Jazzbob

The association of colors to fragrances actually always happens automatically, because one logically perceives his environment with different senses at the same time and thus creates many links. With Hiram Green's Vetiver arises with me inwardly also so a concrete image, to which the color of the perfume fits perfectly.

The summer is coming to an end. The long, sunny days have dried out the ground. The air is still very warm, but there is a light breeze that carries with it the smell of hay. The landscape glows a golden yellow and the world seems to turn slower here in the evening hours.

So this fragrance is summery not because it's particularly refreshing, as the top notes might have suggested, but because of the bright warmth it exudes. As with Profumum Roma's Acqua Viva, the citrus notes (really just lemon for me here) aren't really fresh, but instead form a close symbiosis with the woody notes - except that they're much more subtle here. The ginger was also robbed of some of its sharpness, which for me is a bit of a shame, but others might like it, because sometimes fragrances seem too harsh by this note. Vetiver is the main note from beginning to end and shows itself very natural, a little green and especially woody and a little earthy. So you might think that the respective extremes of Haitian vetiver (grassy-green, with accents that can sometimes remind you of grapefruit) and Java vetiver (more earthy and with smoky facets) have been toned down and meet in the middle.

After all, the brand advertises using only natural raw materials and so I can easily recognize the base notes. While cedar wood further enhances the dryness and woodiness, ambrette seeds add an almost powdery side for me, which makes the fragrance seem a bit softer. I wouldn't really call it sweet - if anything, it's minimal. On my skin, by the way, this note comes through less than on paper. Fortunately...

As befits a decent vetiver perfume, Hiram Green's creation lasts quite a long time on the skin, but gets a bit more intimate relatively quickly. But it is also rather a soothing fragrance to feel good and wallow in thoughts.

In such hot temperatures of over 30 degrees, as this weekend, classic citrus fragrances are the best olfactory refreshment. Who now expects exactly this with the name Rêverie de Bergamote (Bergamot Dreaming) and the yellow bottle, might be quite disappointed, because the new fragrance by Miller Harris does not manage that. But while with some perfumes the stated fragrance notes are rather misleading, I find them here - with small exceptions - quite coherent.

The bergamot is present here right at the beginning in a juicy-sour form, but immediately it becomes clear that a fairly classic fougère accord has also been incorporated: Lavender contributes an aromatic and subtly powdery side and the woody-mossy base provides a tart and stereotypically masculine foundation. There is, thankfully, an almost complete lack of the usual coumarin sweetness here - at least it is only slightly perceptible. The green notes are just accessories for me and I can't make out leather at all. The latter I would also not have felt as fitting to it.

Thus, Rêverie de Bergamote is overall pretty quickly characterized by a warm-spicy-woody melange and has thereby perhaps also something dreamy about it. Definitely, it is in my opinion classic and natural held and seems rather mature, but not old-fashioned. Anyway, the slightly soapy impact of the fougère accord doesn't particularly stand out here. And while the fragrance initially even projects quite strongly, it becomes softer and quieter with time, but is perceptible long enough.

As a typical summer fragrance, I would therefore not classify him, but as best suited for spring and autumn, but he is absolutely wearable all year round, because he does not become cloyingly sultry at high temperatures and conveys enough warmth to find use even in winter.

... are also a symbol of freedom and the spirit of discovery. Not only the scent of the fresh sea air sells well, but also the idea of the associated attitude to life. Paolo Terenzi seems to be a real jack-of-all-trades (have I ever used this word in my life?), because he creates new fragrances for Tiziana Terenzi, V Canto and Giardino Benessere, which are sometimes described in a rather extravagant way. At Oceania it is, in any case, among other things:

"[...] enriched by the exclusive Terenzi Library molecule known as Oxygen. When sprayed into the air, this innovative and unique molecule triggers an incredible effervescent and refreshing effect."
(Source: https://www.cereriaterenzishop.com/en/product/oceania/)

So we can all consider ourselves lucky to be able to breathe in such an exclusive molecule (O2) every day...

I must confess, however, that the top note - for me a 10/10 - actually has something of a cool sea breeze. It is here skillfully and rather airy-aquatic, than salty maritime staged and initially especially connected with the citrus and fruity notes. It's not only refreshing, but also puts you in a good mood. (Some pure niche snobs might describe it as too designer, though) There is a hint of cardamom and lavender in the background, but everything is subtly interwoven here - just airy - so nothing really stands out strongly. The disappointment follows for me in the drydown, because this can not keep up with the great opening - this seems a little too pale and especially musky-clean and only very slightly woody. To recognize oud here, you need quite, quite, quite a lot of imagination...

For such a perfume, the shelf life is quite decent, although I get with Oceania quickly the feeling to wear only a skin fragrance, while me but still a diffuse freshness blows around. Oceania is an uncomplicated fragrance, absolutely unisex and versatile, but I experience here the same dilemma as with so many summer fragrances, that after the fading of the fresh top notes, often only a rather bland base accord remains (keyword: top note blender). At a price of two euros per milliliter, however, this is too little for me to trigger a buying impulse. Paolo Terenzi could have invested a little more spirit of discovery here.

Blue perfumes are usually associated with shower gel - at least when the notes promise a certain freshness. However, I would not classify Blue Gin in this genre, because the fragrance is less fresh than expected and because the inspiration for the name comes not from typical blue fragrances, but from jeans. So the blue is found more in the texture of Alberto Morillas' creation, which I consider to be quite successful - provided you don't expect a really fresh perfume like I did. In general, Mizensir seems to have launched some solid fragrances, with the perfumer making proper use of fragrances from Firmenich, where he has been employed since 1970. So this form of transparency could also be seen as a kind of self-promotion for the product range.

Blue Gin lives up to its name right from the start, because the juniper berry, which is the essential ingredient of gin, is immediately recognizable. Cardamom also joins quite clearly, but tangerine and Aquatik (Cascalone) hold back very much. This is a pity, because more freshness would have done the fragrance good. In the air, then, it smells quite authentically of gin for the first few minutes, but after only about ten to fifteen minutes a minimal tonka sweetness can be sensed, while two other facets that are perceptible from the start are further enhanced: Cetalox provides an ambroxan-like warmth and Irone a powderiness typical of iris (root). It is this combination together with the light, peppery pungency that provides the very texture that feels like that of a denim.

Since the keyword 'Ambroxan' has fallen, I would like to point out that Blue Gin in no way goes in the direction of sweeter perfumes, such as Dior Sauvage or Versace Dylan Blue, but Cetalox has a tart undertone and almost animalic. In any case, it seems to me that there is still a very subtle dirty note. This I perceive but only immediately on the skin - otherwise Blue Gin sounds rather warm, powdery and clean-musky from.

The overall rather tart orientation and the, in my opinion, quite special connection of the individual components makes the fragrance already quite interesting, but the big drawback remains the almost complete lack of freshness. And just this yet quite strong powdery-warm melange can be quickly annoying just at warmer temperatures.

The brand Amouage has it somehow with flowery language:

"Boundless is a burst of joy, a fleeting euphoria that translates the vertical tension that drives those who want to hold the immensity of the world in their hands. This glowing and vibrant energy is reminiscent of sunlight reflecting off the dewy leaves of the jungle, flickering in rays through a flower-strewn canopy and grazing rainbow-colored trees before losing itself in gnarled and mist-shrouded branches. [...]"

(https://www.amouage.com/amouage-boundless)

I'm always torn about phrases like this, because on the one hand it's perfectly understandable that any kind of creative work - whether in the visual arts, music, movies, or perfumes - is based on specific impressions and feelings, but on the other hand it equally creates something mystifying - as if craftsmanship, certain experiences, or pure trial and error didn't make up the bulk of this work.

Boundless is definitely a fragrance that strikes me as very natural and quite well thought out. I always associate colours with perfumes too, and feel that those of the bottle are very appropriate, as it is a rather autumnal scent. At the same time, it has bright qualities which I would not have expected in this form. The opening is only briefly orangy; I find the particular spiciness of cardamom and some of the freshness/spiciness of ginger to be more prominent. But by far the most dominant notes for me are tobacco and vanilla, though I would have initially thought more of tonka bean here. I'm not a huge tobacco fan, but this is an exciting note in itself, combining warm, aromatic facets with a honeyed sweetness that comes from the maceration of the tobacco leaf. The woody, balsamic notes are more supportive, yet somehow noticeably present. I can't really filter out frankincense and oakmoss though - more like the lighter myrrh - as the scent seems too soft for that. I also don't feel reminded of cocoa. The dense texture of Boundless also hardly allows to clearly separate the base notes from each other.

Overall, I feel the fragrance already as complex and harmonious, but as so often, the sweetness is ultimately too much for me and you should already like tobacco to be able to wear the fragrance. A stronger contrast by the woody notes or incense would have done Boundless certainly good.