NuiWhakakore

A conclave is exciting, being part of it is something special, a great responsibility, and it's also quite simple: bottle A in the oven produces black smoke, bottle B in the oven produces white smoke. I was fully focused on it.

A conclave is exciting, but this is already the third one this year and it's only September, which is not surprising when you look at the old men who are elected. Although in the last one, the cause of death was rumored to be a delicate accident, but officially it was said to be heart failure. Regardless, I was distracted, I don't want to excuse that, but in 19 unsuccessful voting rounds, I always took the right bottle and always produced nice black smoke. Only in the last successful voting round did I not, but I was distracted, worried, because the Portuguese was elected, another old man, and the likelihood that he won't last until the end of the year is quite high. So I accidentally took the wrong bottle.

A conclave is exciting in principle, but in detail, it's incredibly dull. So I brought my new perfume with me to test it extensively; I don't always have to pay attention, I'm only responsible for the smoke. It's not well seen here to use a perfume that isn't from Mr. S. and it should also contain incense. Therefore, I had some concerns about whether I could wear it, since it's not only not from Mr. S., but also from a woman and contains no incense. But it's not that bad; it smokes beautifully anyway. After the shock of the successful election, I accidentally put the bottle in the oven. Inexcusable and especially expensive.

A conclave ends with the election of a pope, and the people in St. Peter's Square and around the world are signaled by white smoke. When green smoke comes out of the chimney, it's initially irritating. Many have said, however, that it smelled very good, which makes me happy. No one has said that about the white smoke yet. The very conservatives were officially outraged, although some asked me afterwards what kind of perfume it was.

I’m going to pray now. For a long life for the Portuguese, at least longer than 3 months. I can't survive another conclave this year.

------------------------------------

White Smoke starts with a dense mix of sweet-resinous and green-spicy notes with a hint of smoke. The whole thing is relatively soft and feels familiar, but more on that later. Soon, chamomile comes to the forefront: intense, spicy-green, slightly fresh, and somewhat medicinal. I'm not quite sure where the smoke is coming from; without a look at the pyramid, I would have guessed a non-religious, slightly dirty incense. Slowly, the oud makes itself known, woody, a little jungle-like (earth, clay, mulch), steaming, also medicinal. The oud becomes more dominant towards the base, becoming drier, the smoke now more like from a wood fire, and I even think I can imagine minimal leathery-animalic notes. A few flowers and tobacco are recognizable, but should be considered more as an addition. In the base, there is also soothing vanilla, which initially fits very well into the overall picture, but for me personally later becomes a bit too sweet-dominant. At this point, the scent is only perceptible close to the skin. Aside from the fact that it should actually be called Green Smoke, there’s nothing to complain about: green-spicy smoke with an oud twist towards the base, always soft and restrained.

The opening especially feels familiar to the inclined Lyn Harris fan, as it strongly resembles Le Fumée Intense (Miller Harris). However, Le Fumée Intense is much more intense and harsher; one could almost say, impetuous. Differences arise mainly in the base, where the oud is present, and the vanilla is not found in the Intense. Similarities can also be found in Tison (À Paris chez Antoinette Poisson, also by Lyn Harris), which emphasizes the green-medicinal aspects more. Personally, I prefer Le Fumée Intense a bit more, but since it has been discontinued and is now hard to find, White Smoke is an adequate alternative.

Thanks to Spatzl for the insight into the processes of a papal election; I wouldn't have thought of it like that...

My dear Joséphine,
I am writing to you from this island that is not mine, in a foreign ocean, so far away from everything that is dear and precious to me. The imperial court is at my service here as well, but it cannot disguise the fact that this is a prison, not a dungeon of stone, but surrounded by walls of water.
So I write down my memories, so that posterity may form an image of my actions. I keep returning to two points in my life. The youth in Corsica, the scents of the seasons, the dry hay of autumn, the spicy flowers and the peaches, the moss between my hands. Here there is only ever-present green or the barren slopes of the volcanoes, no change and thus no new beginning. The other point is you, the only one I have ever loved.
So I ask you, send me your sous-vêtements, so that I can at least smell you once more, as if they were still warm from your body, the sweet powder still in the fine fabric, for the women here are young and healthy, but they lack class.
Adieu, mon amie, take care.
BP*

--------------------------

Immortelle Corse places the immortelle at the center in all its facets: there are delicate floral notes, straw-dry, and a bitter spice. A note that is rightly feared also resonates here. However, it never comes across as intrusive or monothematic, for the immortelle is too balanced and is supported by a few other notes.
First, there is saffron and lemon, which add a fresh-spicy touch to the immortelle. A little later, the apricot comes in. This is fruity, but not particularly sweet. I do not think of a juicy apricot straight from the tree. With the spicy notes of the immortelle, it resembles more of a chutney, although I also think slightly of resins. Slowly, the oak moss becomes more pronounced, dry and fresh. At times, I catch a hint of ginger in my nose.
Towards the base, the fragrance becomes a bit sweeter and powdery. This might be due to the oak moss, but I would rather lean towards something musky (pyramid or not). However, I only notice this powderiness when I concentrate on the scent and also more closely; when worn normally and from a distance, it is hardly perceptible. Thus, it is an exceptionally pleasant spring and early summer fragrance, which, contrary to Eau de Glorie, does not transport me to Corsica, but is simply a good perfume.

Thanks to Spatzl for the sample!

--------------------------

*For historical context:
Napoleon Bonaparte was born in Corsica, made a career in the military, became the First Consul of France, and later also Emperor of the French. He married Joséphine Marie Rose de Beauharnais (possibly even out of love), later divorced her, and died in exile on St. Helena in the South Atlantic. It is also confirmed that he continued to write to Joséphine after the divorce and signed with BP for Bonaparte. However, the letters were probably more about the amount of alimony. At least the tone must have been somewhat frostier; Napoleon's last letter to Joséphine ends with the words: "Farewell, my friend; write to me that you are well. They say you are getting fat, like a plump Norman tenant farmer's wife."
It is also doubtful that Napoleon smelled of immortelle, bitter or otherwise masculine in the modern sense. His cologne was at least described in educational television by ARD (Sendung mit der Maus) as fresh, sweet, and very floral.

The masses of tourists are gone at the beginning of September. You are not alone, but there is space, and tranquility returns. The temperatures are still high, it is dry, even parched. But the pines provide shade, and a fresh breeze blows down here, close to the sea, bringing scents of herbs and resins and the ripe berries of myrtle. Further up in the mountains, it becomes barren. The grass has turned to straw, the flowers have dried, and soon only the maquis offers company. Thorny and prickly, it does not invite you to linger. So, it’s back down to the beach, to the sunset. The last rays are best enjoyed with a glass of wine. Salute!

-----------------------------------

Eau de Gloire is a scent of memories for me. Memories of a trip shortly after graduation when I traveled around Sardinia for a month with a friend in his VW bus. And even though Eau de Gloire is from the Collection L'Héritage Corse, I think it doesn’t make much difference; Corsica is close by.

The fragrance starts with a pronounced mastic resin: sweet, spicy, green, a bit rubbery. At the same time, it is also fresh and slightly fruity, with the citrus notes staying more in the background. For me, there is also something that is not directly moist, but still slightly luscious, likely from the resins and perhaps also from the myrtle, which is more sensed than recognized here. However, this impression fades quite quickly, drying away in the Mediterranean sun as the immortelle becomes more noticeable. It presents itself as straw-like, dry, spicy, and also slightly floral, but not harsh or medicinal. This is certainly due in part to the resins, especially frankincense and cistus resin (aka labdanum), and also to the now more perceptible fresh notes, which I cannot quite identify (neroli, rosemary, bergamot make sense, though). A hint of moss is also detectable. Towards the base, it becomes less fresh, but more resinous, spicier, and overall a bit darker. The fragrance, however, remains relatively gentle, at least for a scent in which immortelle plays a significant role. It is no comparison to The Afternoon of a Faun or even Ganymede, where I perceive the immortelle as, at times significantly (Faun), harsher. It certainly helps that Eau de Gloire is quite restrained.

Napoleon Bonaparte, who was famously born in Corsica and spent his youth there before exploring the rest of Europe, claimed he could recognize Corsica by its scent even with his eyes closed. At least, that’s what he is said to have claimed, although on another island, in another sea, where he was not entirely voluntary, but let’s be honest, he deserved it. Perhaps Marc-Antoine Corticchiato knew this story and therefore created a fragrance that smells like Corsica. I cannot judge, as I have unfortunately never been there, but I find Eau de Gloire fits wonderfully on Corsica's southern neighbor. Or of course, it is also quite welcome in our latitudes, especially now that spring is finally at the door.

-----------------------------------

A brief comparison to Immortelle Corse, the other immortelle fragrance from the Collection L'Héritage Corse (which is generally highly recommended): with Immortelle Corse, I find the immortelle is even more in the spotlight; it is also a bit more robust, including a hint of Maggi, yet still gentle. It is also fresher, not least due to the oak moss. As a perfume, I find Immortelle Corse a little better; however, it does not evoke memories of landscapes, no matter where.

Inspired by Kerala, the spice garden of India, comes a fresh fragrance that is truly unique! With its high-quality and powerful ingredients, it embodies the wealth and elegance of the Maharajas' era while simultaneously leading them charismatically into an avant-garde future. The fragrance journey begins with a citrus-fresh accord of juicy grapefruit and sharp ginger. Luxurious ambergris rounds off the scent and gives it an incomparable depth. Inspired by elegance and grace... xXxOooo .. . >C: #promt fcuk // error

‘parfuKI Service Desk, how can I help you?’
‘Yes, hello first of all, I just created a great text about a fragrance with the latest version of parfuKI, but then the app crashed.’
‘Oh, that's unfortunate. Have you tried restarting it?’
‘Yes, of course, but now the AI only responds to requests with insulting and obscene children's rhymes.’
‘That’s actually new, could you give an example?’
‘I’d rather not, it’s too embarrassing to read out loud…’
‘Too bad, it would have been interesting for our research. Unfortunately, we had some issues with the latest version; it seems to be too intelligent for some tasks now. Requests that require a strong discrepancy between imagination and factuality can lead to problems.’
‘Factici-huh…?’
‘In other words: if the fragrance is supposed to be praised even though it’s actually rubbish, the AI doesn’t like that.’
‘But what do I do now, the fragrance is obviously bad, otherwise I wouldn’t be writing about it, but I have a deadline at the agency! I can’t just make all this up myself.’
‘No, of course not, that’s what parfuKI is for! Just use the previous version; it’s completely dumb and does what it’s told.’
‘Thanks parfuKI, you are my salvation!’

-----------------------------

One thing upfront: the text was created without AI, although I did copy from the Bvlgari homepage and was inspired by other sources. So perhaps there is indirectly some AI involved, albeit filtered through my brain. In that sense, one cannot really speak of artificiality, perhaps not even of intelligence.

Le Gemme - Tygar starts with a quite pronounced grapefruit, fresh and fruity. Unfortunately, the grapefruit is also very musty and slightly carrion-like, as if infused with a hint of indolic jasmine. I often have this problem with grapefruit, so it may just be a personal perception. After 5 minutes, the fragrance becomes sweeter, slightly resinous, and the mustiness fades. However, I no longer recognize the grapefruit as such; it becomes an indistinct sweet-resinous-fruity scent. The fragrance is not particularly fresh; I do not recognize the ginger mentioned here (it is also absent in Bvlgari). As it develops, the Ambrox (Bvlgari refers to it as ambergris, one can almost hear the laughter of the marketing department echoing in the background) becomes more pronounced, it gets sweeter and slightly woody. The Ambrox does not particularly stand out in the nose and holds back with shower-gel tendencies, and that is the most positive thing one can say about Tygar. Only in the base does the wood become a bit drier and slightly piercing.

Le Gemme - Tygar currently has a rating of 8.4. This is a mystery that I cannot comprehend, as we have here primarily a boring, arbitrary designer scent of synthetic nature, of which there are plenty. Yes, it doesn’t hurt particularly, and the synthetics could be worse, but is that enough for the price being asked? That is for everyone to decide for themselves; I just find it interesting that it doesn’t have to be this way, as shown by Le Gemme - Kobraa: the same perfumer just four years later and a completely different fragrance experience.

-----------------------------

Reading tip: the entry for Le Gemme - Tygar on the Bvlgari homepage, that’s real satire at its finest.

It was clear what they would want, even before the meeting, which could have been skipped, but such meetings are the only justification for management's existence, so they hold meetings. These things can easily last three hours and there aren't even any snacks, which were eliminated by one of the consulting firms that optimizes processes here every six months. The only important information was: we need something dark, masculine. Although no one here actually says masculine, they naturally say unisex, not because they are convinced of equality, but because they don't want to miss out on 50% potential market share, says the controlling department, and ultimately they always decide.

Let me briefly translate all the marketing nonsense and say what is expected:
- new fragrance, dark (but not too dark, of course)
- quickly, time is money, so you take ingredients from the portfolio and mix them anew
- important: fruit (raspberry, plum or something, that always works), vanilla, flowers, booze
- not important: an innovative concept (marketing will write something about that)
- completely unimportant: creativity, excitement, edges
At the beginning of my career, I still thought I could contribute my creative ideas to the process, but this is a machine whose only purpose is profit. It doesn't run smoothly with creativity, the management thinks, so out with it.

But I no longer feel like participating in this game; it's time for a little resistance, a bit of sand in the gears. For reasons of time, I still take an established base, I have something planned for tonight. Additionally: biting lacquer, burning plastic, melting vinyl, smoke that takes your breath away. I wanted to do this for so long, and one might think it would never pass quality control. But that's only a problem if you don't know the place. Here, only the calculations are checked, and they are correct; the stuff is ridiculously cheap. What really matters is something else, I call it the illusion of words, a very special magic of wanting to believe.

So first woods, but they must be noble and dark, so we take ebony; everyone can imagine that. Let's take Makassar ebony, it's very rare, thus exclusive. We could also write ironwood, for example Mpingo, but no one knows that, and it can't be too exotic. Furthermore, resins; I like to use styrax; it already sounds beautifully dark. A few others added, fits. Lacquer and vinyl should be included, but I'd rather not mention smoldering plastic. With that, the fragrance is actually already described, but for the marketing folks, I’ll add apricot (I will never again in my life write raspberry or plum!), rum, and a rose. Let's take a peony today, better yet, a black peony. Voila, done!

This will go through, you'll see...

----------------------------

Yes, it went through, and that is quite remarkable when you consider Tom Ford's portfolio. Black Lacquer does stand out a bit here and, to give it away, in a positive sense.

In my opinion, the fragrance essentially consists of two accords. On one hand, there is a woody-resinous accord, with dry, spicy woods and warm, subtly sweet resins. It also has a slight smokiness, is pleasantly darkened and soft. Oud Wood sends its warm regards here. The other accord is a piercing synthetic lacquer note, mixed with melting vinyl and smoldering plastic. There’s also a hint of something slightly fresh, probably from the pepper (of course black), which you also know from Noir Anthracite, where it is used much more dominantly. What is not present in the fragrance is apricot, rum, and the rose, for which I am very grateful. I don't recognize vetiver and pine needles either, but they seem plausible.

The fragrance doesn't have much development; at first, the plastic accord is more pronounced, later the wood accord. Both remain recognizable at all times. In my opinion, Black Lacquer could have easily been called Oud Wood 2.0, but of course, marketing wouldn't go for that. For me, it is certainly the better Oud Wood and a fragrance that could very well be from Comme des Garçons, although I don't see the mentioned Black as similar (that one is much spicier, in terms of kitchen spices).

Black Lacquer, despite all the synthetics, which one can certainly describe as piercing and biting, is always very gentle and soft, like all the Tom Ford fragrances I know. This may sound paradoxical, but when you lacquer wood, it must be sanded and have no sharp edges; otherwise, the lacquer will crack. Seen this way, it fits perfectly into the portfolio again.