MarieLaVie

I stood at the Chanel Desk and found Beige to be boringly floral, almost an "everyday scent." Next to it were 31 Rue Cambon and Coromandel, as well as Sycomore, and against these fragrances, Beige seemed flat. A spritz on my thumb, I didn't want to give Beige any more space. The surprise came much later when I began to perceive a soft, creamy delicacy that I really liked: a lightly floral honey has something very intimate about it, almost a bit like the scent of clean, well-groomed skin. I wanted to test it further!

Beige moved in as a 10ml sample, but it just didn't work out. The new "roommate" somehow felt suspicious to me. It was as if I were standing in front of a refined woman and had the feeling that she could be a real beast and have the connections to turn your fate from good to bad, without any evidence, because apart from a slight smile, she showed no expression. She is always nice.

Sometimes Beige was too present for me; the soapiness in the top notes screamed "Chanel!" and it just wouldn't yield to the beautiful honey note that I hoped for every time;
On other days, there was hardly anything to notice about Beige, longevity and sillage were minimal, the scent lingered like a ghost in the rooms;
Most of the time, however, I struggled with the fact that Beige had a different style and came across as incredibly floral: warm, almost exotic flowers. Instead of a beach feeling, I always had the impression that I wasn't doing justice to this fine, clean sea of blossoms. As if I had to constantly pay attention to sit a bit straighter and express myself more nicely.

I gave up, Beige moved out of my four walls, and we went our separate ways.

The occasion for this comment was three new Beige samples that a friendly Chanel saleswoman recently gave me.
I approached the scent quite carelessly, knowing what to expect and how I would probably react again ("The scent is interesting, but not for you, because too clean, too fine, too floral, too beige, too business, too clear Chanel, too unstable and somehow annoyingly nice despite or precisely because of my inexplicable distrust.")
A spritz... what was THAT?! Everything mentioned above was there, all impressions, all notes, but something else mixed into the picture: a slightly musty tone, spicy-salty, an unpleasant grimace. Beige had twisted its expression, and I recoiled. Only about 20 minutes later did the old Beige reemerge, still unfitting for me.

These last three samples somehow left a disturbing impression: Beige previously evoked distrust, now the scent repels me and exudes something that makes me shudder. I have only smelled a similar note in Dans tes Bras by Frederic Malle, but there the scent is clearly declared as a mushroom paradox and not hidden under a blonde Chanel wig with a floral dress!

I don't know if the scent has changed, or if Beige is giving me a backhand for not appreciating her so highly praised noble beauty. The scent is definitely worth a test and could be a great companion for one or another person. Maybe I'm just paranoid. But Beige and I will no longer be roommates and friends in this life. I will avoid her from today on.

L'Eau d'Hiver starts fantastically: a floral, transparent scent cloud envelops me, it smells white and slightly green as if cyclamen are peeking through the snow. Cool, but not biting cold, rather gently cool: like light snowflakes landing on the hand or a slowly flowing river in winter.
What a composition! Ellena must be a wizard, so much nature and emotion, and everything is so beautifully intertwined, so complex... I dream at the beginnings of L'Eau d'Hiver and rediscover many great comments from here.

Unfortunately, yes unfortunately, the further development of the fragrance cannot keep up with the beginnings: After just a few minutes, L'Eau d'Hiver diminishes enormously. The scent loses complexity. It’s as if some levels of the fragrance pyramid collapse and are only held up by Iso E filler. The fragrance thus appears slightly synthetic and whether I want it or not, the whole picture is destroyed. As if a hint of plastic suddenly enters the beautifully natural winter scene.
L'Eau d'Hiver no longer seems cloudy dense, but rather diluted, somehow weak and loose in its structure. In some fragrances, fragility adds to the charm, but that is not the case here. L'Eau d'Hiver was pleasantly soft at the beginning, now it comes across in a sadly imperfect way, stripped of charm, thin, perforated, two-dimensional.

The idea, the "dream" L'Eau d'Hiver deserves 100%. However, due to the very disappointing development, it only amounts to a total of 70%. Such a pity.

I came to Mito Voile d'Extrait through the regular Mito, a sunny, green-fresh chypre with a light peach undertone. I liked Mito, but somehow the scent didn't work on me. Too mature, too experienced. Like a pretty woman with excellent intellect and successful soul care, who absorbs the beauty of nature for herself and radiates it at the same time.

Mito Voile d'Extrait lightens the image a bit; the scent is still green (especially the start: galbanum is clearly noticeable for the first few minutes), but otherwise, a lot of flowers have been mixed in. I smell a lot of tuberose; the scent feels feminine, strong. Almost a little exotic and with a bit more "heart" than in the regular Mito.

The descriptions online always talk about Italian gardens with statues and stone fountains. I think this fits perfectly with the original Mito, which appeals to the "cool" culture and nature enthusiast. Mito Voile d'Extrait fits in only to a certain extent, perhaps if she were accompanied by friends. She does enjoy nature and feels connected to it (the scent has nothing artificial or sticky about it), but unlike her older sister, she is not the type for hours of tranquility. The joy of life does not only take place inside; it radiates outward, is warm, wants to be seen and shared, is sociable. Mito Voile d'Extrait would probably start picking flowers and making garlands, ideally surrounded by laughing faces.
However, all this does not mean that Mito Voile d'Extrait is overly youthful and impatient. On the contrary, she is not rushed and unfolds slowly, enjoyably throughout the entire day: the longevity is phenomenal with a very pleasant sillage.

PS: Mito and Mito Voile d'Extrait have a cousin named Carnal Flower, who is also green and "cool," but compared to the two Mitos, has more passion and allure. She would probably only join the garden if it could lead to a romantic encounter. ;)

I am always surprised at how much my opinion differs from the average reviews. No, actually, it’s not that which surprises me. It’s how much the average opinion influences me subconsciously and unintentionally.

I have thought back and forth about whether to add a decant or even the wonderfully witty little bottle of 1969 to my collection.
The pros in short:
- I like the scent,
- it lasts long,
- has a pleasant sillage
- and has fit perfectly in both cold and warm weather.
- Bonus point: Compliments from friends (which, by the way, is rare).

I would describe it as "pink." Actually not my color, seriously, I don’t like pink. Never have. It’s sweet, starts with a slightly dry cocoa note, but actually transitions immediately into the peach nectar sweet heart note, which lasts and lasts and lasts. Pink, pink, pink.
But there’s something else. It’s not purely gourmand, nothing that can only be worn at Christmas. It’s not Angel, so sugary sweet that it makes you grimace and reminds you of overly smiling saleswomen with mega scent clouds.
It’s more like Reese Witherspoon in Legally Blonde. Pink, but not as silly as the first impression might suggest. A bit quirky, not the terribly boring square, and basically completely fine as long as the observer can move away from stereotypical thinking.

Does Elle Woods fit into the year 1969? That’s debatable. I wasn’t born then, and at first glance, she might remind one more of the type of girl that the hippies didn’t want to embody: Elle Woods doesn’t smoke weed and is otherwise only seen well-groomed. But she wouldn’t be the classic yuppie of the 60s either.
I dare to make the completely irrelevant claim that Elle Woods would have followed her own path back then and wouldn’t have been particularly bothered by hippie trends or conventional, stuffy customs.

Well, not everyone likes "Legally Blonde" and not everyone can free revolutionary thinking from the Woodstock peace sign. That’s okay. For the remaining slightly unconventional free thinkers, the rule is: What pleases is allowed, and Elle Woods and I wear 1969.

But back to the beginning: The bad reviews. They have actually made me wonder for the past 1 1/2 years whether I am misinterpreting something essential in the scent or smelling it differently. Worse still, whether I smell foolish when I wear the fragrance. So today I read through all the Parfumo reviews again and decided once and for all to ignore the general opinion. I may not wear pink, but 1969 and I get along wonderfully. For me, it is definitely a perfume of revolt.

Pear + Olive by Slumberhouse initially smells familiar: "I know this scent, what is it?" After a bit of pondering, it hit me: drugstore products. Shampoo with fruity notes, shower gel for the senses, perhaps reminiscent of one or two perfumes I owned as a teenager (Amor Amor).
One might think that these associations would elicit a boring shrug or even end in an almost cynical smile: "A fruity perfume? With a clean note? Goodness, I wore something like that last when I was 16..."

Far from it. There is something about Pear + Olive that works. It is simple and genius. It is not too complicated and will not scare off dear fellow citizens. Almost everyone can get on board with pear and fruit. It is green and somehow fresh, but without a watery note. More fresh like herbs. Just like a salad with lots of vegetables and herb dressing (of course with olive oil!) is fresh. It almost smells a bit like rosemary, but I wouldn't want to commit to that.

The sweetness is also hard to describe: very unisex, I would say. This is not Lutens sweetness; I can best compare it to the natural sweetness of a pear.

Overall, I can hardly pinpoint individual scent notes. It is the overall concept that works and smells good. Fruity, green, oily, a bit Mediterranean. Highly recommended!