NuiWhakakore

Ma chère Joséphine,
i am writing to you from this island, which is not mine, in a foreign ocean, so far away from everything I hold dear. The imperial court is at my service here too, but it cannot hide 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 a picture of my work. I always return to two points in my life. My youth in Corsica, the smells of the seasons, the dry hay of autumn, the aromatic flowers and peaches, the moss between my hands. Here there is only everlasting green or the barren slopes of the volcanoes, no change and therefore no new beginnings. The other point is you, the only one I have ever loved.
So I beg 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, because the prostitutes here are young and healthy, but they have no class.
Adieu, mon amie, porte-toi bien.
BP*

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Immortelle Corse focuses on immortelle in all its facets: there are delicate floral tones, stony-dry, tart spice. A, quite rightly, dreaded maggot note also resonates here. However, the whole thing never becomes obtrusive or monothematic, as the immortelle is too balanced for that and is also supported by a few other notes
First of all, there is saffron and lemon, which add something fresh and spicy to the immortelle. Apricot comes a little later. It is fruity, but not particularly sweet. I'm not thinking of a juicy apricot straight from the tree. With the spicy notes of immortelle, it's more like a chutney, although I can't help thinking of resins. Slowly, the oakmoss comes through more strongly, dry and fresh. At times, I have a hint of ginger in my nose.
Towards the base, the fragrance becomes a little sweeter and more powdery. This could perhaps be due to the oakmoss, but I would rather guess a little musk (pyramid or no pyramid). However, I only notice this powderiness when I concentrate on the fragrance and only from close up, as it is hardly noticeable when worn normally and at a greater distance. This makes it an extremely pleasant spring and early summer fragrance that, unlike Eau de Glorie, doesn't transport me to Corsica, but is simply a good perfume

Thanks to Spatzl for the sample!

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*For historical classification:
Napoleon Bonaparte was born in Kosika, made a career in the military, became First Consul of France and later Emperor of the French. He married Josèphe Marie Rose de Beauharnais (possibly even for love), later divorced her and died in exile on St. Helena in the South Atlantic. It is also certain that he continued to write to Joséphine after the divorce and signed it 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 me that you are well. They say you are getting fat, like a fat Norman tenant's wife."
It is also doubtful that Napoleon smelled of immortelle, tart or otherwise masculine in today's sense. His cologne was at least described on ARD educational television (Sendung mit der Maus) as fresh, bodily and very flowery.

Inspired by Kerala, the spice garden of India, comes a fresh fragrance that is second to none! With its high-quality and powerful ingredients, it reflects the richness and elegance of the maharajah era and at the same time charismatically leads them into an avant-garde future. The fragrance journey begins with a citrus-fresh accord of juicy grapefruit and spicy ginger. Luxurious ambergris rounds off the fragrance and lends it an incomparable depth. Inspired by the elegance and grace of... xXxOooo .. . >C: #promt fcuk // error

'parfuKI Service Desk, how can I help you?'
'Yes, hello first of all, I just created a great text for a fragrance with the latest version of parfuKI, but then the app crashed.'
'Oh, that's unfortunate. Have you tried restarting it yet?'
'Yes, of course, but the AI now only responds to requests with insulting and obscene nursery rhymes.'
'That's actually new, could you give me an example?'
'I'd rather not, it's too embarrassing for me to read out...'
'Too bad, would have been interesting for our research. Unfortunately, we had a few problems with the latest version, it now seems to be too intelligent for some tasks. There can be problems with queries that require a strong discrepancy between imagination and factuality.'
'Facticity huh...?'
'In other words: if the scent is to be praised even though it's actually crap, the AI doesn't like it.'
'But what do I do now, of course the fragrance is crap, otherwise I wouldn't write anything about it, but I have a deadline at the agency! I can't make it all up myself.'
'No, of course not, that's what parfuKI is for! Just use the previous version, it's stupid and does what it's told.'
'Thank you parfuKI, you are my salvation!'

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First of all: the text was created without AI, but I copied it from the Bvlgari homepage and was also inspired by other sources. So maybe there is some AI in it indirectly, but filtered through my brain. In this respect, you can no longer speak of artificial, perhaps not even of intelligence.

Le Gemme - Tygar starts with a very clear grapefruit, fresh and fruity. Unfortunately, the grapefruit is also very musty and slightly acrid, as if mixed with a hint of indolic jasmine. I often have this problem with grapefruit, so this may just be 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 is vaguely sweet, resinous and fruity. The fragrance is not particularly fresh, I don't recognize the ginger mentioned here (it doesn't appear in Bvlgari either). As the fragrance progresses, the ambrox (Bvlgari speaks of ambergris, you can still hear the laughter of the marketing department echoing in the background) becomes clearer, it becomes sweeter and slightly woody. The ambrox doesn't stand out too much on the nose here and also holds back with shower-gel tendencies, which is the most positive thing you can say about Tygar. Only in the base does the wood become somewhat drier and very slightly pungent.

Le Gemme - Tygar currently has a rating of 8.4, which is a mystery that I don't understand, as this is primarily a boring, random designer fragrance of the synthetic type that is available in abundance. Yes, it doesn't hurt much and the synthetics could be worse, but is that enough for the price? Everyone can decide for themselves, but I find it interesting that it doesn't have to be that way, as Le Gemme - Kobraa shows: the same perfumer only four years later and a completely different fragrance experience.

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Reading tip: the entry on Le Gemme - Tygar on the Bvlgari homepage, this is real satire at its best.

Of course you have to do something about climate change, it's there, you see it every record summer and non-winter, only the simplest deny it. I'm doing what I can, no question, but you don't always have to be so negative, you can also see the positive sides.

I inherited the house from Grandma, with the huge plot of land, lots of lawn, woods and a small pond. With the summers of the last few years, it looks a bit like a savannah anyway, so I adopted a little African elephant. His name is Kurt, after my grandpa. Kurt likes flowers. The flowers are the only thing I still look after in the garden, they were grandma's everything. Kurt likes to roll around in them and then he actually smells a bit like grandma. Like their perfume, a little bit. I have no idea what an elephant normally smells like.

Kurt was allowed in the house at first, but a lot of things got broken. Vases in particular. The flower water didn't do the parquet any good, nor did its weight, but I glued everything back together again. The earthy elephant footprints won't come out of the Persian either, but I don't blame Kurt, it wasn't intentional, he's just still small and a bit clumsy. But he is no longer allowed in the house. But it wouldn't have lasted long anyway, the little ones grow up so quickly!

Kurt is developing splendidly, but there is one thing that worries me: he is obsessed with coconut milk. I even wonder if he isn't actually an Asian elephant. Not that I mind, but I would like to know. Besides, I've learned Swahili and don't really feel like learning Thai now. Google Lens doesn't know what to do either, Kurt is probably still too young to recognize it. I guess we'll have to wait and see. Anyway, I'm glad I called him Kurt and not Ngũgĩ, or something like that, which wouldn't suit an Asian elephant at all.

And remember, always look on the bright side! If the climate continues like this, I'll order a few more ostriches and hope that no emus arrive...

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I often find it difficult to grasp the concept of Zoologist, i.e. to recognize the animal in the scent. Sometimes it works well (Bat, Bee or Dodo, for example), but often it doesn't and then all that remains is a name and a nice little animal on the label. Elephant is such a case: it starts quite lushly (also in terms of silage) with sweet, creamy blossoms, which fortunately also reveal the watery green of the stems and leaves. Without that, the beginning would be a runaway. What I find interesting about the fragrance anyway is not the superficial notes, but what is going on underneath: woody, spicy, slightly smoky notes. Although the smoke (probably from the incense) soon disappears again. What remains is the spicy wood with a slight hint of glue (sandalwood, although not quite Mysore). This keeps the fragrance from falling off.

At least until the coconut milk becomes recognizable. This makes the flower-cream mixture very, very sweet, almost sticky. I was on the verge of scrubbing the whole thing off. But again, the spicy sandalwood just about manages to absorb the fragrance. With the decline of the coconut note, a greenish-floral scent remains, which would be okay so far. Unfortunately, an earthy patch with a clear cocoa note is added in the base, which is another thing I don't like at all. However, it remains bearable thanks to the spicy-woody notes and a little resin. Elephant thus manages the feat of just avoiding disaster several times, as if on a knife's edge, which ultimately leads to a fairly average fragrance (note: from my point of view, if you like flowers, cream, coconut, patch, you can be very happy with it).

But what does this have to do with elephants? I can't say, especially as there is no animalic element here. From what I remember, it smells very different in the elephant house at the zoo. But whether that would be better as a fragrance remains to be seen...

Thanks to Spaztl for the zoo visit!

Grandpa was a stern man. Tall, strong, weather-beaten, dismissive and harsh in appearance. At least that's how he seemed when you didn't know him. To me, he was always open and warm-hearted as I sat on his lap and he told me stories, his face deeply furrowed like the waves on the sea. Huldufólk doesn't only exist on land, he said, there are also magical creatures in the sea, lost kingdoms and many a hidden secret. He told me many stories in his hut with the leaning trees in the garden and a view of the fjord and I knew that they were not just stories, they were true, they could really happen. And so he also told me the story of the fisherman who went out to sea and didn't come back, but became something else there, a creature of the sea.

And what can you become? I have always asked.
Anything you want, from the smallest crab to the biggest fish, Grandpa answered.
And what do you want to be?
I, said Grandpa, will become a big, gray whale.

Those were the happiest days of my life.

But as the days got shorter, Grandpa also got thinner, narrower, appeared smaller and smaller, imperceptibly at first, but at some point it was clear that something was wrong, even if none of the adults told me anything. Otherwise, everything was the same as always, the stories were told in a somewhat brittle voice at best, but the smoke from the coal stove was in the air, just like the damp earth and the dark green of the grasses. The smell of the sea was just a whiff here, like the distant cry of a seagull.

And when Grandpa said goodbye one day and went back to sea, I suspected that he wouldn't come back, that he would stay there. I held him tight, didn't want to let him go, cried, but you can't stop nature. And so Grandpa went to sea and never came back. The only thing that came back was a lifebuoy, which I found on the beach months later and which now, all these decades later, hangs above my fireplace. And when I look out to sea today and see a whale in the distance, I always wave back and think of Grandpa.

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Flotholt starts as an Icelandic forest, with gnarled, crooked conifers, but also a few fresh notes of citrus fruits, which are certainly not native here and therefore appear somewhat muted and restrained. There is also some smoke, but it is not very dense, more reminiscent of fog. The smoke is absolutely tarry, even though birch tar is not mentioned in the pyramid, and is initially dark. The whole thing is quite spicy (probably due to the seaweed) and there is also a slight salty note. In my opinion, this is not directly aquatic and is reminiscent of the good initial phase of Oud Minerale, but is much harsher. I would also say there is a portion of vetiver in here; the dark, spicy, slightly earthy variety.

The smoke quickly fades, but never disappears completely. This reduces the tension in the fragrance somewhat, but makes it more pleasant for me. Musk is also recognizable. It is warm, humanizing, like slightly sweaty skin (it is more pleasant than it sounds). Towards the base, everything becomes increasingly softer. There is still a hint of ambergris, but nothing much changes. Fischersund uses synthetic fragrances, sometimes very aggressively. However, this is not the case here; it is only towards the end (after 6-7 hours) that you suspect that the woods are not entirely natural. After 7-8 hours, the story comes to an end.

A successful fragrance that would probably be a little too strenuous for me to wear, although the brand has much more strenuous fragrances in its portfolio. Thanks to Gandix for the short trip to Iceland!

The Lincoln Continental rolls slowly along the road. The whitewall tires look cracked on the new asphalt. The houses are freshly renovated and clean, like everything else in this neighborhood. Everything old has been carefully selected and placed, nothing left to chance in this haven for the upper middle class. A chauffeur with a cap is recognizable, the passenger behind the tinted windows is not. The people in front of the houses interrupt their conversations and look on suspiciously. A car like this might have passed as an ironic gesture 10 years ago, but today it's just an affront. There are no more dealers here, the weed comes from Oregon, is organic and fair trade, and the OxyContin is available on prescription from the neighbor two houses down.

The window opens a crack. You can guess the leather upholstery, wood paneling, maybe a minibar, certainly tailor-made suits that may have cost $300 in the past, but nobody here cares, the designer jeans cost the same and the hair and beard also have to be touched up weekly at the barber. You can tell, there's a tangy, fresh herbal scent in the air. Whether it comes from the car or from the people is not clear. It is only slightly swirled as the carriage slowly drives on. The two worlds are similar in many ways and yet there is no contact between them.

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New York Intense starts relatively fresh, with subtle but clearly perceptible citrus fruits. The lavender is immediately recognizable and on the spicy-sweet-creamy side. I cannot detect any floral notes here and there is nothing powdery either. The spices and other herbs are very subtle and only provide slight support. Compared to the old New York, this is somewhat more modern, softer and rounder, but certainly not more intense. The oakmoss is relatively similar to the original, strong, dry and spicy. However, there are no soapy notes here. The gentle lavender clearly wins through the good portion of oakmoss.

Towards the base, almost dark woods and some resin are added. This is relatively harsh at the beginning, before the resins become clearer and noticeably calm everything down. This is how the base approaches the start: a mildly spicy green. On a positive note, tonka and vanilla are very restrained and only become recognizable at the very end. By then, however, the fragrance is only very close to the skin anyway and that doesn't bother me.

New York Intense is a little more modern than New York, but you can still recognize the original and you shouldn't get the wrong idea: it's still quite a classic fragrance. Some younger people may not have such pronounced grandpa vibes with Intense. Intense is a little fresher, softer and all in all more rounded. The original impresses with its contrasts: floral-powdery against spicy-tart, dry-mossy against resinous-sweet. I also find the original somewhat finer and more detailed.

For me, New York is slightly ahead, but I would also have an Intense imposed on me. Fans of classically tart men's fragrances should test both before deciding anyway.