Moritz1988

Since I had never tried a fragrance with the theme of banana before, I was extremely curious about this new release from L'Artisan Parfumeur. And what can I say given the name Bana Banana: You want banana, you get banana... and indeed a whole, intensely fragrant bunch of bananas.

While I initially imagined the banana to lean towards a tropical-sweet, somewhat dense and sultry direction (I could have just read the entire fragrance pyramid), the Bana Banana banana (please repeat that three times quickly) is dressed in a very prominent iris-powder veil. So, anyone expecting an intrusive, syrupy-sweet artificial banana can rest assured. Thanks to the iris and other slightly floral hints, likely attributed to jasmine, the fruit loses some of its authenticity, but remains distinctly recognizable and dominant as a medium-ripe, possibly even slightly green banana. Only after quite a while does the tonka bean timidly make its presence known, without the leading banana ever taking its leave.

Bana Banana fits perfectly for spring and can fully unleash its strength on moderately warm days. Since banana scents are anything but mainstream, this perfume allows for a highly creative and individual expression. In terms of sillage and longevity, the fragrance performs only moderately, making it quite wearable indoors as well. However, one must also be clear: You definitely smell like banana. Whether one wants that or not is something everyone must decide for themselves. Personally, I like the scent, but it would quickly become annoying if worn too often. On laid-back days, when you don't take yourself too seriously (and perhaps when there isn't an important business meeting or job interview on the horizon), this fragrance can definitely bring joy to you and the monkey troop around you.

With such a name, the interest of the discerning perfume lover is almost inevitably piqued. Since I am also a big fan of sweet scents and can appreciate vanilla quite a bit, I had to get a decant.

What surprised me right from the first test is that this fragrance - contrary to what one might expect from the house of Initio and its name - comes across as quite monothematic. For me, Absolute Aphrodiasac remains a vanilla scent from start to finish. The castoreum (which had previously caused me some concern) turns out to be harmless and only adds a subtly animalic note to the top notes. The white flowers can hardly be sensed at all.

As the fragrance develops, the vanilla remains the dominant note, although in the first hour the leather shyly peeks through now and then, before completely fading away. The dominant vanilla is a smooth, feather-soft, and never scratchy feel-good vanilla that, having shed its animalic top note, comes across as quite tame and more cuddly-innocent than sultry-seductive. Even the musk, which gradually becomes more recognizable, does not add any dramatic twist to this cozy-sweet overall composition.

As for the often-mentioned cotton candy: Yes, I can also recognize this, although for me the association of a velvety-plush vanilla bed remains distinctly more pronounced.

So is this, as the name implies, the unrestrained seducer whose allure one (man or woman) cannot resist? Certainly not. What you do get with Absolute Aphrodiasac is an inviting, gently attractive vanilla scent that is particularly enticing for cozy and beautiful hours together, especially in dreary weather.

After I really enjoyed Fico di Amalfi from the same house, I set out to test another summer fragrance contender from the blue line of Acqua di Parma.

Upon spraying, a truly authentic orange note immediately emerges, accompanied by some subtle mandarin notes in the background. This is less about a ripe, sweet orange and more about a slightly greenish, citrus-scented Mediterranean fruit still hanging on the orange tree. For me, this immediately evokes the association of leisurely wandering through a densely populated orange grove on a moderately warm spring day somewhere in the Italian countryside.

As natural and summery-refreshing as the orange may seem, it quickly dissipates after about a short hour on my skin, and my spring stroll comes to an abrupt end. What remains is a rather herbaceous-bitter petitgrain skin scent, which becomes almost imperceptible after another 1.5 hours.

While Arancia di Capri certainly deserves credit for its successfully crafted unsweetened, authentic orange note, which should not fail to provide a refreshing, never overpowering effect in high summer temperatures, the fragrance's disappointingly short longevity and projection, even for a citrus scent, and the less appealing heart/base note after the initially beautiful 45 minutes of orange, prevent it from exceeding a mediocre rating for me. With similarly weak performance, Fico di Amalfi is the clearly more beautiful and extraordinary summer fragrance.

No fragrance comes closer to a real, sweet-scented dessert for me than my favorite gourmand, Tom Ford Noir Extreme. Once sprayed, it feels as if you are carrying an extremely delicious, albeit very rich (and sugary!) vanilla-caramel pudding dessert with you all day long.

What captivates me as a lover of sweet and gourmand fragrances about this Tom Ford is its uniqueness. I can't think of any fragrance that is even remotely comparable. While this scent definitely stands out from the crowd, it simultaneously maintains an extremely cozy, inviting, and soft-hearted aura around the wearer in my opinion. Of course, this Tom Ford requires an olfactory openness to sweet treats, but it never comes off as overpowering or cheap-sweet. Compared to many of its siblings from the Private Blend line, I find this one to be significantly less polarizing while still being of equally high quality in terms of ingredients.

Over the course of its above-average longevity, the fragrance remains relatively linear. It simply smells wonderful of vanilla, a caramel note, nutmeg, and some (subtly used) other harmonious oriental spice notes. After the initial burst, you can also tell that the sweet dish Kulfi is a milk dessert. The sweet, milky note is not at all bothersome; rather, it adds additional authenticity to the fragrance and creates the illusion of actually having such a dessert in front of you on the plate.

Conclusion: Noir Extreme never fails to make my mouth water and create an extremely pleasant scent aura around me that positively stands out to those around me. Due to its simultaneous uniqueness, longevity, and creativity, I give it 10 out of 10 points.

First, I must preface my comment by saying that I fell in love with the Argentine capital, Buenos Aires, many years ago during two extended stays. Along with this unwavering love for the Argentine capital came a fondness for a brew that is almost ubiquitous in the Rio de la Plata region: mate - which, due to its bitterness, often elicits the funniest facial contortions among European palates during an initial tasting. We are, of course, talking about the real deal, made from chopped and then smoked leaves of the mate plant (which, by the way, belongs to the cactus family) and consumed as a hot beverage in a so-called calabash through a metal straw. The raw material for this drink, which, in my opinion, bears little resemblance to the mate refreshment drinks that have become fashionable here, is yerba mate. The daily enjoyment of traditional mate has become an integral part of my life since my first stay in Argentina, accompanying me with its calming, concentration-enhancing, and simultaneously invigorating effects throughout each of my days. Why am I telling you this? Well, mate is listed as one of the three main notes in the new release from Louis Vuitton.

So, to finally get to the fragrance Cactus Garden after this lengthy prologue: My expectation of receiving a wearable mate in fragrance form was unfortunately greatly disappointed. After spraying the sample on my arm, I consciously alternated sniffing the sprayed skin, my calabash with freshly brewed mate, and even my current 1kg pack of yerba mate (Nobleza Gaucha, my favorite Argentine yerba) for good measure. Unfortunately, I could not detect any similarities. Instead, what I get from Cactus Garden in the first half hour is a weak, barely perceptible citrus note that hardly knocks me off my socks and quietly reminds me of the, in my opinion, better (and significantly cheaper) Artisan Pure by John Varvatos. I do not perceive any powdery notes, which is why the classification of the fragrance as fresh-powdery does not quite make sense to me.

However, it would be unfair to judge the fragrance solely based on the boring top note. For in the drydown, Cactus Garden develops much more beautifully, and while it is still not mate, the lemongrass with a hint of bergamot becomes increasingly apparent. However that may be, it seems to me that the sillage - which was hardly noticeable in the top note - now unfolds much better, and the fragrance can now be perceived, albeit faintly, not just when directly sniffing the sprayed area.

All in all, however, it is a rather unspectacular and fleeting unisex spring/summer fragrance for the price, which, while pleasantly bergamot-lemon-grassy, will not disturb anyone but, in my opinion, offers nothing new and fails to present what it does offer in any standout manner. The shy fresh-citrusy lemongrass note lingers on my skin for about four hours before Cactus Garden fades into a subtly sweet-woody base note like many citrus fragrances do. The search for the olfactory essence of my liquid life elixir, mate, must therefore continue.