Nasella
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Nasella
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An Umavijani anthem
"The twilight hour comes...
Even my grief
Is swept away
By the anonymity of life"
- Montri Umavijani -
So much melancholy in so few words ...
DUSITA.
When I got to know this - for me absolutely extraordinary - brand, I was almost
enchanted and had to find out more about the background.
I was surprised by this myself, because I may or may not like a fragrance, but it very rarely touches me so much that I want to find out more about it.
Perhaps this is also because the often implausible "marketing gobbledygook" puts me off rather than bringing me closer to a fragrance.
I don't have this feeling with Dusita. On the contrary, I think I understand the fragrances better.
After testing 'Issara', probably the brand's best-known fragrance, my curiosity was piqued and I wanted to get to know the others. I ordered multiple samples of all the fragrances from Dusita to test them thoroughly.
Of course, I don't like them all, but I find each one special.
Pissara Umavijani's father Montri Umavijani (1941-2006) was a well-known contemporary poet. Of course, I didn't know him before.
Good poetry sounds like a melody and conveys feelings. Happiness, even euphoria, but also pain and sadness. That's what Pissara does for me with her fragrances. Perhaps not exactly sadness or pain, but a slight melancholy. You can sense that she probably grew up in a house where art and culture play a major role.
I wanted to test these fragrances as impartially as possible, which is rather unusual for me. That's why I tried to find out something about the art of the Umavijanis beforehand, but didn't read any reviews or statements.
All the testers were completely taped up, I didn't know which fragrance I was testing.
Four Dusitas convinced me so much that they were immediately allowed to move in with me.
Anyone who has held out until now will finally find out how I feel about 'Moonlight in Chiangmai'...
I would like to go into more detail here about the feelings this fragrance triggers in me and not analyze every single note. Because this fragrance manages to make me dream and enjoy like no other.
I don't like fragrances where I have to wait for what feels like an eternity before I like them.
i love 'Moonlight in Chiangmai' right from the start.
It starts citrusy. However, the yuzu never gives off the unpopular detergent vibe. It is quite tart, not sour and you can smell the peel rather than the juice.
Jasmine is present, but by no means indolic. An almost demure jasmine.
As a benzoin fan, I find the Siam benzoin particularly beautiful, very, very delicately scented with cocoa bean and unsweet. Spices make the fragrance exotic, but by no means oriental.
To my nose, no one fragrance stands out, they get along wonderfully and respect each other.
My beloved myrrh is certainly one of the reasons why I find this fragrance so enchanting.
I often find patchouli difficult, here it is "unmusty" and rather clean and earthy without being particularly noticeable.
Although the fragrance is listed here as woody, I don't find it that way.
Teak may be supportive, but I don't smell any of the terribly synthetic "wood" that is now unfortunately found in many fragrances.
Now I have analyzed a little...
The fragrance is listed as a men's fragrance, which is probably mainly due to the yuzu and vetiver.
For me, it is absolutely unisex.
I don't have BR vibes, these two fragrances also embody fundamentally different "ideals" for me.
With 'Moonlight in Chiangmai', did I have the association described by Pissara
"nocturnal scent of mystery that plays with the duality between light and shadow, painting a wonderful scene of a night in the city flooded with moonlight and fireflies"?
Probably not, but I immediately thought of the poem by her father Monti quoted earlier. This fragrance makes me melancholy in a beautiful way and enchants me.
Of course, knowing the perfumer's origins, I am not unbiased.
I have associations with a surreally beautiful landscape, perhaps even a Thai Shangri-La. A brief moment of retreat from this sometimes terrible world, a brief moment of olfactory happiness.
And yes, now I can also see the moonlight and the fireflies...
Even my grief
Is swept away
By the anonymity of life"
- Montri Umavijani -
So much melancholy in so few words ...
DUSITA.
When I got to know this - for me absolutely extraordinary - brand, I was almost
enchanted and had to find out more about the background.
I was surprised by this myself, because I may or may not like a fragrance, but it very rarely touches me so much that I want to find out more about it.
Perhaps this is also because the often implausible "marketing gobbledygook" puts me off rather than bringing me closer to a fragrance.
I don't have this feeling with Dusita. On the contrary, I think I understand the fragrances better.
After testing 'Issara', probably the brand's best-known fragrance, my curiosity was piqued and I wanted to get to know the others. I ordered multiple samples of all the fragrances from Dusita to test them thoroughly.
Of course, I don't like them all, but I find each one special.
Pissara Umavijani's father Montri Umavijani (1941-2006) was a well-known contemporary poet. Of course, I didn't know him before.
Good poetry sounds like a melody and conveys feelings. Happiness, even euphoria, but also pain and sadness. That's what Pissara does for me with her fragrances. Perhaps not exactly sadness or pain, but a slight melancholy. You can sense that she probably grew up in a house where art and culture play a major role.
I wanted to test these fragrances as impartially as possible, which is rather unusual for me. That's why I tried to find out something about the art of the Umavijanis beforehand, but didn't read any reviews or statements.
All the testers were completely taped up, I didn't know which fragrance I was testing.
Four Dusitas convinced me so much that they were immediately allowed to move in with me.
Anyone who has held out until now will finally find out how I feel about 'Moonlight in Chiangmai'...
I would like to go into more detail here about the feelings this fragrance triggers in me and not analyze every single note. Because this fragrance manages to make me dream and enjoy like no other.
I don't like fragrances where I have to wait for what feels like an eternity before I like them.
i love 'Moonlight in Chiangmai' right from the start.
It starts citrusy. However, the yuzu never gives off the unpopular detergent vibe. It is quite tart, not sour and you can smell the peel rather than the juice.
Jasmine is present, but by no means indolic. An almost demure jasmine.
As a benzoin fan, I find the Siam benzoin particularly beautiful, very, very delicately scented with cocoa bean and unsweet. Spices make the fragrance exotic, but by no means oriental.
To my nose, no one fragrance stands out, they get along wonderfully and respect each other.
My beloved myrrh is certainly one of the reasons why I find this fragrance so enchanting.
I often find patchouli difficult, here it is "unmusty" and rather clean and earthy without being particularly noticeable.
Although the fragrance is listed here as woody, I don't find it that way.
Teak may be supportive, but I don't smell any of the terribly synthetic "wood" that is now unfortunately found in many fragrances.
Now I have analyzed a little...
The fragrance is listed as a men's fragrance, which is probably mainly due to the yuzu and vetiver.
For me, it is absolutely unisex.
I don't have BR vibes, these two fragrances also embody fundamentally different "ideals" for me.
With 'Moonlight in Chiangmai', did I have the association described by Pissara
"nocturnal scent of mystery that plays with the duality between light and shadow, painting a wonderful scene of a night in the city flooded with moonlight and fireflies"?
Probably not, but I immediately thought of the poem by her father Monti quoted earlier. This fragrance makes me melancholy in a beautiful way and enchants me.
Of course, knowing the perfumer's origins, I am not unbiased.
I have associations with a surreally beautiful landscape, perhaps even a Thai Shangri-La. A brief moment of retreat from this sometimes terrible world, a brief moment of olfactory happiness.
And yes, now I can also see the moonlight and the fireflies...
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