Lilitu

I never would have thought that I would fall so in love with a "pure" candy scent. For me, these fragrances were in the "only for girls" corner - very young girls, I mean.
Moreover, I can't relate to the cloyingly sweet floral staples like "Olympéa," "La Vie est belle," "J'Adore," etc. So I thought a sweet gourmand scent probably wasn't for me either.

My prejudice against a "pure" sweet fragrance intensified when I tested Pink Sugar. For the price, I naturally bought a whole bottle right away. And then - pure disappointment - sweet, synthetic, burnt, and with a bit of a sharp edge. Phew - it just didn't work for me. So I fittingly gifted the pink scent for Christmas to my neighbor's daughter. She loves "Pink."

Despite this experience, I continued to linger around Prada "Candy." Also, the "sweet" bottle somehow appealed to me. I had read a lot of contradictory things about the scent, but as it had to happen, the fragrance ended up in my shopping cart - just 30 ml to try at first.

And "shock, heavy distress" - BAM - without any warning, I was instantly head over heels in love. What can I say? I AM IN LOVE - so in love.

I can't even say exactly what speaks to me. It's not that I can pick out the individual notes. The scent doesn't really develop much on my skin either. You get what you smell. That's it! And that's great!

This blend of musk, benzoin, and caramel is simply heavenly. The musk here is not animalistic at all, or "too much" as it can sometimes be with Narciso Rodriguez, but radiant, sweet, and warm. The benzoin note adds a subtle - in the sense of a hint - oriental flair. This gourmand note of sweet milk chocolate with a touch of vanilla - not so resinous, but sweet and warm. Then the crowning glory - all embedded in this beautiful delicate caramel aroma of overheated honey. Not sticky, but powdery soft. All of this creates this sensual appetizing melange à Trois.

Does it sound too overwhelming? It's not meant that way. "Candy" is not a blockbuster. I associate it more with a beautiful warm sensual spring day. Everything awakens to new life. Someone is savoring delicious chocolate-vanilla ice cream with caramel topping in the neighbor's garden. Just a powdery hint of it wafts over to us. Like the fragrant attractants that the first flowers emit to attract their pollinators. Unobtrusive and unconscious - almost hidden like pheromones. At the same time, the fine sun rays tickle pleasantly softly on our skin. A cozy, sensual warmth flows through our bodies. And a radiant smile invites us. That is "Candy."

Unfortunately, the sillage and longevity are really a bit of a downer that detracts from this otherwise perfect, wonderful Eau de Parfum. I would still buy it again. Because love is known to be blind - maybe even scent-blind ;-)

... like an extremely suspicious cat, I have been sneaking around this scent ever since "My Way" hit the market. Something draws me in like a magnet, yet at the same time, I am not quite sure if I like the fragrance or not.

At first, I was attracted by the presentation. Perhaps the packaging and/or the bottle? However, I am not a bottle lover, but rather pragmatic above all.

A bottle must feel good in the hand, and the spray mechanism should be easy to press - oh dear, oh dear, that sounds like a weapon. A woman's weapon, hmm. The perfume bottle as a woman's weapon? I fear that I might spark a feminist discussion with that, hehe. Let's better leave that aside. I am straying too far off topic.
"Last but not least," the spray should create a fine mist. That’s it. The exterior doesn’t interest me much.

And honestly, the bottle of "My Way" is neither the prettiest nor the ugliest. I like the warm rose color with the dark blue of the writing and the cap. Not as garish as some other packaging or bottles. The writing is kept simple and elegant.

It is the name that I find exceptionally appealing - really appealing: MY WAY. It reminds me of completely unknown older fragrances with this or a similar name that have passed me by. So be it. "My Way" by Giorgio Armani has captured my full attention since 2020.

After my summer vacation, I saw the commercial. I observed the advertising campaigns in perfume shops and drugstore chains and wanted to try it out. At some point, I seized the opportunity in a local Müller drugstore.

And practically starving from the lockdowns, I tested everything I could that day. I tried the new "My Way" on my skin and also took a scented test strip with me. But in all the fragrance testing that day - including a "Scandal" variant from Jean Paul Gaultier, something from "Chloé," and numerous men's fragrances - I lost track of my available skin pieces. Oops.

On the numerous test strips that I had stuffed together in my backpack, I then tried to painstakingly sort everything out at home. I was left with only a vague memory that I somehow liked "My Way" and that the "Scandal" variant was too sweet, the "Chloé" variant too classic, and let's not even mention the men's fragrances.

So later, I tried my tried-and-true method again and first ordered a fragrance twin, which surprisingly hit the market quite quickly. However, the result was sobering. I immediately tested the fragrance twin on my skin. While I liked the fragrance twin, I couldn’t connect it with the scent that was lingering in my memory from the test strip.

And now, a year and a half later, at Christmas, it finally happened. My aunt gave me a sample of the Eau de Parfum "My Way." Okay, that doesn’t sound too spectacular. I should mention that we no longer exchange Christmas gifts in the family. After all, we are all adults. But my aunt knows about my fragrance obsession, so I scored a few samples on Christmas Eve. And I was as happy as a snow queen.

"My Way" - this name brings back memories of "tralalala .... I did it, I did it my way" by Frank Sinatra and many other interpreters sung powerfully and emotionally. Originally a French chanson with a completely different meaning, and then elevated to a worldwide hit with a new text and a strong statement by Frank Sinatra. Can the eponymous fragrance keep up? I am curious to find out.

The scent starts on my skin with a slightly zesty note of bergamot. That makes my heart rejoice. But it’s too short-lived. On the test strip, this lasts much longer. Moreover, the transition to orange blossom is more floral on my skin. Yet in both test variants, the orange blossom takes the lead. I love orange blossom. Sniff. On my wrist, the blossom is more orange-like. I don’t know how else to express it - creamier rather than floral.

After a quarter of an hour, the top note peeks around the corner. However, I don’t perceive the tuberose yet, but I do sense the sweet floral jasmine. The whole thing is still creamy on the skin. Finally, a hint of tuberose can be detected. On the test strip, everything still appears more floral.

In conclusion, the base notes settle as a ménage à trois of cedar, vanilla, and musk. I suspect that the vanilla is responsible for the early onset of creaminess on my skin. I perceive the individual fragrance notes as a creamy, subtly woody unity.

Quite differently on the test strip, here I smell the woody cedar embedded in the creamy vanilla, and the gentle, barely noticeable musk in the background.

On Parfumo, the fragrance is described as floral-sweet. However, anyone expecting a screaming, squeaky sweetness will be disappointed. I perceive the sweetness as subtle and pleasant.

I would rate the sillage and longevity as upper medium. Not beast mode, but quite okay.

Conclusion:
I like the scent. However, I prefer the more floral variant on the test strip much better than the direct comparison of the scent on my skin.

Thus, the expectations that "My Way" awakened in me due to its name are not met. Don’t get me wrong, this doesn’t make it a bad fragrance. It is pleasant, easy to wear, and really nice, but for me, it is nothing unique as the name suggests. In my opinion, it doesn’t deserve the poor rating here on Parfumo.

Nevertheless, I am still considering whether it should move in with me. Or maybe I’ll try the Intense variant? So I continue to sneak around the hot porridge - uh, scent - like the cat. We’ll see.

The cold season may be the wrong time (or maybe not, that remains to be seen) for a review of "Bal d'Afrique," but only now do I dare to approach this little gem.

And as has often happened - I stumbled upon this perfume through a fragrance twin. I ordered various unknown scents from an established fragrance twin manufacturer - in search of a scent for the summer vacation. The brand "Byredo" meant nothing to me a year ago. So there I was, lying on the palette lounge on our terrace, merrily testing different dupes. And suddenly, a beautiful, light, delicately buoyant scent blend wafted towards me. Initially slightly citrusy and then simply an indefinable wonderful melange. Wow - what a great fragrance. What was this perfume? What is the original called? Where can I buy it?

After that, everything followed my classic pattern. First, I researched what I had put under my nose. Aha. "Bal d'Afrique." What can I say?
Just the name alone is a poem. I love Africa - the first thing that came to my mind with this name was Namibia. A ball in one of the beautiful large colonial-style houses? No, somehow inappropriate. Because the terrible chapter of colonialism associated with those houses is hard to reconcile with this light, cheerful scent.

My association goes in a different direction. It takes the path to a flower garden in spring, complemented by various trees, citrus plants, shrubs, and grasses. Not necessarily African.

However, a cheeky image pushes itself to the forefront:
In the light of the setting sun, the silhouette of a Marula tree can be seen. Stop - okay, I admit, this tree does not fit with this name. At least not with the first part of the name "Bal." But to "Afrique," this tree fits perfectly. The name of this fragrance really poses a great challenge for me. Not, however, this wonderful, soothing scent.

If I continue to follow my thoughts, this name doesn't seem so inappropriate anymore. Because the scent of ripe Marula fruits attracts many elephants every year. That’s why this tree is often called the "elephant tree." The elephants enjoy eating the ripe fallen fruits, supposedly attracted by the sweet fruity citrus scent of the fruits. Which would be very fitting.

Additionally, there’s the story that eating the fermenting fruits apparently gets the elephants drunk, causing them to sway slightly after consumption. Whether this is true is another question. There are quite different explanations for it.
But the thought of an annual ball of a herd of African elephants dancing around a wild Marula tree in the African savannah pleases me immensely. Voilà, and the name fits.

I immediately purchased a decant after the first fragrance twin. This was, by the way, my very first purchase in the Parfumo-Souk. How I trembled and shook that everything would go well. Luckily, a very nice Parfumo sent me this decant. Thank you very much for your patience, tested by my hesitation and the countless questions about the process. Everything went well, and soon I joyfully held my first fragrance mail in my hands. What can I say? Shocked in love - irrevocably.

I hadn’t dared to write a review yet. My nose was too inexperienced. I lacked the terminology to describe a fragrance and simply the experience to pick out individual notes. "Thanks" to the lockdown, I gradually caught up on this. Well, so the stupid lockdown had something good after all. I don’t want to claim that I’ve turned into an expert. No, definitely not. However, I finally dare to express my personal layman's opinion.

Three fragrance twins later, I am finally ready to write a review of the original. You’re wondering. Three dupes later? Why? When I started my fragrance hobby again, it seemed like a sacrilege to buy such an expensive perfume. In the meantime, I know that there are much more expensive scents out there. I am drifting further into the niche scene. This niche fragrance addiction has simply caught me off guard. No methadone program with fragrance twins can help. In the end, I mostly want the original.

So let’s begin. On my skin, the scent starts wonderfully soft-citrusy with the bergamot-neroli-lemon blend. No piercing cologne-like note disturbs this melange. All top notes are perfectly blended. Perhaps it’s the added Buchu and Tagetes note that makes everything harmoniously mild. I don’t know what Buchu or Tagetes smell like. In the background, I perceive a slightly fruity note. However, this note is not a sweet fruit for eating. Additionally, something green shines through - a hint of mint. But don’t think it’s a mix of After Eight and Earl Grey. Far from it. This fragrance composition is much more complex and incredibly difficult to describe.

A floral note follows in the form of a beautiful light jasmine. This is complemented by my beloved powdery scent elements. As a duo, violet and alpine violet unite. Who knows the difference? Unfortunately, I don’t. For me, these powdery notes give the perfume a certain something and also something very feminine.

Yes, I’m sorry for the unisex advocates. For me, this scent leans towards the feminine. That doesn’t mean a man can’t wear it. I also love certain men’s fragrances on myself.
To test, I held "Bal d'Afrique" under my husband’s nose. He likes it, but he strictly refuses to spray this perfume, which seems very feminine to him, on his skin. Too bad - I would have loved to explore "Bal d'Afrique" on him to verify my own opinion. Who knows, maybe it would have turned out to be unisex???

Maybe I’ll just secretly spray the scent on my husband’s arm when he’s not looking. Let’s see. I sneak up from behind. Oops, caught. Didn’t work. He can just tell by the tip of my nose what I’m planning. He probably has eyes in the back of his head.

The drydown is now slowly approaching. The grassy-woody elements take over in the form of vetiver and Atlas cedar. Sounds martial. But it’s not meant that way at all. Because the overall composition retains its playful lightness. It helps that the animalic notes of amber and musk only subtly hold back in the background. A masterpiece of blending the fragrance notes. Simply beautiful.

Conclusion:
For me, "Bal d'Afrique" is a "definitive" summer scent. But in winter, it’s the SECRET TIP against winter and lockdown depression. Just spray it on, and I feel better. Hmm, sniff, sniff. So beautiful.
Wonderfully and yet unfortunately, this scent is light. Thus, the longevity and sillage are manageable. One reason why I was looking for a more potent fragrance twin.
Oh, how desperately I searched for a suitable fragrance twin. But what can I say? Nothing, simply nothing beats the original here. And when I’ve used up the decant, "Bal d'Afrique" in the form of an original bottle simply has to move in with me.

Oud and I - we are at odds. Yet I keep trying to get accustomed to Oud fragrances. So far, in vain. Maybe it's time now? Or maybe not? Anything is possible.

Unfortunately, I belong to the "candidates" on whose skin Oud smells like a big pile of feces. No idea why my skin chemistry reacts so extremely to Oud fragrances. My skin also reacts extremely to galbanum. But that's another story.

I tested "Sweetie Aoud" by Roja and also briefly sprayed "Amber Aoud." "Amber Aoud" was, to put it mildly, a disaster in "brown notes."
At least "Sweetie Aoud" spared me the fecal scent. That's why I haven't given up hope yet and am now daring to try "Ombre Nomade."

A dear perfumist introduced me to this exclusive fragrance. Along with my Amouage Sunshine sample ordered in the souk, I received a sample of "Ombre Nomade" as a little goodie. Thank you very much for that.

I confess, I would never have thought to test this perfume on my own. At some point in my fragrance journey, I had come across "Ombre Nomade." The name sounded enticing, but after a quick look at the notes, I lost all interest.
And then - one fine day - I suddenly had a small sample in front of me. Well, what can I say? Testing doesn't hurt. At worst, I would have to scrub the scent off quickly. So, why not?

Let's be brave and give it a try.

Bam. At first, this Oud note literally jumps in my face. But like with "Sweetie Aoud," the Oud here is not fecal. But still intense. Really intense. Not really to my taste.

Honestly, it's difficult for me to describe this extreme Oud note:

Something woody-dry and a hard-to-grasp animalic note occupy my inner nasal walls. Phew, this is intense. A smoky note quickly joins in. I guess it's the incense. But everything is still quite intense and dry. Not my thing. Phew.

Oud is often described as warm. That would fit my usual perception of other Oud perfumes, where I could almost visually see the warm "special" pile steaming. But here it’s different. This Oud practically dries out my nasal mucous membranes. I must emphasize again, still no fecal note. Nevertheless: "I am not amused."

Finally, after a few minutes, it becomes warmer. No worries, still no fecal note. Instead, it seems that a veil is slowly wrapping around the prickly-dry wood. The fire continues to crackle. The prickly smell gradually recedes, leaving a warm woody scent.

So, who is so brave?

Quietly and stealthily, the benzoin has crept in. Someone has thrown a few warm and spicy benzoin grains disguised as pine cones into the fire. Don’t get me wrong. It doesn’t smell like pine cones. On some website, benzoin was referred to as a soul-soothing scent. How true. This makes the entire fragrance blend softer and creamier and sooooo delicious.

By now, the moment has come when I can't stop sniffing my wrist. What a beautiful smoky and velvety scent has developed.
On the cosmetic tissue, I can even perceive a hint of sweet fruit, which I daringly identify as a raspberry note. Unfortunately, this fine note is too much in the background on my skin.

If only a little more of this subtly berry component could be smelled on my skin, then this perfume would become MY PERFECT Oud fragrance. It just lacks that tiny little bit for the perfect scent.

However, to say "too bad" now would be a gross exaggeration. Because the scent also develops beautifully on my skin. The smoky element gives it a daring adventurous touch.
I can almost see the silhouettes of men wrapped in flowing robes riding their camels through the desert. Undoubtedly a cliché.
But like an archetype, this cliché evokes a longing for freedom and adventure. Who can resist that? Not me!
And let’s be honest, we all have our little collection of clichés hidden in our subconscious. Shaped by memories from my childhood, I am now joyfully rummaging through the cliché-dripping novels of a certain Karl May.

Conclusion:
I can certainly understand the controversies surrounding this fragrance. I don’t really consider it suitable for everyday wear. It’s too special for me. For me, it’s a perfume for special occasions.
And I can say - YES - it is the first Oud fragrance that I actually like.

P.S. Now I just need to get my husband to wear it too. Then I will daringly follow him ("through wild Kurdistan" or simply) into wild adventure, and together we will cast our shadows on the sand dunes in the light of the rising sun.

During my last summer vacation, I finally wanted to go perfume shopping on a budget. Unfortunately, that wasn't possible at the Duty Free Shop. We flew way too early. I even think we were on the first flight that morning.

So I seized the opportunity on the plane. After an extensive study of the in-flight shopping catalog, I had three very different favorites: "Run Wild for her" by Davidoff, "Sexy Amber" by Michael Kors, and "Nomade" by Chloé. After much back and forth, I decided on the outbound flight to go for "Run Wild." I was too curious about the pistachio note in it.

On the return flight, I wanted to choose between "Nomade" and "Sexy Amber." But, oh no. Those very fragrances were sold out, and I had no interest in the others.

During a visit to my husband's relatives, I finally got an opportunity three weeks ago. We wanted to quickly buy some flowers on-site, and right across from the flower shop was a perfumery.

After some discussions with my husband, who said "no time - your sister is already waiting for us," and me insisting "it'll be quick - just a quick look," I dashed across the street while my husband loaded the flowers into the car.
I was delighted to see that even in this tiny perfumery, there was a small but fine selection of niche fragrances. But as I said - no time for that.
Instead, I searched the designer shelf for Chloé fragrances - specifically "Nomade." Of course, I was once again blind. But the nice saleswoman soon rushed over after she finished her chat with an acquaintance. It is, after all, a small place, to be precise, a typical small town. Everyone knows everyone.

Now my husband joined me. So I had to act quickly. "Do you have 'Nomade'?" I asked her, turning to my husband, "it'll be quick."
And what can I say, she of course had "Nomade," even in three variants in different sizes. The options were Eau de Toilette, Eau de Parfum, and Absolu de Parfum. Since I was still unsure about the scent notes, I only wanted to quickly grab the smallest size as EDP. However, my husband and I hadn't counted on the nice saleswoman. Of course, the resolute lady picked up on the scent. I just wanted to pay quickly. No! That was not going to happen. Now I was the prey. Without testing, the lady wouldn't let me out of her clutches. In my mind, I could hear my husband's groan.

First, the obviously knowledgeable perfume consultant let me sniff the different concentrations on the scent testers. Another attempt to pay failed miserably. Now I also had to have a wrist test. After all, the same perfume smells different on everyone's skin, she explained diligently.
I stood my ground. "I want the smallest package."
With that, I probably appealed to her perfume expert honor, and she quickly sprayed the EdP on my scarf while my husband was already impatiently shifting from one foot to the other. So I quickly grabbed the Eau de Parfum and rushed to the checkout. And now, I am the proud owner of "Nomade."

Actually, I never wanted to test a Chloé perfume again. My previous attempts always failed due to the typical Chloé DNA. But "Nomade" is different. Special.

The scent starts lightly and fresh on the tester and on my skin. While it continues to smell fresh on the tester, it transforms into a dry breeze on my wrist.
Honestly, I must shamefully admit that I cannot pick out any of the three scent notes mentioned above individually. I perceive neither the freesia, the mirabelle, nor the oak moss.

I thought that due to the mirabelle, the perfume should be subtly fruitier and sweeter. But instead, a dry desert wind embraces me, just like the one I know from Egypt. I still only perceive the freshness on the test strip - maybe a hint of freesia?

On my wrist, a warm nuance is now developing - like a warm dry desert wind. Hm. Unique and completely unsweet. A memory of me as a young girl rises within me. When I was still in school, my aunt gifted me "Diorissimo" after I had sniffed it. At that time, I also liked to wear "Eau de Calandre."

Don't get me wrong, these fragrances bear no resemblance to "Nomade" in the slightest. Just the feeling of wearing a 'special' perfume at a time when everyone else shocked their surroundings with "Poison" resembles my current feeling when I wear "Nomade."

I must add that I have never really followed the zeitgeist - I usually discovered clothes for myself only after they were long out of fashion, or I simply loved wearing my father's old shirts. What does that remind me of today? Oh yes, the checkered patterns of the "flannel shirts" for women that have been available everywhere for a year or two :-)
But I digress.

The warmth on my wrist has diminished. The dry note is becoming stronger again. The scent is increasingly heading in a chypre direction. I assume the oak moss is now coming into play.

Fragrantica lists additional scent notes that are not mentioned here. But I do not perceive these individually either. This scent is a real challenge. For me, it is a complete composition that does change and develop, but is not explicitly identifiable. I only receive associations with this unique scent.

Conclusion:
I love the little proud nomad. She stands in the warm dry desert wind and lets her gaze wander over the undulating sand dunes. Meanwhile, the sun sets in a still warm red-orange fireball, hinting at the cool approaching desert night.

And damn it, I should have bought the large bottle!!!