Kleannor

I believe it was the name Francis Kurkdjian that made me realize for the first time that behind the scents and their houses are also creative noses. Like so many other perfume lovers, I began my fragrance journey many years ago with the two well-known mainstream perfumeries. After a long period of disinterest in scents, my revival began with Kurkdjian's Le Male, which I - I don't even want to say it - actually discovered years after its release. Until then, I had no idea that Le Male was so successful, so often used, and therefore also despised. However, without this knowledge, I found the scent great; and for the first time, I began to take an interest in perfumers. I followed Kurkdjian's trail, but was initially disappointed, as some highly praised fragrances like Masculin Pluriel or Lumiere Noire let me down in every respect.
Only Baccarat Rouge showed me how brilliant Kurkdjian is: to create a scent from so few ingredients that is so distinctive, so harmonious, so delightful!!! What an art to produce such a fruity scent (for me, BR actually smells like orange) without any fruits! So far, I have not encountered any fragrance in my (still modest) collection that is so fresh yet at the same time so warm.
All in all, Baccarat Rouge is a fragrance I never want to be without.

“Wow, what is this?! Amazing thing! It could become my signature scent.” - These were probably my first impressions when I introduced myself to Byredo's Oud Immortel (the addition from my favorite fragrance house). It is certainly an extraordinary scent. However, it is rare for me that an overwhelming beginning turns so completely into its opposite.

The start features an almost brutal artificial fruitiness (the Limoncello?), perhaps pushed along by the patchouli, although the papyrus is highlighted in the fragrance pyramid. (But I have no idea what papyrus smells like.)

In any case, this beginning and this fruitiness remain present in the following hours. It reminds me a bit of the “scent progression” in the ripening process of a mango. I love mango, but when it is overripe, the smell is almost unbearable in its intensity.

Aside from this fruitiness, Oud Immortel ultimately offers little; it leaves the impression of a very loud, one-dimensional fragrance that knows no development. I probably won’t wear the scent anymore and will only keep it for “study purposes,” because - as I said - it is indeed interesting.

That fragrances can be like this!

I haven't been in the world of scents for very long. Designer fragrances were all I knew. However, through my intense engagement with the art of scent over the past six months, I have come across so many fragrances and names. Among them is the house of Lutens.

I still remember that six months ago, during my first encounter with Ambre Sultan in a perfume shop, I wrinkled my nose at it, yet I was constantly drawn to that little magical paper strip. Now, after I was able to acquire a small bottle, the warm spiciness of this fragrance envelops and fulfills me. I'm not yet at the point where I can pick out individual ingredients: But just looking forward to a fragrance in the evening that you can spray on in the morning is pure happiness.

And there is still so much to smell. Where might my nose lead me?

I caught it almost "in flagrante." By chance, I read the descriptions of this fragrance and watched YouTube videos. That's how I came to Parfumo, got to know the Souk, and ordered a 10ml TZ out of curiosity. (A heartfelt thanks to Greeni07 for the wonderful deliveries multiple times!)
Then the revelation: What a striking, unmistakable scent that made the sun rise even in the depths of winter, catapulting me to the beach and into a lounge chair! It doesn't smell like the sea, but it suggests the sea. No matter where you are. The ideal fragrance for summer, but also one to survive winter. I was so taken with it right away that I had to have more. After some searching, I found it online as well.
I read that many dislike the bottle because it doesn't stand up, but I found the maritime aspect that this fragrance offers well represented in this spray shell.
Out of excitement, I, of course, overdosed at first. You have to be careful: Sillage and projection are quite pronounced; AA can quickly become intrusive. It's better to reapply occasionally, although that's not really necessary, as the longevity is surprisingly good.

I have thought long about which fragrance to write my first comment on after the initial months of rather passive belonging to the community. I believe I have found a worthy entry with L'Air du Desert Marocain.

For months, I have observed, partly with slight concern, how the addiction to fragrances has grown ever larger. The concern comes from the fact that, as a musician, music has been my only real addiction until now. However, my engagement with fragrances has been so intense for the past six months that I felt something like infidelity towards "my" music.

AdDM has opened my eyes, as it is the parallels to music that make the world of fragrance so fascinating for me. In music, I especially love the dark timbres, in which bright spots occasionally shine like islands. Music by Gustav Mahler, Karl Amadeus Hartmann, or Aulis Sallinen, but also Depeche Mode or Radiohead are for me such wonders of sound.

AdDM is the olfactory counterpart to the music I love so much. A fragrance in which one feels secure, that catches you, revealing dark depths but also moments of brightness. If there were concerts where fragrance was "played" simultaneously: That would probably be my heaven.