Lilibeth

Man and woman Parfumista might wonder, what do these terrible, taste-bud-offending alcoholic drinks and a perfume have in common that they stand side by side in a title?

The answer lies in my individual reaction: Of all three numbing impositions, I felt nauseous.

So --- for those who find this - admittedly pointed - summary sufficient, you may stop reading here and retreat with an "oh, what a pity" or "I knew it" to beloved scents or positive olfactory surprises.

For those who hesitate, here is my experience with this new (really?) fragrance from JPG in more detail:

I was careless enough to open my sample on a Saturday evening and quickly apply it to my wrist.
At that moment, the scale read: xxx kilograms.

Immediately, sweet scent notes conquered my nose and for tenths of a second, the prevailing olfactory impression was: floral-sweet. So far - so predictable.

But instead of a delicate floral dream, the obviously aggressively formulated scent molecules added up to a syrupy, honey-laden scent carpet, well, let’s say - coating, which had nothing to offer besides an enormous intensity of great penetration: As with Scandal, one searches in vain for tuberose and patchouli, at least notes that deserve those names.

But I wanted to wait and see how the scent would develop. Perhaps it just needs a chance, some time to connect with the skin and reveal its true character? Unfortunately, SBN rather revealed a commercial character: All cards already played, even bubblegum smells more differentiated. With each passing minute, I felt increasingly that I had eaten far too many honey buns, many, many, many heavy honey buns with cheap industrial sugar honey stuff.
A glance at the scale confirmed: xxx kilos plus 3! Within just 10 minutes! I had to act!

So to the sink, where water and fine olive soap should put an end to the sweet overkill that was already threatening to glue my brain: Everything appeared to me tinged with honey-colored yellow. Yikes.

Back at my workspace, I opened the windows and let out into the night what remained of the scandalously overdriven mono-scent still clinging to the precious oxygen elements. Now the nuisance should come to an end, I thought, and sat down. Instead, a sweetish cloud wafted through the room again and reached for me. A sniff test on my wrist confirmed:
At least the longevity is (unfortunately) above average good.

(Nearly) summer nights in the big city: Between the buildings, the warmth of the day lingers, through the open windows, evening-cool air and the (almost) all-encompassing silence descends as everyone gathers in front of the television to watch a football match. Occasional shouts announce (nearly) goals or missed chances, now and then the sound of car tires on asphalt rushes by, and a few young voices reveal that not everyone has caught the football fever. The night slowly falls into darkness. I sit on the bed, and the fan swirls the night air with the warmth of an attic apartment to pleasant temperatures.

The fan carries a scent cloud from my wrist to my nose, sprayed on about two hours ago: Essence de Patchouli.

At first, there is little to smell of patchouli, primarily iris and geranium, blended with an unclear type of wood. The geranium initially brings an earthy tone to the mix; I almost sensed incense, but that is likely an illusion. This is somewhat exciting and invigorating, awakening the desire for more and a deeper connection.
The subtle floral notes of iris and rose soon retreat into a deep shadow of rose geranium and patchouli, a combination that significantly alters both scent components, making it hard to say whether one or the other or even another ingredient like guaiac or cedarwood dominates.

Just as the day transitions into the unchanging color world of night, Essence de Patchouli quickly falls into a steady and less expansive scent note. One can easily fall in love with this fragrance, but this love is soon followed by the everyday routine of the Honey - in this case, the floral - Moon. This good-natured heaviness risks transforming into the placidity of all things uneventful:
This is not bad per se, but the awakened expectations remain unfulfilled. Perhaps this experience changes when the fragrance is used more frequently. You know what to expect and are not disappointed.
Yet the question of the depth of the relationship arises, and that is a question of temperament - this scent has character but definitely does not belong to the most energetic.
And there can't always be a fan to create a whirlwind :)

On the streets, traffic resumes, the children have been put to bed, and I reach for the remote: fan off and TV on. Let's see how Essence de Patchouli holds up without support…

The day was warm and sunny, the city not overcrowded, we had time, and so my companion and I wandered into a side street where my local favorite perfumery has recently opened.

I wanted to test an Oud et Bois fragrance and left my companion standing in front of a Guerlain shelf to follow the friendly lady into another part of the room - to the temptations of sandalwood, incense, and patchouli… and ended up with a surprise that could potentially replace Shalimar (which I no longer like as much in the new composition as in the original formula).

While Shalimar tiptoes through the summer-warm country estate in violet-blue satin sandals, holding a sparkling perfumed champagne drink and wearing a confident smile as she flirtatiously links arms with you, Note de Luxe saunters lazily in berry-red ankle boots to the pool, letting a bit of leg peek through the side slit of her simple, floor-length dress with every step.

Her glass is filled with robust dark wine, intensifying the glow of her lips. A dark fringe of lashes surrounds her blue eyes, and when she speaks, she speaks slowly, softly, and with timbre. She keeps to the side, observing closely, and her smile carries a hint of delicate mockery. When she leaves the room, not only eyes follow her…

Note de Luxe begins warm and soft, offering something comforting rather than exciting, but therein lies the addictive danger, as the fascinating darkness lurks right next to the soft gentleness.

A beautiful combination for both winter and summer days, and Note de Luxe is alluring, but unfortunately only has average sillage and similar longevity. For the price range, it should be a bit more.

So for now, it remained just a sample; the rather unexciting bottle was initially returned to the shelf. But Note de Luxe has already made it onto my internal wishlist.
And I’ll cuddle with my fragrant summer find until the end of the sample, quite casually :)

Edit: The longevity is better than I thought - at three centimeters away, the scent is still perceptible even after 12 hours. I’m wondering when I can next stop by my perfumery…

This comment refers to the PERFUME, which is not listed here separately. However, since the EdP is also mentioned in my comment, it fits quite well here.

Once, a bottle stood on the shelf, with a cut glass cap like a blue crown, a ribbed shape made of transparent glass, a finely curved base, pale yellow contents.
From the mother of a friend, bought in the 1970s. A wonder bottle. It transformed two teenagers into seductive sirens, who wore tough leather jackets, striped jeans, and mesh muscle shirts with studded belts, and sported asymmetrically cut bobs in shimmering colors that added a touch of luxurious grandeur.
The scent also matched metallic red ballerinas, houndstooth mini skirts, and other fashion sins of the late 1980s. The music was provided by Iggy Pop, David Bowie, Lou Reed, or the Sisters of Mercy, later Siouxsie and the Banshees, or DAF, Zatopek, and Jaki Liebezeit. The bottle emptied despite careful and economical use, and one day the inevitable happened: the liquid was gone, with only tiny remnants clinging to the glass hinting at the velvety, powdery, and lovely fragrance that had once been contained within.

Later, perhaps around the turn of the millennium, I acquired a bottle of Shalimar EdP - that was all I could afford - and although the scent did not quite reach the perfected composition of the perfume, it did provide some comfort in the absence of the original. This supply was also used up after years and soon needed to be replaced. Still, opportunities arose to enrich an evening with the familiar scent, and so another bottle of EdP was purchased. What a disappointment! The fragrance from the new formulations was just a shadow of its former beauty! But, I told myself, the perfume would be as it always was: lush, warm, enchanting.

And today - in search of an Oud et Bois - I wandered through the rooms of a familiar perfumery, saw a bottle of Shalimar, read: Parfum and thought: Why not take the opportunity - I hadn’t applied any scent - and with a nearly inaudible "pssscht," the finest mists met my wrist. I wanted to give the fragrance time to develop on my skin and made my way home without sniffing it.

Only after 30 minutes did I lean my nose to my wrist - and was simply overwhelmed with disappointment. What had already bothered me with the new EdP was also present here: no more harmony of the ingredients, no more former elegance, nothing left of the balance of noble nuances. Sharp, almost burning and intrusive.

Another perfume that has not passed its renewal. And I - I am sad that the once exquisite refinement, the enveloping softness of a great fragrance can now only live in my memory. Bye-Bye Shalimar!
On your journey through the decades, you have been lost to me. I miss you.

If the scent were a woman … I would be enchanted by her elegance: Chic in prêt-à-porter attire, unobtrusively quirky. Her wrists are adorned with slender gold bangles, her ears with delicate pearl drops, and her skin in a fine olive tone. Beautiful in a subtly quiet way. Not the woman that a man or woman immediately notices, no femme fatale, no party girl, no diva. The clinking of her bangles when she reaches for her bag, the rustling of the silk of her dress seem to belong to her like the hint of a smile at the corners of her mouth. She is more a still lake than a loud fountain, and that is what she wants to be.

Translated to the scent Coco Noir, this means: It is well-composed, without loud chords and without crescendo, more a nocturne than a symphony. It is not easy to describe, as it is, in a way, perfectly discreet. As if one were entering a room, nicely furnished, comfortably stylish, in the light of a table lamp: Everything is visible, but cast in connecting shadows.

Upon the first spray, for about 30 seconds I thought this would be my next scent. With the disappearance of the fragrance from my skin, that impulse quickly faded. Coco Noir has hardly any sillage and retreats so discreetly that only at a distance of 2 centimeters can the floral-berry bouquet be smelled. Very unfortunate, as that is not what I expect from a fragrance. The base is pleasantly dark-fruity and lasts a long time. Unfortunately, this only comes into play to a limited extent due to the absolutely inadequate projection of this perfume.

I tested the scent with a tester Eau de Parfum. On two days, once in the morning, once in the evening. Such a pity. Really. But a scent that I cannot smell is definitely a scent that is too expensive ;)