Mayderest
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Mayderest
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Cheeky flower
---
That cheeky Bella, she's stolen the doll again! As if stung by a tarantula, Else dashes after the dog, across the gallery and down the stairs. The beech wood of the time-honored staircase creaks with every jump in protest at so much outrageous behavior.
Until a few moments ago, the dining room and the drawing room had lapsed into a sedate midday calm, letting the spring sun shine through their high windows onto the reddish-brown checkerboard parquet, when Bella comes running in with the doll in her mouth. Her long golden fur flashed in the rays of light. "Over here, Bella, now!" the girl shrieks. The noise has woken the other residents deep inside the house and a rumbling can be heard, but Else is not to be dissuaded.
Bella sprints through the drawing room onto the terrace and down the curved staircase with the tendril railing. Else rushes after her, her white dress gets caught on a bucket, which the oleander only survives by a hair's breadth. Bella runs across the large meadow and straight into the bed with the tall, white and yellow flowering shrubs, Else at her heels. She tries to grab the dog by the tail, stumbles and falls rolling into the bushes. Bella declares the game of catch over and proceeds to jump on Else, rolling around in the bushes until they are both a ball of yellow and white.
"ELSE!" her mother shouts determinedly, who has set up on the terrace, the midday sun casting harsh shadows on her face. Bella lets go of Else and the little doll and trots calmly back into the house. The girl has barely recovered when her mother's gaze hits her like a dagger, sliding up and down her body. Else looks down at herself, her white dress is covered in dirt, her socks and shoes are dirty too. "How you look again," says her mother's silent gaze, "what were you thinking?" and her latest rebuke: "You can't play with dolls at 14!" Elsa should become a lady one day, but certainly not today.
-
The flower hits you in the nose with all its might right at the beginning. Inside is what it says on the tin! Underneath it is something subtly woody, but more a premonition than a fact. It develops slightly powdery, but remains true to its promise and the start all in all.
For me a simple fragrance, without a lot of frills, reminds me of the anticipation of summer and a carefree time. The silage is average, only the durability on my skin is rather low. The bloom fades as surprisingly as it came. Memento mori.
That cheeky Bella, she's stolen the doll again! As if stung by a tarantula, Else dashes after the dog, across the gallery and down the stairs. The beech wood of the time-honored staircase creaks with every jump in protest at so much outrageous behavior.
Until a few moments ago, the dining room and the drawing room had lapsed into a sedate midday calm, letting the spring sun shine through their high windows onto the reddish-brown checkerboard parquet, when Bella comes running in with the doll in her mouth. Her long golden fur flashed in the rays of light. "Over here, Bella, now!" the girl shrieks. The noise has woken the other residents deep inside the house and a rumbling can be heard, but Else is not to be dissuaded.
Bella sprints through the drawing room onto the terrace and down the curved staircase with the tendril railing. Else rushes after her, her white dress gets caught on a bucket, which the oleander only survives by a hair's breadth. Bella runs across the large meadow and straight into the bed with the tall, white and yellow flowering shrubs, Else at her heels. She tries to grab the dog by the tail, stumbles and falls rolling into the bushes. Bella declares the game of catch over and proceeds to jump on Else, rolling around in the bushes until they are both a ball of yellow and white.
"ELSE!" her mother shouts determinedly, who has set up on the terrace, the midday sun casting harsh shadows on her face. Bella lets go of Else and the little doll and trots calmly back into the house. The girl has barely recovered when her mother's gaze hits her like a dagger, sliding up and down her body. Else looks down at herself, her white dress is covered in dirt, her socks and shoes are dirty too. "How you look again," says her mother's silent gaze, "what were you thinking?" and her latest rebuke: "You can't play with dolls at 14!" Elsa should become a lady one day, but certainly not today.
-
The flower hits you in the nose with all its might right at the beginning. Inside is what it says on the tin! Underneath it is something subtly woody, but more a premonition than a fact. It develops slightly powdery, but remains true to its promise and the start all in all.
For me a simple fragrance, without a lot of frills, reminds me of the anticipation of summer and a carefree time. The silage is average, only the durability on my skin is rather low. The bloom fades as surprisingly as it came. Memento mori.
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This is not a blue shower gel
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He had already been standing at the shelf for 30 minutes under flickering halogen spotlights. Quitescheschend he opened the one, then the other bottle. Why did it have to be so loud? He had skipped history to come here in peace. But he regretted it now, because the stiff-eyed saleswoman was already circling around him. She probably thought he wanted to steal something.
But he had a completely different problem. Which was now the right one: Ice Dive or Action Seeker? He only knew it had to be a blue bottle, he had seen Dennis in the sports bag. And apparently Dennis smelled good. He had no idea about fragrances, but Lisa did. And Lisa was of the opinion that Dennis smelled good. It bothered him that his name didn't appear in that sentence. But that was why he was here, to change that.
Suddenly he felt a strange pressure on the back of his neck. It was the stalk-eyed woman who had demonstrably lined up along the aisle. That was his cue, he took both bottles and went to the cash register.
---
The fragrance was a blind purchase, leather and rose, that can only be good, I thought. But unfortunately, the fragrance could not convince me.
At the beginning he comes with me very synthetic, then develops a bit of fruit, which I assign to the blood orange, but without the pyramid would not have recognized determined. Then he remains synthetic-undefinable-fresh-floral. Reminds with very strongly of the smell of washing stuff for men from the drugstore. Rose I can not perceive at all and the leather holds back to my sensation also arg. On the skin he makes himself definitv better than on the tester. Is quite consistent and quite close to the body, durability I would classify as above average. This is the first fragrance from the manufacturer that I have smelled. The company philosophy read quite exciting, but the fragrance is in my nose pretty uniform and simple and not as complex as I had hoped.
He had already been standing at the shelf for 30 minutes under flickering halogen spotlights. Quitescheschend he opened the one, then the other bottle. Why did it have to be so loud? He had skipped history to come here in peace. But he regretted it now, because the stiff-eyed saleswoman was already circling around him. She probably thought he wanted to steal something.
But he had a completely different problem. Which was now the right one: Ice Dive or Action Seeker? He only knew it had to be a blue bottle, he had seen Dennis in the sports bag. And apparently Dennis smelled good. He had no idea about fragrances, but Lisa did. And Lisa was of the opinion that Dennis smelled good. It bothered him that his name didn't appear in that sentence. But that was why he was here, to change that.
Suddenly he felt a strange pressure on the back of his neck. It was the stalk-eyed woman who had demonstrably lined up along the aisle. That was his cue, he took both bottles and went to the cash register.
---
The fragrance was a blind purchase, leather and rose, that can only be good, I thought. But unfortunately, the fragrance could not convince me.
At the beginning he comes with me very synthetic, then develops a bit of fruit, which I assign to the blood orange, but without the pyramid would not have recognized determined. Then he remains synthetic-undefinable-fresh-floral. Reminds with very strongly of the smell of washing stuff for men from the drugstore. Rose I can not perceive at all and the leather holds back to my sensation also arg. On the skin he makes himself definitv better than on the tester. Is quite consistent and quite close to the body, durability I would classify as above average. This is the first fragrance from the manufacturer that I have smelled. The company philosophy read quite exciting, but the fragrance is in my nose pretty uniform and simple and not as complex as I had hoped.
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Boulevard of Broken Dreams
The fragrance has given me my dear school friend Lena for my birthday. It was a very thoughtful gift, because we had recently mused a lot about our youth years and this revelry had led us to a common friend more often than not.
This friend was a classic beauty, even as a teenager, but not only that. She always managed to dress stylishly. She did not just go by trends, but had her own style, was individual and distinctive. Her style was light on her feet and everyone liked her or was in love with her. So were we. What's more, she lived in an old villa with lush rhododendron bushes. To us, she was an elf. And we were gnomes. We felt bulky, angular, our outfits eclectic to butt-ugly. We were not them.
She had a scent, of course. Several, in fact. She was the first person I knew who layered scents. To this day, I don't know anyone who can do that really well, but she just had this talent for aesthetics, which just extended to the olfactory. Many of the fragrances actually belonged to her mother, which is why they were a mix of the trends of the early noughties, but also the 80s and 90s.
But one fragrance stood out. I still remember the first time I smelled it when we were getting ready to party together. It smelled so good and warm, luxurious and mysterious. It was a fragrance for adults. Not Escada's Sexy Graffity, a sugar bomb that I was wearing at the time. I asked her what this fragrance was. She said, with naturally perfect French pronunciation, Champagne by Yyes Saint Laurent.
The fragrance was burned from this moment in my olfactory memory. I assoziete with it the woman, which I wanted to become in my dreams gladly. Rich, beautiful, sublime. Sitting in front of a fireplace with a glass of the best champagne and immersed in conversation. With a clear laugh that mixes with the exiting pearls in the glass to a radiant effervescence.
Flash forward, it's 2021 and I'm sitting with Lena over a cup of coffee unwrapping her gift. First I am amazed to curious what it has to do with the bottle. She explains to me that it is Champgner from YSL, only just renamed. I can hardly believe my eyes. This is the fragrance of my youth! (Although I never owned it). Nervously, I open the package and put a first spritz on my wrist. What feelings will come up when I smell it? Tensely I hold my nose to it and am confused. Is this really the fragrance? Somehow similar, but something is not right...
I ask Lena what she thinks about it, but she seems to recognize the scent. I push the confusion on my memory that has perhaps transfigured the fragrance over the years. I use the it occasionally, I want to like it, but this fruit bomb has nothing to do with the dry, earthy taste of champagne anymore. I do not turn into the elegenate woman at the fire, but remain just the gnome, to which one has stuck a few rhinestones. With rose, violet and the fruits Yvresse is rather the big sister of Sexy Graffity, than the mysterious potion from my youth.
The fragrance lacks the depth that distinguished the previous version, in my opinion. The durability is überdichschnittlich, but this became a problem for me over time, because I started to smell the fragrance everywhere. However, I am not a friend of sweet and fruity fragrances and the whole coupled with the bitter disappointment to get just not champagne but desert wine makes my review certainly anything but objective.
I hope you still had fun reading, for me it is namely my first contribution on Parfumo
This friend was a classic beauty, even as a teenager, but not only that. She always managed to dress stylishly. She did not just go by trends, but had her own style, was individual and distinctive. Her style was light on her feet and everyone liked her or was in love with her. So were we. What's more, she lived in an old villa with lush rhododendron bushes. To us, she was an elf. And we were gnomes. We felt bulky, angular, our outfits eclectic to butt-ugly. We were not them.
She had a scent, of course. Several, in fact. She was the first person I knew who layered scents. To this day, I don't know anyone who can do that really well, but she just had this talent for aesthetics, which just extended to the olfactory. Many of the fragrances actually belonged to her mother, which is why they were a mix of the trends of the early noughties, but also the 80s and 90s.
But one fragrance stood out. I still remember the first time I smelled it when we were getting ready to party together. It smelled so good and warm, luxurious and mysterious. It was a fragrance for adults. Not Escada's Sexy Graffity, a sugar bomb that I was wearing at the time. I asked her what this fragrance was. She said, with naturally perfect French pronunciation, Champagne by Yyes Saint Laurent.
The fragrance was burned from this moment in my olfactory memory. I assoziete with it the woman, which I wanted to become in my dreams gladly. Rich, beautiful, sublime. Sitting in front of a fireplace with a glass of the best champagne and immersed in conversation. With a clear laugh that mixes with the exiting pearls in the glass to a radiant effervescence.
Flash forward, it's 2021 and I'm sitting with Lena over a cup of coffee unwrapping her gift. First I am amazed to curious what it has to do with the bottle. She explains to me that it is Champgner from YSL, only just renamed. I can hardly believe my eyes. This is the fragrance of my youth! (Although I never owned it). Nervously, I open the package and put a first spritz on my wrist. What feelings will come up when I smell it? Tensely I hold my nose to it and am confused. Is this really the fragrance? Somehow similar, but something is not right...
I ask Lena what she thinks about it, but she seems to recognize the scent. I push the confusion on my memory that has perhaps transfigured the fragrance over the years. I use the it occasionally, I want to like it, but this fruit bomb has nothing to do with the dry, earthy taste of champagne anymore. I do not turn into the elegenate woman at the fire, but remain just the gnome, to which one has stuck a few rhinestones. With rose, violet and the fruits Yvresse is rather the big sister of Sexy Graffity, than the mysterious potion from my youth.
The fragrance lacks the depth that distinguished the previous version, in my opinion. The durability is überdichschnittlich, but this became a problem for me over time, because I started to smell the fragrance everywhere. However, I am not a friend of sweet and fruity fragrances and the whole coupled with the bitter disappointment to get just not champagne but desert wine makes my review certainly anything but objective.
I hope you still had fun reading, for me it is namely my first contribution on Parfumo
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