Lilibeth
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Lilibeth
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Persiko, Apfelkorn - and then: scandal by night
Man and woman Parfumista may wonder what do these terrible alcoholic beverages, which insult all taste buds, and a perfume have in common that they stand side by side in one title?
The answer lies in my individual reaction: Of all three deafening impositions, I feel sick.
So --- if this - admittedly sharpened - summary is enough for you, you may stop reading here and withdraw with an "oh, how sad" or "I knew it would be" and turn to fond smells or positive surprises of an olfactory kind.
For those who are hesitant, here still my experiencing this new (really?) fragrance from JPG with more details:
I was careless enough to open my rehearsal on a Saturday evening and quickly apply to my wrist.
Balance status at this time: xxx Kilogram.
Immediately sweet scents conquered my nose and for tenths of a second the predominant scent impression was: flowery-sweet. So far - so expectable.
But instead of a delicate flower dream, the obviously aggressively applied scent molecules added up to a sticky, honey-embossed carpet of scents, well, let's say - topping, which had nothing to offer apart from a tremendous intensity of great penetrance: As in Scandal, tuberose and patchouli are sought in vain, at least notes that deserve these names.
But I wanted to see how the scent would develop. Maybe you just have to give him a chance to allow some time to connect with the skin and unfold his true character? Unfortunately SBN rather revealed a commodity character: All cards already played, even bubblegum smells more differentiated. From minute to minute I had the feeling that I had eaten far too many honey rolls, many, many heavy honey rolls with the cheap industrial sugar honey dönns.
A glance at the scale confirmed: xxx Kilo plus 3! Within 10 minutes! I had to act!
So to the wash basin and there water and fine olive soap should put an end to the sweet overkill, which already threatened to stick my brain: Everything appeared to me with honey-coloured yellow underlay. Weia.
Back at work I opened the windows and let the night pass by, which was still due to the scandalously overdriven mono scent of the valuable oxygen elements. Now the harassment should come to an end, I thought, and sat down. Instead, another sweet cloud waved through the room and reached for me. A sniff test on the wrist confirmed:
At least the durability is (unfortunately) above average good.
The answer lies in my individual reaction: Of all three deafening impositions, I feel sick.
So --- if this - admittedly sharpened - summary is enough for you, you may stop reading here and withdraw with an "oh, how sad" or "I knew it would be" and turn to fond smells or positive surprises of an olfactory kind.
For those who are hesitant, here still my experiencing this new (really?) fragrance from JPG with more details:
I was careless enough to open my rehearsal on a Saturday evening and quickly apply to my wrist.
Balance status at this time: xxx Kilogram.
Immediately sweet scents conquered my nose and for tenths of a second the predominant scent impression was: flowery-sweet. So far - so expectable.
But instead of a delicate flower dream, the obviously aggressively applied scent molecules added up to a sticky, honey-embossed carpet of scents, well, let's say - topping, which had nothing to offer apart from a tremendous intensity of great penetrance: As in Scandal, tuberose and patchouli are sought in vain, at least notes that deserve these names.
But I wanted to see how the scent would develop. Maybe you just have to give him a chance to allow some time to connect with the skin and unfold his true character? Unfortunately SBN rather revealed a commodity character: All cards already played, even bubblegum smells more differentiated. From minute to minute I had the feeling that I had eaten far too many honey rolls, many, many heavy honey rolls with the cheap industrial sugar honey dönns.
A glance at the scale confirmed: xxx Kilo plus 3! Within 10 minutes! I had to act!
So to the wash basin and there water and fine olive soap should put an end to the sweet overkill, which already threatened to stick my brain: Everything appeared to me with honey-coloured yellow underlay. Weia.
Back at work I opened the windows and let the night pass by, which was still due to the scandalously overdriven mono scent of the valuable oxygen elements. Now the harassment should come to an end, I thought, and sat down. Instead, another sweet cloud waved through the room and reached for me. A sniff test on the wrist confirmed:
At least the durability is (unfortunately) above average good.
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