Merteuil

well, again bad mood regarding this designer-schmäh, maybe i should rename my user-name to statler and waldorf, because it seems that i just want to grumble at almost all newer scent appearances - even if i am now finally enlightened after what eighty percent of the people in the berlin-mitte-'bannmeile' somewhere between acne (the swedish label, not the dermatological conspicuousness and yes, I know they have moved to the potsdamer street ) and adidas originals shopping, along with encre noir, geza schöns molecules and when it comes up sycomore (okay I have to admit he has more than just what, but skin in the same score as the latter) smell ... - because this malfaitage (word invention!) really has nothing to do with the pioneer of literary modernity and also nothing to do with arrogant, daring dandyism, or pale, bloodless and eye ringed Parisian fin-de-siecle decadence, which the makers probably wanted to oracle up here -
everything i smell, although not in this order and not listed in the fragrance pyramid, is
in DOMESTOS inlaid PFLAUMEN on a bed of charred-candied SANDELHOLZ and that in a durability and sillage that the dead denser under guarantee still in hundred years in his grave rolls to beg for a bottle of laudanum formally.

the ultimate hippie-chic perfume for pel-wearing ladies from the taunus in 1978; clean and dirty at the same time, it actually reminds of the smell of old furrier goods when they were 'politically correct' and harmless. kamille, patchouli and eichenmoos play the main roles here, the overall effect is completely different from many bernard chants of that time, which all somehow rotate around aramis and/or cinnamon.
patchouli in a completely different way, and dilutes a great ironing water (which I don't mean depektierlich)!

an olfactory reconstruction of a wooden baroque roof chair under shimmering summer heat, paired with the smells of raisins iron on heated skin under a damp batist, withering rose leaves floating in a glass of chateau petrus - the name is program and a journey through time

i place this fragrance somewhere between givenchy gentleman (without the zibet) and a flat eau du fier (which unfortunately has long since been taken off the market) without its jus de veau- o. smoked ham - aspect and campfire-realism, to which one added a plaster note - interesting statement, which obviously winked in the direction of tom Ford's golden design-era and would like to prove its reference to the texan grandmaster of porn chic, in order to make the meanwhile rollicking image of the house hereby self-confidently postmodern and tasty for a new and young generation. unfortunately the perfume lacks some juice and 'dirt' to make it more three-minimal and natural ...
anyway: hat off to a fragrance that finally dares to get by without sugar!
p.s.
could work wonderfully as a base under other leather and patchouli perfumes