NikEy

Lavender fields in the glow of the low-hanging, golden-orange late summer sun.
Dried sweet grasses in the lukewarm, steady, melancholic wind.
Patchouli-scented light brown earth connects the elements on the horizon.

Jicky is everything that was, is everything that is, and everything that will forever be.
Like a comforting warm embrace, a consistently reliable constant in life and an eternally faithful companion.

Jicky is the perfection and the end of what perfume and the art of perfumery can achieve.
Like a unique moment, experienced in rich feeling rather than narrow thinking.

Jicky is the end of the search.
Is a moment of absolute contentment.
A moment of absolute happiness.
Jicky is everything that remains.

Anyone who spends a considerable amount of time with perfumes and the background of their creation will surely know: the pyramid we are presented with is not always aligned with the actual ingredients of a fragrance. Not only is a large number of fragrance components not listed at all (otherwise, the pyramid would scare many away), but often the listed notes are more of a chord of various fragrance substances than individual natural or synthetic ingredients.

Considering these two aspects, that one can smell more or less than what is indicated in the pyramid, blind tests are naturally even more fun. This is also the case with French Affair.

The scent starts with a sweet-sour fruit with distinctly green notes. The type of fruit is quickly identified and quite clear: RHUBARB! Fresh, tart - only due to the sweetness did my thoughts briefly drift towards apple, but no, it remains rhubarb.
Quickly, bright musk moves into the heart of the fragrance, to which a warm-ambered background noise joins after a short time. The combination of both creates - especially towards the end of the fragrance development - a subtly sweet-powdery impression, although the tart rhubarb always provides a certain freshness. And the really extremely high dosage of musk (don’t get me wrong, everything here is soft and not prickly-synthetic) unfortunately reminds me of the typical Douglas scent mix in the women's department. This is why I would have categorized French Affair as mainstream in a blind test.

I am all the more surprised by the official pyramid of the perfume. Rose, moss, vetiver … all aspects that I did not perceive at all. There is even talk of Chypre in the classification and statements. Not at all, for me the scent is an uncomplicated summer refresher with a soft base that reminds me of many well-known women's fragrances.
And the conclusion? Blind testing is fun and brings one or two surprises that you would never have expected. So feel free to have some numbered samples sent to you by perfume-loving friends...

I love the way Delphine Thierry composes fragrances. Sensual lightness, an almost ethereal-floating overall composition that still carries an intensity not to be underestimated. Condottiere immediately reveals her style and instantly transports you to spring. The green in the gardens grows, buds form, and the wondrous world of flowers bursts forth and rains down upon us. Pastel white lilac lays a gentle, blooming leather robe over us...

Condottiere starts with a scent reminiscent of a memory conjured by a friend: violet-blueberry jam. Fortunately, in the perfume, it is almost entirely without the jammy sweetness; the berries are beautifully integrated and support the dark violet aspects of the bloom. A dry, but not carroty iris and delicate suede aspects make it clear that we are not dealing with a sweet violet interpretation. No, they create an edge that, for me, makes the fragrance completely unisex.
At the very beginning, I perceive a dry-corporeal note that could indeed be angelica, as I know it from the thematic scent of Malle. This image is not dirty but rather provides a grainy-sandy background noise. Over the course of the fragrance, this subtle corporeality settles, becomes cleaner, and conjures the image of white sheets, drying in the wind, in my mind. Constantly presenting the garden as a fragrant setting, the fragrance never loses its powdery-fresh and violet-flower base character.

Condottiere is not brutal, natural-forceful, or dark - but fine, artistic, and perfectly composed. It is fresh, cool, and full of life, even though violets always contribute a certain melancholy. I am particularly pleased with the well-balanced intensity of the perfume - as I have encountered too many lately that have overwhelmed me with their longevity and projection even the next morning.

or: how perfume and happiness are connected.

...and so here I am now - in the middle of the city - in quiet greenery. In front of me, still withered reeds rustling softly in the wind. Above me, the spring sun shining through a hazy veil onto the earth. In my hand, a good book, the park bench like an ever-present place of tranquility. And on my neck and wrist, these few drops of Le Sillage Blanc...

The perfection of the day, the perfection of the fragrance, everything is right. The leather jacket provides the right warmth and the right olfactory complement to nature and scent. Not that Dusita is a leather fragrance, no. But a hint of it can be felt in the heart of the green. Le Sillage Blanc embodies the cool aspects of nature. Pastel-colored, refreshingly spring-like yet darkly aromatic green tones. A strictness shaped by galbanum, which is almost entirely lifted by lightness. Oakmoss as the embodiment of the dense, mossy-wooded view, a hint of dirt and leather. The airy freshness makes me think of vetiveryl acetate and Iso-E-Super, but I cannot verify these thoughts based on the pyramid.

Classifying Le Sillage Blanc is difficult: aromatic-green, modern chypre reinterpretation probably fits. It is characterized by its slenderly composed nature. It is dry, yet at the same time watery. It doesn’t flaunt notes, it is never extravagant. This suggests that it will wear excellently even in warm weather, and I will definitely test that soon!

Creating a reinterpretation based on something already existing always leaves room for the shadow of the past and for criticism. But it also honors the greatness of the original, elevating the creativity of the original creator to a new level. Although Chanel does not mention a reference here, many of you perfume lovers may have encountered a truly great perfume classic that was one of the founders of its genre: citrus, powder, vanilla, and resin. A pioneer of the Western definition of the Orient: Shalimar!

The structure of Le Lion and its comparison to Guerlain's Shalimar came to my mind immediately after spraying. Especially the radiant citrus top note combined with powder and resin creates a clear connection for me right away. It is more the overall structure than the individual notes. With labdanum, Chanel manages to integrate a completely different variation of resin. Often relatively harsh and naturally with a dirty, grimy quality, the resin of cistus here gives a distinct, almost masculine bass. The combination with vanilla can best be described as a risqué (smoky) dark powder à la Chanel DNA. It draws clearer edges than the opoponax in Shalimar, which can also come across as animalistic in its own way. Whether the subtly earthy tones are more attributable to labdanum or patchouli, I cannot determine, but I do perceive a flattering impression of suede that comes without significant influence from classic synthetics.

I like the reference to Guerlain's classic. Le Lion feels darker, sharper, and overall more modern. Unisex and definitely for all men who may not have dared to wear Shalimar before, but actually liked it.
As a small downside, I personally notice only the very intense sillage, which is almost atypical for a Chanel Exclusif and makes the fragrance relatively difficult to dose. A slightly more subtle impression would have been more elegant and would have suited it well.