Kokoloressa

Bouteille Blanche arrived at my doorstep in a sample package. I had never heard of the brand Leykarar before, so I was excited about this testing opportunity. Of the three samples included in the package (Black Bottle, Bouteille Blanche, and Un peu bizarre), I found the White Bottle to be the most extraordinary.

The fragrance opens with a citrus peel that comes across as slightly herbal-green. It creates a refreshing, invigorating impression, entirely free of fruity or sharp citrus notes.
Magnolia, blueberry, and white chocolate are supposed to form the heart note. I would have expected a slightly gourmand twist. Instead, I smell something quite different:
Pea pods.
Or rather:
At this stage, Bouteille Blanche smells to me like the pea pods in my grandparents' garden do in my memory. Slightly green and with a certain sweetness. Along with a hint of an earthy note.
A scent that reminds me of sunshine and the outdoors.
The whole thing is underpinned by a fine spiciness that never makes the fragrance feel heavy, along with subtle woody notes.
Over time, I can perceive the white musk more and more. It initially comes across as clean and fresh, but gradually becomes creamier until the fragrance fades out with a beautiful, light creaminess.

Unfortunately, I find the sillage and longevity - in contrast to its namesake Black Bottle - to be rather mediocre. The fragrance lasts only about 4-5 hours on me before it can only be detected up close.

Nevertheless, I consider Bouteille Blanche to be a very unusual scent. It conveys freshness without being too spritzy, citrusy, or green. The name suits it, although I associate this Leykarar more with a soft, creamy white than a bright, radiant white.
Not a fragrance I would truly wear, but it brings a smile to my face as it evokes very vivid memories of my grandparents' garden and the many hours I spent there as a child (and how I loved to harvest and munch on pea pods).

...or: A spray of sex, please.

Sometimes, everything that can be said about a fragrance has already been said. But then it evokes so many images in the mind that you want to dedicate a comment to it as well. This is the case with Moulin Rouge and me - and that's despite the fact that it doesn't really suit me. But read on.

I was (once again) hooked by Ergreifens' comment. Powder, alcohol, and sex - that sounded like a fragrance I at least wanted to try, and so I received a sample of Moulin Rouge through a sharing, which of course had to be tested immediately.

The scent starts off very alcoholic for me. I feel more reminded of rum punch than absinthe. This is probably due to the cinnamon and plums. However, I don't have the impression that I'm directly sniffing the aforementioned drink, but rather that the breath of someone who just drank it is wafting into my nose. Not completely unpleasant, but still, I mentally take a step back. The alcohol smell fades over time - but this aroma remains for a long time, which caresses the perfumed and powdered body of a femme fatale.

Her evening makeup is a bit smudged, and under her fur-collared coat, she wears nothing. A hint of fresh sweat can be sensed - it has been a long evening. She has carelessly tossed aside her fine leather handbag, sat on the bed with her legs crossed, and looks up challengingly.

I don't associate her with wax, but this woman definitely doesn't have flowery sex. She has experimented, knows what she wants and how to get it. She no longer cares about what others say about her. Trivialities no longer interest her; she lives only once and wants to fully enjoy it.

The name "Moulin Rouge" is truly well chosen. The fragrance strikes me as incredibly decadent, seductive, erotic - in a very adult, yes mature, and somehow anachronistic way. This is definitely not an office scent and also not suitable for an evening on the couch. This fragrance needs the right ambiance. Even for avant-garde theater or a visit to the opera, it wouldn't be for me. A variety show like the famous red mill would be just the right place. To wear it elsewhere requires a certain presence and the knowledge of one's own erotic effect.

And therein lies a bit of the catch for me: I, at my current 25 years, simply feel too young for this wonderful fragrance. It would come off on me like a costume. An expensive favorite costume, but still immediately recognizable as such, since I couldn't credibly convey the message that this fragrance sends out into the world.
For now, I will let it go again - but Moulin Rouge is certainly another candidate on the list "I will test this again in a few years."

A generous sample of this fragrance arrived with Mamski's lavender hiking package. Had I read the fragrance pyramid beforehand, I would have probably set it aside as "not for me." Absinthe, patchouli, leather, and vetiver would have deterred me in combination. However, on a whim, I sprayed Aberdeen Lavanda on my skin without a prior "ingredient check" - thankfully.

My first association is a mild lavender liqueur with a slight green spiciness and menthol note. Not bad, but I would have preferred that in a glass rather than on my skin. Shortly thereafter, a lovely citrus note joins in - the kind that makes you think absolutely nothing of cleaning products. The green spiciness from the opening now reveals itself as rosemary, while the menthol note recedes to skin level (where it remains for quite a while).
Slowly, a non-sweet powdery note creeps in, initially a bit restrained, but becoming significantly more present with the blooming of the heart note. The flowers that serve as supporting actresses to the lavender are finely woven and never push themselves to the forefront, instead bringing something soft to the fragrance without dominating it.
Patchouli (together with the vetiver?) provides a damp, earthy touch, with no trace of mustiness in sight. The subtle leather note makes me think of fine, well-worn leather boots that get dampened by dew during a morning walk in the countryside.
Overall, I primarily smell a powdery and distinct lavender note. Closer to the skin, it shows a slightly herbaceous spiciness, but remains harmonious and light.

With Aberdeen Lavanda, I think of elegant country chic and refined understatement. I find it rather cool, fitting for a late summer or early autumn morning. Scientist wrote that the fragrance would suit the Scottish Highlands - I agree.
I perceive it quite well on myself - only after about three hours does it pull back a bit and remains well detectable on the skin for another two to three hours.

In hindsight, I am glad I sprayed it "unknowingly." Maybe I should do that more often. Aberdeen Lavanda won't be a wish list candidate for me - it's a bit too "sophisticated" for that - but I appreciate this testing opportunity. Thank you, Mamski!

I was quite curious about Pop Tokyo. The scent notes didn't sound too bad, and the packaging made me hope for a fragrance that would remind me of Harajuku, the "quirky" district of Tokyo - colorful, unconventional, and loveable (and I’m not just saying that because of the cake-and-pastry-all-you-can-eat restaurant there!).

So right after arriving, I freed the pretty colorful box from its foil and opened it.
Already the first disappointment: The bottle looks quite cheap "in real life," which is probably mainly due to the plastic cap. Even the Murano glass bead can't save it. What a shame, because I find the bottle very appealing in the photo.
But with fragrances, it's mainly about the inner values, so Pop Tokyo was sprayed directly onto the skin.
Well.

I thought the bottle had disappointed me.
Unfortunately, the scent itself disappoints even more.
In my opinion, the fragrance pyramid should look like this:
Top note: Liquid soap (with a hint of lemon)
Heart note: Dish soap (the green one)
Base note: Liquid soap (with a bit of synthetic musk fragrance oil)
The scent really smells like cheap soap from start to finish. It has been classified here as synthetic-sweet. I can fully agree with the "synthetic" part, but it is hardly sweet on me at all. With a lot of goodwill, I can imagine a slightly sweet background note, but it doesn't stand a chance against the soap.

Fortunately, the scent doesn't last long and can be easily washed off (with even more soap).
Unfortunately, it’s just a huge disappointment for me. The fragrance does not live up to the promises of its name and packaging. What a shame.
I am, however, curious whether it’s me or the bottle, so it will be moving on soon. I am very eager to hear other opinions.

(And I gladly welcome recommendations for possible "Harajuku fragrances"!)

Pamplemousse begins with the namesake grapefruit (and woe betide anyone who brings up "grapefruit" here!), accompanied by lemons. Both come across quite authentically, even if the lemon wobbles for a moment on the edge between "zesty-fresh" and "toilet cleaner." Fortunately, it finds its balance again at the last moment.
In the background, I think I can perceive gentle aquatic notes, and later a hint of musk joins in, which becomes noticeable especially after the fresh top note fades away.

Speaking of fading: Unfortunately, Pamplemousse, unlike Figue Blanche, is a rather short pleasure. The citrus fruits barely last a good hour, after which almost only the musk base can be detected for another hour.
However, at the extremely attractive price, frequent reapplication isn't too painful.

Pamplemousse is absolutely unisex and has neither great sillage nor longevity. Still, it is a lovely, simple scent that I can easily imagine as a little refreshing kick on hot days. Who knows, maybe it lasts a bit longer in the heat.

The bottle is simple and resembles the other Berdoues colognes. It comes without any outer packaging. A big plus: The spray nozzle can be easily unscrewed, which makes refilling much easier.

Conclusion:
Pamplemousse is definitely worth a try. Just so you can write comments with bad grapefruit rhymes in the title (try doing that with "grapefruit"!).