Malificent

I was 17 or 18 - somewhere between lipstick from the department store and my first great freedom. The packaging? Deep blue, shimmering like a promise in the night. And then came this fragrance - not sweet, not soft, not sweet. But rather: Hello, here I am. But without shouting.

Now, many years and fragrance journeys later, I've come back to it. And it has shown me once again: it is not a loud oriental like all the Lataffa bombers that fill the shelves today. This one is different. It has a hint of wanderlust, but remains surprisingly light, friendly, almost cheerful. Not a heavy hitter - more like an elegant dancer with stubbornness.

I would even say: fresh and oriental. Sounds weird, but feels good. It puts you in a good mood without being intrusive. And even if it has certainly had a few facelifts in the meantime - its charisma remains.

Joop! femme is like a song from your youth that you can still sing along to today. And that doesn't embarrass you, but makes you proud because you already had taste back then.

And what can I say: he has fewer wrinkles than Wolfgang Joop himself. Thank you, Wolfgang, for creating it back then.

Yes, Wool!

Sometimes, like old, familiar dreams, scents carry us back to places we've never quite left.
Bourbon vanilla is one such fragrance.

It opens with a soft, almost caressing almond-orange blossom that fills the room like the first warm breeze on a summer's day in an enchanted garden.
Then comes the heart: a rose, not loud, not shrill - but one that seems to whisper, embraced by the secret weight of tobacco.
A whiff of evenings long past settles over everything - just like in the old corridors of Manderley, where memories still waft between the curtains.

And then: the base.
A deep, golden stream of ambergris, amyris, warm bourbon vanilla and creamy tonka bean.
A carpet that unrolls under your feet, soft and endless.
A room in which you want to linger without asking how long.

Bourbon vanilla is not a quiet fragrance.
It rises up - proud, velvety and unmistakable - and yet demands no apology for its presence.
You don't wear it by chance.
You choose it - like a house in which every door unlocks another memory.

And whoever wears it also carries a piece of these old stories with them.
Perhaps a little bit of Daphne du Maurier, perhaps a little bit of themselves.
Perhaps both, forever interwoven.

AWAKE is not a fragrance for sugar lovers.
It starts like an espresso machine on full power - hot, bitter, dark.
Santos Coffee fizzes towards you, flanked by a splash of Italian lemon,
as if someone had thrown a coffee cup against a lime.

But wait and see.
When the first storm has subsided, something unexpected comes:
green cardamom, which makes everything a little green, a little spicy, a little secret.
And then: vetiver - earthy, cool, almost meditative.
The backbone of the fragrance. The quiet depth beneath the loud surface.

AWAKE is best worn solo, when you have something to say.
But it can also be tamed - or rather: pushed in new directions.
With musk, it becomes softer, rounder,
as if someone had given a rebellious teenager a cuddly pillow.
With sweet notes (vanilla, almond, toffee...) it takes on a contrast,
like dark chocolate with a caramel center.
And with tonka bean?
It becomes almost dangerously good - like a coffee with cream and sugar,
but in high heels and with dark sunglasses.
It can even carry fresh citrus scents - as a zest, as a kick, as a fragrant nod to lightness.

AWAKE is not a cloud of fragrance.
It is an accent.
A punctuation mark.
Best of all, with lots of exclamation marks!!!

Vanilla West Indies - what a surprise!

I only had two milliliters - not much really - and to be honest I put it aside for a while. Thought to myself: vanilla? Well, probably sweet again, heavy, maybe even cheesy. But then came this one moment, I just sprayed it on - and bang! There was almost nothing there at first. I thought: Okay, that's probably it.

But then, really a few minutes later, a fragrance came up that completely blew me away. So soft, so creamy, so... real. Not artificial, not sticky. But a vanilla that is somehow warm, but not warm in the sense of "spicy", but more like... like a memory that caresses you.

I immediately thought of vanilla crescents - but without Christmas, without glitter, just that moment when you smell something and feel safe. I really had goosebumps. And the crazy thing is that the scent doesn't change much, but it stays. Sometimes more, sometimes less - like a little companion on the skin.

I'm really glad that I tried it. It's somehow calm and strong at the same time. Not a wild mixture, but pure. But that's exactly what makes it special.

There are perfumes that you wear - and then there are perfumes that wear you. Fame Sensuelle is the latter: a hint of white, a promise on linen, an almost invisible veil that does not impose itself but lifts you up.

The opening is pure - like freshly showered skin in the first ray of sunshine of the day. No bright citrus, no exuberant sweetness, but a fine clarity that seems almost disembodied. Like a woman in creamy white linen, with dark hair and a red lipstick that is not loud, but cleverly placed. She only wears one ring - but this ring speaks volumes.

And then comes this note - this one special nuance that suddenly rises up like a bright bell in a silent room. It sounds pure, soft, elegant - yes, incredibly elegant - and yet at its core it carries a darker depth, almost like a subtle shadow that makes its purity even more luminous. It does something to you. It stays with you. It wraps itself around your shoulders like a warm gaze, silent but watchful. This is not arbitrariness - this is character in fragrance form.

Fame Sensuelle unfolds like a memory: clean, soft, sensual. Never cool, always touchable. It is as if someone has captured the feeling of silk, of shell sand, of a gentle breeze - and given it a name.

Fame Sensuelle remains. Not loud, not penetrating - but deep. It leaves its mark like a thought that you can't get out of your head. A kind of "I'm here" without imposing itself. A quiet dominance.

Conclusion:
For women who don't need to shout to be heard. For those who change spaces with every step. And for all those who know that true sensuality is quiet.

Top fragrance!