Meggi

Cierge de Lune. A cactus that blooms at night, therefore also called "Queen of the Night". But the name not only alludes to the plant - whose scent I don't know anyway - but also explicitly to the Mozart figure

It seems to me that this is a preliminary to the discussion, but a reference to the notorious Hell Aria with its top notes is completely out of place. I don't feel any "crystalline high notes" in the fragrance, as the manufacturer says - the biting of the transport alcohol is hardly meant. In case you don't know the piece: there are a lot of recordings available online. The spectrum ranges from the spectacularly gruesome performance by Florence Foster-Jenkins (youtube.com/watch?v=ZD-_2QEXCRk - the record has been circulating in "extended circles of experts" for decades, not just since the film) to world-class recordings, of which the one by the untimely deceased Lucia Popp deserves special mention (youtube.com/watch?v=Zt56hgQe1co).

No, no, even the comparatively subdued aria "O tremble not, my dear son!" (youtube.com/watch?v=aJA1dFqr1QI) is daring in this respect. If at all Magic Flute, I could think of the more lyrical Pamina from their staff. It's just a little bit more relaxed, it fits better...

...to the fragrance: Delicate, tamely vanilla on a thin leather base. Including a... dusty, stony look? Flintstone, freshly gassed? Just a spark of an idea. If these were said "high notes," they were from Mrs Foster-Jenkins' throat. But definitely there is a bit of bitterness as a compensator. This has, in order to spin out the thread of "wild" leather, what of the soft muff of a game dish, venison goulash with cranberries perhaps, a touch of fruity and sour is also involved.

And honey, on further tests I find him to be a class leading man of the first hour. In combination with a sweet smokiness, which I know from the style of 03.Apr.1968 from Rundholz. Including a certain "sting" that gives the aforementioned touch of fruit a slight aura of morbidity. It is quite conceivable that a plant of more southern climes attracts such nocturnal flutterers.

Interim conclusion: Overall, I had expected significantly more vanilla.

The second phase of the fragrance shows a completely different face. In the course of the morning it develops airy and distant. Only a hint of the former sweetness remains, which from a distance reminds of baking aroma. Tart, but by no means dark vanilla gradually takes over and drifts in a dusty, dull direction. Its immanent is at the same time something waxy, even with a slight hint of plastic.

In the afternoon an intermezzo forms on the skin in the form of a floral undertone, almost like fruit candy rose. But soon we return to our dusty-unsweet vanilla, in which, apart from a trace of smoke, leathery aspects can still be discovered. I am thinking more and more of light wood. The scent lasts until the evening, there are occasional honey reminiscences flickering

Conclusion: literally at any given moment, I feel like I've smelled all this at Cierge de Lune, and not just once. Nevertheless, the fragrance is simply successful and in the endurance of its high-quality appearance certainly a test tip.

I thank MisterE for the rehearsal. I gave the rest of it to my son (12), who loves vanilla scents and was really happy. One morning he came out of the bathroom even more impishly than usual - he had sprayed himself with it. I don't want him to go to school... Now that I think about it, why? He's got good taste, this kid

My last English teacher (advanced course 1987-1990) was a rather unconventional type, at least at a time-honoured humanistic grammar school with centuries of tradition. A rocker (and jazzman!), for example, who didn't mind if who was not usable in the first two hours on Saturday morning due to the Friday evening party. The person was then simply left alone.

Once Mr. B. gave us back the 4-hour written exam on Saturday, which we had only written the previous Thursday: "You cannot believe how many cigarettes that cost me! Camel without filter, by the way. We willingly accepted one or two blurs in his corrections, because he basically decided in dubio pro discipulis and was not stingy with points.

One day he opened the lesson with: "Wow, last Saturday they were running 'Wetten, dass...?' and it was so bad again that my wife went into labor and had a baby Afterwards he distributed chocolates for the ladies and cigars for the gentlemen - but explicitly he also liked to do the other way round! It was one of those coincidences, which could not be better imagined, that just at that moment the head teacher entered the room. Our headmaster was... well, he was the headmaster of a venerable humanistic grammar school with centuries of tradition. He put the matter away astonishingly easily - but was content with a chocolate according to regulations

Mr. B. had a differentiation of vocabulary ready for our occupation with Gothic Novels, which should make two different levels of horror namable. "Horror" was at the top of the scale of horror, "terror" was the more or less tolerable, attenuated form. We need this thought later, now first to the fragrance:

Tar? Moderate at best, no comparison to the birch bomber 'Hyde'. Pepper, whatever. A little saffron muff is plausible. I immediately think of vetiver from the smoky corner, quickly and also flanked by warm, honey-like (incense) smoke. If desired, a hint of liquorice may be hinted at, a jagged note more clearly a papery note, presumably fed by vetiver.

Kyphi is a bottomless pit, because according to Wikipedia it is an ancient Egyptian incense, which can contain not only the usual suspects, but also flowers, fruit and honey and many other things, which are also listed here - or could be. In short: The term stands for all sorts of things that can be smoked and pyramidally kills practically everything.

Sounds like there's a terrible kako-osmia going on. Not at all. Rather, 'Terror & Magnificence' offers a homogeneous mixture, in which it is possible to recognize one or the other detail, but none of them plays itself into the foreground. The scent remains astonishingly close to the skin; no nagging from my wife, who usually reacts very ungraciously to my smoking manikin attitudes

The development of fragrances is also manageable. In the afternoon I would describe the candidate primarily as a character-full, smoky vetiver (ylacetate) scent with rubber applications. A dash of sweetness refines: honey, perhaps amber, each varieties of the smoke fraction. Gradually the companions move further forward and quote more and more openly sweet smokers like the below mentioned 'Sahara Noir' by Tom Ford. Judging by the silent silence of the Sillage, the timid 'Larmes du Désert' from the Atelier des Ors could of course also be considered as a partial reference.

A trace of vanilla is still in my mind. And finally, in the last few hours, I smell a final contribution from Chocolate Patchouli, which makes me think of 'Sandor 70's' from afar. Maybe mainly because I think it's so great and have worn it a lot in the past weeks. Nevertheless, I am happy to discover at least a little bit of this here.

Conclusion: If horror is the horror and terror is the scary, then the so-called terror from 'Terror & Magnificence' is roughly limited to a feeling as if a book read in a cozy environment is about telling someone something about a cuddly creepy story.

Far from the encroachment of some other Beauforts. Nevertheless, a beautiful, successful, quite clothing scent, which, however, lacks unique selling points.

My thanks go to M3000 for sharing.

"Never contradict a woman - wait till she does it herself." As entertaining as this aphorism is, in its daily practical application it falls short of the mark, because for lasting success it would require appropriate insight. But as everyone knows: "...she never gives in. She just changes her mind."

The gradual maturation of such knowledge over the years of a partnership is undoubtedly desirable. However, if you are married (and I know what I'm talking about) to a "specimen" for whom 'stubborn' or 'pigheaded' can still be considered euphemistic, then if you follow the letter by letter, you will eventually sedate the whole event (and yourself!). The keywords 'purifying thunderstorm' and 'self-respect' should be kept in mind: Sometimes you have to let it come to a bang knowingly and deliberately, yes: in individual cases you even have to aim at it deliberately.

Pelargonium now gets stuck quite far ahead in this train of thought. It could be understood as a vaporized embodiment of a prosperous coexistence of feminine and masculine aspects - lipstick iris and men's spice. But then he would have lost a certain inner tension due to the (increasingly one-sided; see below) thriftiness. The one or the other peaceable companion of the two mentioned does the rest.

Even from the tube it not only smells of carrot, but also, I imagine, a lot of ISO-fresh. After application, the said carotenous iris is quickly accompanied by a men's spice, as muscatel sage and rose geranium are able to provide in a comparable character. The pepper is especially noticeable with a little distance from the skin. Mixes merrily with the subliminal limonady-woody freshness and is consequently more airy than spicy.

Our men's spice is by no means stinky or musty, on the contrary: gentle hints of warm spice and fruit create a homely atmosphere. There is also a soft, mossy, foamy, soapy touch on board, which underlines the general civilization and good order ("Yes, honey!"). I feel as if a basically conservative men's fragrance has been given a feminine stamp by lipstick iris, which in turn is somewhat artificial due to the synthetic additives

I also smell a diffuse-floral note and a well-designed artificial wood (cashmeran?) greets me from the underground. Accessories. A contribution by Vetiver from midday onwards also fails to develop any significant conciseness.

If the focus of the fragrance were indeed to be an interplay of more masculine and more feminine components, this would not be complete. Although (after a roughly balanced beginning) the iris successively outweighs the geranium, an impression which, by the way, increased from test day to test day, it still does not succeed in developing an original "splendour" - what an allegory! I suspect that the chemistry keeps the lady perseveringly fresh, but in return robs her of her characteristic bitterness. How much more exciting is the contrast in Iris Bleu Gris by Maître Parfumeur et Gantier. It's where the shreds practically fly!

It can be objected that such a thing would probably not correspond to the (as it seems to me) ethereal basic arrangement of the house of Aedes de Venustas. Maybe, but now I'm somehow stuck with "office fresh spice", which - as pleasant and fine as it is - doesn't stand out much from my point of view. Of course it is beautiful nevertheless, and you can discover a lot in it.

I know three of eight fragrances from Aedes de Venustas so far, and I still have one more sample. I think Copal Azur is great, Iris Nazarena seemed to me to be too grouchy in its pale hue, therefore less successful. Pelargonium is right in between. An "ever-right". I'm curious about Cierge de Lune

Bottom line: No, honey!

The Russian winter with its long, cold nights is an excellent reason to get drunk. And in summer, there are others. But it was winter. Besides, a troop of young people on a trip to Russia needs no reason to pour plenty of the cheap local distillate flora on the lamp.

My buddy and I had wisely learned even the Russian capital letters. After all, it's not much use for you - fueled by the snow-covered city at night - to know that you live in "Prospekt Tschaikowskogo" if you can't read the sign, even though you're probably standing right in front of it. And to sink outside is not a good idea when temperatures are clearly in double digits below zero.

Snow in Russia. I cannot serve with Siberia in this respect, but snow is part of my available memories in the Russian metropolis (Moscow), in the middle city (Tver; by our standards a big city) and in the countryside. Alone: I can't associate any of this with the scent.

Even the opening is creamy-sweetish-scenic on the one hand, sourish-bitter-rough on the other. The freshness of mint is at best a hint or a hint, but the fragrance is rather surrounded by an ethereal touch of conifer. In addition there is band-aid-smoke and with it the fellow seems to me at first to take a similar way as some other Americans, I think concretely of 'Wazo' from the house Monsillage or Sonomas 'Incense Pure'.

But then: Jasmine. Primarily the sensual, heavy direction, which nonetheless cultivates an undeniable hint of a deeper stink, which does not become as pointedly pointed as elsewhere, but rumbles underground. The combination of jasmine and frankincense, by the way, has a zero-command oriental effect. Here it remains more rustic, more down to earth

What then takes place "down there" between jasmine and civet could become the object of offensively excited whispers from the neighbours, if an unpleasant diffuse mugginess were not involved too soon. After some thought, I attribute it to early wood in combination with the rest of the strict jasmine part. It smells mouldy. And the progress of the project also puzzles me. After half an hour, stuffy amber comes to my mind, as intentionally kept dull. What's the point of that? Again, a grouchy jasmine may be involved.

Only a certain labdanum-animalik after two hours could be conceptually sorted over three corners. Her character is not far away from the dirty performances in Oud Ispahan or Cuir Garamante. Only without the rose and leather. And a lot quieter. Hm... When it finally thaws after nine months of permafrost in Siberia, maybe the remains of the local tigers will come out as a vintage stink ?

At noon the mind games end. Now the wood is in front and lets the scent fade away, so to speak. Siberian Snow' is no longer able to detach itself from this rail. And since the front part already appeared to me to be quite mixed, the only thing left to me is the following...

...conclusion: one of the weaker Durgas. Still neat, at least not unexciting, of course. But compared to his siblings I know he falls off. Strangely indecisive and at times downright musty. Pity

I thank Jumi for the rehearsal.

The doctor warned me to watch my weight. Never has such care been taken. Recently, for example, I ate a family pack of fried fish for dinner. Four pieces of 100 grams each of 175 calories, makes 700 calories. Plus Danish tartar sauce. It will have been four tablespoons, so another 150 calories will have been added easily. For dessert, we had a portion of profiteroles. About a quarter of the package content of 450 grams to 277 calories per 100 grams I have eaten, makes dawdling once again a good 300 calories.

In total, about 1,200 calories. Tight performance for one evening, I think. The doctor will be very pleased with my efforts. After all, it's not my fault that none of this works. Every year around Christmas time, I bravely try to gain a few kilos via goose, dumplings, sweets etc., but I can hardly even manage 65. Not much in just one-sachust-length - and within a few days everything is gone anyway, down to 60th I still use the first belt I bought myself at the tender age of perhaps 15 years, in the mid-eighties

If we were at a perfume convention right now, I might have been killed long ago. Now I'm also stopping - and simply recommending 'Stardust': the fragrance for sophisticated enjoyment without calories.

The emphasis is on "sophisticated", because there are many sweet bombs, but not seldom with a brutal caries danger on the meta-level. In this case, the trick is the great balance that is maintained from beginning to end, to anticipate this immediately. As a real pleasure scent, 'Stardust' arouses little motivation to trace the individual aromas in a particularly filigree way, but a few things are worth mentioning:

Orange and dark chocolate opened. Deliciously fruity and tart. And so lifelike, it's astounding. The equalizer is a green-sour impact. And to be on the safe side, the chocolate is quickly lined and roughened, probably by (cocoa) patchouli. Great gourmand chord that nevertheless skilfully avoids the all too sweet.

The vanilla is subtle and tart, dark and voluminous. I have already experienced elsewhere that she can almost touch the smoky parts, it seems like that here too. Gradually it dissolves the chocolate, the orange stays a little longer and only dims away very gradually. A waxy airy breeze now helps to ensure that the thing is neither too sweet nor too edible.

It is not until later in the morning that the pyramid-like, expected jubilation takes place, a delicate, caramel-sugary note is carefully added, finely sanded down by a floral-fruity rest and our wax. The various other additions I can imagine more or less well,

In any case, as is usually the case with Neuffer, the fact that new participants enter the pitch does not necessarily mean that those already present leave it. Throughout the afternoon and into the evening, vanilla, cocoa, wax and fruit residues float around each other in ever-changing weightings. This leads to different nuances from one day to the next. A somewhat weaker dosage makes the funfair part of my work subtle, for example.

Conclusion: a successful round trip. The fact that such things will never be completely "mine" doesn't matter

Today I thank my son three times: First of all, I thank my son for letting me try the specimen he received from the 'Stardust' creator herself - this is my second thank you - in order to contribute a real gem to his clearly arranged, but quite exclusive vanilla fragrance (mostly specimens) collection. He likes the fragrance very much, although he prefers to take a tine to Guerlain's 'Spiritueuse Double Vanille'. I can't blame him, a Neuffer fragrance is unquestionably a challenge for a twelve-year-old.

And thirdly, I would like to thank all the dear people here and wish everyone a wonderful Christmas season.