NorthLight

Who dares, Knappersmann or Ritt,
to gulp in this dive?
I have a golden flacon with me,
which I will now throw into the belly of the sea!

Whoever brings it back to me, you men and boys,
shall receive a whole barrel of the scent!

The cup flew.
The whirlpool pulled
it down into the dreadful deep.

The men looked on,
as they were horrified,
away. … and once again the king called:
Who dares, Knippersmann or Ratt,
to suck in this tund?

Whoever dares … I declare it under oath
may spray with the scent's knob.
Will receive a chunk of gold!
And he may also keep the flacon!

Then the men
and squires slinked away.
Soon they were all gone.
They knew for sure:
the scent is dreadful!
The flacon still lies down there today…

My thanks go to Heinz and Friedrich for the high-spirited preparation.

A little flashback to the mid-60s.

It was that time again. A haircut was due. The trend of sparing use of comb and scissors had not yet fully reached Germany. The model for men's haircuts was still provided by the American GIs. This meant nothing other than as short as possible, just shy of bald. Commonly referred to as "Mecki." Probably also in reference to the spiky glory of the HörZu hedgehog. My hair had exceeded the length of half a matchstick. That was already extremely long, and action was urgently required.

So I set off to Erich, who, together with his wife, ran a local hair salon. I approached a typical commercial building, constructed and designed in the 50s. The business premises were located on the ground floor, above which were residential apartments.

Upon opening the door, one entered a foyer adorned with various pictures, display cases, etc., showcasing suggestions for a contemporary haircut, at least for the ladies. The air was filled with hairspray from the ladies' salon, where the heaters and fans of the drying hoods ensured that even the last corner was steeped in these scents. The whole place still had a hint of the 50s. The 60s didn't just fall from the sky.

From the foyer, two large rooms branched off, separated by arches with curtains. Fortunately, I was allowed to turn left immediately and entered the men's salon. On the left side, there was a bench, in front of it a large table with all sorts of magazines and other reading materials, so one could pass the waiting time. The room continued in a tubular shape and had three "treatment spots," serviced by Erich and his employee Hubert.

On the wall, in front of each styling chair, there was a large mirror with a big marble ledge and a built-in washbasin. The chairs had a large round base with various levers and buttons. The seats were made of heavy leather, and there was a headrest adorned with a paper roll.

The customer before me was finished. Erich stepped on the large lever and released air. The chair lowered, allowing for a comfortable stand-up. The paper roll on the headrest was turned further. Through a large clamp, the seat of the chair was lifted and rotated. With a satisfying sound, it fell back into position. This way, one did not sit in the "warmth" of the chairman. I was allowed to take a seat. With a few presses on a lever, air was pumped, and the chair, squeaking a bit, rose up. There were no questions about the type of desired cut; it was clear. So Erich got to work. When my hair reached the "desired" Mecki length, a back mirror was briefly held up, and Erich stepped on the lever at the foot of the chair, pffff!, down we went again.

What does this have to do with the scent? Up to this point... absolutely nothing. I just wanted to provide a small, hopefully entertaining impression of the world of men's hairdressing back then.

But Erich's salon had more than just visual impressions to offer. When one pushed the curtain aside upon entering, they left the world of hairspray behind. Suddenly, a warm, lavender-scented air became noticeable. In Erich's salon, shaving was also done. For this purpose, a few towels lay on a warming plate, and after each shave, a splash of soothing lavender water was applied to the face, along with the warmed towel, serving to calm and soothe the skin, which had been tormented by shaving. This very scent is what Aigner N°2 exudes.

Every time I wear this fragrance, I step into Erich's salon.

… my colleague René, with his muscular upper body and his unruly curly hair (Imagine the power version of Atze Schöder, who was still completely unknown at that time.), held the advertisement page of a magazine in front of my face.

The Chanel Egoiste and now also as Platinum. The “dark-spicy” Egoiste from the sandalwood cabinet was, for whatever reason, not my friend … and now there’s a Platinum version. The thought made me shudder.

It was 1993. Just checking Parfumo to see what might be coming was not yet an option. The electronic communication tools, from today’s perspective, were rather primitive. There were desktop PCs, and those who could afford it already had a laptop. However, the internet was still quite tricky. The convenience of Windows95 was still a bit far off. Connecting with a modem… If you wanted “color,” you looked at the weather maps.

Just grabbing a mobile phone … was almost utopian. Very important people already had a D-network phone, in the form of a thick bone, hanging around their necks. However, there were still no cell towers visible in the landscape. To communicate with it, you needed a Birdie nearby. These (looked like an upside-down triangular pyramid) were found, very sparsely distributed, on one or another phone booth. It was not widespread. Besides the purchase costs for the device, the call price was not exactly cheap.

I remember scenes at the Munich Viktualienmarkt. In sight was a yellow phone booth (for those who still remember it) with a Birdie on the roof. A lot of phone calls were made there. It rang briefly, the call was answered, and they talked away. Experienced “D-telephoners” at least left a small pause to give the imaginary caller a chance to respond. A monologue is not a conversation. As mentioned, it was not exactly cheap, and somehow, everyone had to see and hear that a man was in possession of such a device.

Due to the lack of prior information options, the only choice was to visit a perfumery. So I made my way and took the tester in hand. The color of the liquid looked a bit friendlier than expected. The first spray … gum! Not the kind we know from the packs with the included strips, but the kind that used to come from the machines that hung on almost every street.

After you dropped a dime (back in the DM days!) into the mechanism and turned the crank, the machine dispensed a few balls and, if you were lucky, one of the included gimmicks that were mixed with the gum balls. The small, rare lighters were particularly sought after. If you’re six years old and score such a lighter, you’re the king.

Back to the Egoiste with the platinum cap. I was a bit startled. I sprayed again and left the perfumery, as I still had the goal of “new jeans” on my list.

During the fitting, the scent kept coming back to my nose. The sweet, annoying “gum” had, by now, turned into a finely balanced fragrance. Fresh, a bit green, and with a note that I would now classify as metallic. It strongly reminded me of a forest that, after a long drought, had received a heavy downpour, and the evaporating water released all the scents that the forest had to offer; from the ground through grasses and flowers, to the wood, needles, and leaves of the trees.

So I went back to the perfumery. There was still space in the bag with the jeans…
Since that day, the Egoiste with the platinum cap has always stayed close to me.

That was a lot of story and little fragrance.
I hope you still enjoyed it and I could entertain you a bit.

It was the year 1981. My encounter with fragrances was rather classic and sparse.

The Emperor had sold enough soups and it was still far from Christmas, he recommended Brut by Fabergé. I found the scent quite pleasant, as it was somewhat removed from the prevailing lemony earthiness of the 60s and 70s. I liked this green, slightly sweet, anise-like blend on my skin.

At that time, one would test briefly and whatever was liked was purchased. No one worried about top, heart, and base notes. It was all about the overall impression. Fabergé also had the advantage of being available for purchase at the supermarket across the street.

Further fragrance encounters occurred in our ship's canteen. However, the selection was rather limited. Old Spice, probably due to the depicted sailing ship. Next to it, as a highlight, was Russian Leather and for the ladies, Cabochard. Probably for camouflage purposes, so we would smell like the "enemy." After all, I gained a few experiences about what I did not like.

With the purchase of a new suit for the office, a new fragrance was also to be introduced to accompany the new outfit. That was the plan.

As I approached the fragrance temple, the shop windows were gleamingly decorated in black. Even inside, I could hardly escape the color. So, the marketing-driven choice went to the black bottle. It felt good in my hand and what sprayed out at me was pleasing. Dark-sweet, I didn’t think much more about it. Pay, pack it up, done. I was already standing in front of the store again. That was how it was back then.

After I got home, the fragrance was examined a bit more closely. First realization: Probably not a companion for the office environment. There was still the Emperor's scent for the new office attire.

For an evening out, however, the little black one was quite suitable. I wore it often and to this day, I haven't given a thought to what it consists of. It pleases, and that's that! "Dark-sweet," indeed.

Over time, it has changed a little. I have too. From its purple-dark container, with the glitter that could be seen when held up to the light, it has become an opaque black. It is also not quite as strong anymore. Well, my figure has suffered too. Falling down is still just as quick as before, but getting up now takes a bit longer. We have never held our changes against each other and have remained friends.

Since the nineties, when the two Elements fragrances adorned my collection, I have had some encounters with the scents from the Boss brand, but nothing has truly excited me. The Bottled series relies too much on apple for my taste. Here, they make a strong effort to incorporate every state of this fruit, from branch to blossom and unripe state, all the way to its musty liquefaction, into their fragrances. The rest is, for me, no better.

A year ago, however, the Collection Edition caught my attention. The notes of the Energetic Fougère appealed to me. I didn’t want to order “blind,” so I set off to a retailer that carried this fragrance in their promotional portfolio. Since the scent was not in stock at the location, they promised to request a sample, which should arrive in two or three days.

A few days later, I received the sample, which was not much, just filled in a tube without a spray nozzle. I then transferred the sample into a travel spray and tested it. What I perceived was quite pleasing. So I will skip the fragrance experience I had up to this point and pick up again with the receipt of the fragrance shipment.

The first impression is always the visual and tactile perception of the product. The scent comes in a round cardboard box that gives a rather high-quality impression. After removing the protective film, the cardboard bell is lifted off the base where the fragrance bottle rests. It reminds me of the sailor fragrances from JPG, but without me having to wonder whether using a can opener would be advisable.

The bottle is quite heavy. It is simply designed, has a thick glass base, and a cap that fits well. The spray nozzle has the right effectiveness and makes a solid impression. Overall, it is very understated. Since I am interested in the scent and not so much in the packaging, this is perfectly fine and appropriate. Quiet luxury, it doesn’t have to be flashy.

Now I come to the actually interesting part: How does it smell?

The fragrance opens with a sweet, green note. To me, it feels “wormwood-like.” This is likely due to the mugwort and the oils from the angelica seeds. This impression is immediately supported by the present but not overpowering note of sandalwood, which contributes its own gentle woodiness and subtle creaminess. The sandalwood accompanies the fragrance throughout its entire duration until it fades away.

As it develops further, the geranium and rose introduce a herb-fresh floral aspect. These scent impressions give the fragrance a few light, fresh, fougère nuances.

Overall, the fragrance feels sweet, woody-fresh, with a slight bitterness contributed by the rose and geranium. The framework is formed by the sandalwood, which is always very present. The classic characteristics of a typical fougère, such as herbaceous citrus bergamot and earthy mossiness, are sought in vain here. To me, it also feels quite “blue.” Not that it is very marine, but it conveys the freshness of spring water.

This fragrance reminds me of my childhood. Outside the village, there was a forest pond that, upon closer inspection, revealed itself to be a spring pool that had carved out its place and flowed into a stream. It was clear and not very deep. Thus, the little sand fountains caused by the rising water were very beautiful to see. There was so much movement in this little world that aquatic plants had no chance of settling. Only on one side was there a small urban corner where a few cattails grew.

On a lighter side of the spring pond, a few wild herbs grew up to the shore, and a few roses, which someone must have planted and forgotten, broke through the lush green.

The springs were fed by the surrounding highlands, and the pond was surrounded by pines, smaller firs, and ferns. A small waterfall, resulting from the outflow of a spring that was a bit higher and hidden in the woods, completed the scene.

Energetic Fougère reflects the olfactory impression of this pond, which felt very fresh and not musty, very well. Everything feels natural, gentle, and harmonious. Present but not intrusive.

The longevity and projection of Energetic Fougère depend greatly on the surrounding temperatures and the physical activity of the wearer. On average, it lasts about seven hours before the scent is only perceptible very close to the skin. For me, that is perfectly sufficient.

I hope I was able to give you a little insight into the fragrance world of Energetic Fougère, which adds a bit of blue to the green and thus is not a “real fougère.” A modern and successful interpretation of the theme “fougère.” I like it!