needs it to make herself beautiful for us. Afterwards, she shines all the more beautifully!

Today I treated myself to Miss or rather Mademoiselle Piguet. At 10:00 AM, I invited the young lady, and now at 11:30 PM, she is still here. A bit pushy, this orange girl, and also somewhat outspoken. Just like young things tend to be. And quite straightforward as well. That there is something beyond the orange blossom scent is something Mademoiselle has never heard of. She loves orange blossom passionately and wants it always around her. She doesn’t really care what others think. Let the mature ladies indulge in aldehydes and benzoes... With the carefree attitude of youth, she overwhelms everything with her orange blossoms.

At first, I was still tolerant and let her go on with a mild smile. Yes, I was even temporarily quite taken with her spring-like charm. I let her chatter cheerfully all day, but now, towards the end of the evening, she is becoming bothersome. The conversations are too one-dimensional, and I long for warmth, security, and a bit more depth.

Mademoiselle - it was nice to have met you. But now I look forward to the shower and some distance.

Since I have recently developed a liking for vanilla fragrances, it was clear that I would have to check out Vaniglia e Zenzero during my Erbolario exploration. Of course, I first familiarized myself with the theoretical background by studying Seerose's comment. Her description was interesting and positive, so I was excited when I found the little bottle in the perfumery.

The first impression after spraying is as if you have just sliced or grated fresh ginger, just as Seerose describes. An intense lemony and ginger-spicy top note spreads, which is soon replaced by vanilla. I do not perceive any sharpness, however.

On the paper strip, the zesty lemony start lasts longer than on my skin. There, after the fresh ginger note fades, a somewhat musty smell emerges (patchouli?). Once this phase is over, the scent gets straight to the point without much fuss and remains very straightforward with the ingredients that its name promises. The vanilla does not present itself with sweetness; it remains bitter yet warm. This intriguing scent does not drift into the cozy territory as the fragrance develops further. Ginger and vanilla engage in an exciting duel, with no clear winner. Sometimes vanilla dominates, but it is immediately grounded again by the ginger.

In this ambivalent perception, the bipolar scent remains consistent for many hours without change.

Thanks to the good price, Vaniglia e Zenzero has found its way into my collection. I am sure I will not develop a romantic love for it, but rather a collegial and reliable friendship that supports me on those days when I am at odds with myself and the world. Then this straightforward and uncomplicated scent could be just the grounding I need.

After all the praise for L'Erbolario perfumes that I have read here, I had long wanted to embark on an extensive exploration of a L'Erbolario store. Today, I was finally able to fulfill my wish and sniff to my heart's content in a L'Erbolario shop. Unfortunately, not everything I wanted to test was available, but there was still enough to narrowly escape olfactory collapse.

Not all scents appealed to me; some were a bit too weak on the chest - especially the floral fragrances. But then the proverbial dream scent wafted in when the friendly saleswoman sprayed "Ambraliquida" on me. Wow, what is this lovely aroma that rises to my nose? A gentle scent that subtly yet purposefully seduces its wearer. It keeps coming back to mind in the most unobtrusive way. It doesn't push itself to the forefront with loud noise but knows the quality of its individual components and the creativity of the composer who managed to perfectly harmonize the fragrance instruments. The citrusy bergamot opens the concert, only to be calmed by delicate vanilla, followed by the woodwinds made of cedar and sandalwood. These dominate the composition until the end. Vanilla, completely unsweetened, is the basso continuo. I close my eyes and am simply fascinated - by the glorious fragrance music. Actually, amber is supposed to be the theme - but what is amber? I don't know how amber or Liquidambar orientalis smells. No matter, I am thrilled.

There is nothing that bothers me about this scent; its development is wonderful. It evolves excellently on both skin and clothing. For me, it is wearable at any time, even though the autumn leaves depicted on the packaging suggest a seasonal use. The longevity is also commendable. The simple, brown satin-finished bottle is pure understatement and fits perfectly with this truly noble scent.

The good reviews tempted me to order a sample of the pink "Fifi."

Yesterday, I wore it for testing. I usually don't tend to have vivid imagery with scents - but this one, inspired by Pluto's comment, conjured strange images in my mind. Right from the floral opening with lily of the valley and roses, I suddenly saw an aging lady sitting at her vanity. She is wearing a quilted pink bathrobe with a white pom-pom collar. Her feet are in white heeled slippers with a large pom-pom on top. Her dyed red hair has a wide gray-white regrowth at the part and desperately needs a touch-up. She looks tired in the mirror and tries to remember the successes of her youth when she was celebrated in the variety show as "Fifi Chachnil." Her real name is Brigitte Meyer, and she would have preferred the stage name "Cher Brischidd," but the impresario of the variety thought "Fifi Chachnil" was more fitting. Yes, those were beautiful times - back then... Sighing, she reaches for the makeup powder to generously cover the worst ravages of time. The powder scent reminds her of the fragrance in her old dressing room at the variety. She could also indulge in a cigarette; her complexion is already shot... Determined, she reaches for the lipstick and paints her lips a bright red. On the white pseudo-baroque vanity stands a round pink bottle with a fabric-covered spray atomizer. She generously sprays her favorite perfume on her neck and wrinkled décolletage, closes her eyes, and dreams of the past... Yes, this bottle + content suits her like a glove.

"Fifi Chachnil" is an intense powdery scent with a floral opening that reminds me of cheap makeup fragrances from the past. I find it intrusive and unpleasant. Just as Brigitte Meyer is completely foreign to me, so is this smell. This type of woman has nothing in common with me, which is probably why I don't like this fragrance.

Nevertheless, it is a scent that at least inspired me to vivid imagery and commentary.