Oolong11
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Up close, but somehow far away
Sometimes I come across a fragrance that stays so close to the skin that it becomes almost intangible. Le Musc et La Peau is just such a perfume - a very personal, quiet fragrance that nevertheless leaves questions unanswered.
The first spray piqued my curiosity: there was something soft, almost skinnish, with a slightly animalic warmth that promised a certain sensuality. I perceive rosemary, or at least I imagine I do - a hint of herbaceous freshness that blends almost immediately with something smoother. Perhaps it's the ylang-ylang that makes me sit up and take notice for a moment, with its soft, slightly floral creaminess. At first, I thought: this could be something really special.
But then the fragrance changes on my skin - not dramatically, but quietly and almost imperceptibly. The skinniness remains, but it loses its depth. After a while, an impression of clean freshness remains, like freshly washed laundry that has been dried in the sun. This may be pleasant in itself, but it feels somehow... arbitrary. This fresh, almost sterile wood that lingers is well done, but it gives me no sense of personality or warmth; it's similar with the musk that lingers: pleasant in itself, but perfumes often end on musky notes and somehow that leaves me at a loss.
I wish the wood was a little creamier, softer, perhaps warmer. But instead, it remains cool and sober, and I miss the initial moments that had enticed me with their subtle tension. It's as if the fragrance had promised to envelop me in a sensual embrace and then decided to keep its distance instead.
Maybe it's my skin chemistry that doesn't give this fragrance a chance to fully unfold. Maybe it's because I can't clearly smell the individual nuances and everything blends into a homogeneous, smooth veil. I'm also not sure whether it was the progression from rosemary to ylang-ylang that briefly captivated me, or whether it was the ylang-ylang that appealed to me from the start with its delicate sweetness. The first impression is still impressive and I love it, but how the fragrance stays with me disillusioned me.
There are certainly people for whom Le Musc et La Peau is perfect - an intimate, clean fragrance that is not intrusive and is simply there, like a familiar. For me, however, it remains a little too aloof, too much in the world of "fresh laundry".
A beautiful fragrance, no doubt, but not mine. I appreciate the concept and the quality, but on my skin it feels less like a perfume or skin scent and more like a fragrance filter - it feels like the scent forms an invisible barrier that tames the intensity of the perfume and makes it almost a neutral, transparent veil. Rather than merging with the skin and coming alive, it remains distant and light, like a gentle layer that does not quite penetrate the natural scent, but rather lays a subtle freshness over it. It is as if the fragrance touches the senses only fleetingly, without really unfolding or developing a striking, personal radiance.
The first spray piqued my curiosity: there was something soft, almost skinnish, with a slightly animalic warmth that promised a certain sensuality. I perceive rosemary, or at least I imagine I do - a hint of herbaceous freshness that blends almost immediately with something smoother. Perhaps it's the ylang-ylang that makes me sit up and take notice for a moment, with its soft, slightly floral creaminess. At first, I thought: this could be something really special.
But then the fragrance changes on my skin - not dramatically, but quietly and almost imperceptibly. The skinniness remains, but it loses its depth. After a while, an impression of clean freshness remains, like freshly washed laundry that has been dried in the sun. This may be pleasant in itself, but it feels somehow... arbitrary. This fresh, almost sterile wood that lingers is well done, but it gives me no sense of personality or warmth; it's similar with the musk that lingers: pleasant in itself, but perfumes often end on musky notes and somehow that leaves me at a loss.
I wish the wood was a little creamier, softer, perhaps warmer. But instead, it remains cool and sober, and I miss the initial moments that had enticed me with their subtle tension. It's as if the fragrance had promised to envelop me in a sensual embrace and then decided to keep its distance instead.
Maybe it's my skin chemistry that doesn't give this fragrance a chance to fully unfold. Maybe it's because I can't clearly smell the individual nuances and everything blends into a homogeneous, smooth veil. I'm also not sure whether it was the progression from rosemary to ylang-ylang that briefly captivated me, or whether it was the ylang-ylang that appealed to me from the start with its delicate sweetness. The first impression is still impressive and I love it, but how the fragrance stays with me disillusioned me.
There are certainly people for whom Le Musc et La Peau is perfect - an intimate, clean fragrance that is not intrusive and is simply there, like a familiar. For me, however, it remains a little too aloof, too much in the world of "fresh laundry".
A beautiful fragrance, no doubt, but not mine. I appreciate the concept and the quality, but on my skin it feels less like a perfume or skin scent and more like a fragrance filter - it feels like the scent forms an invisible barrier that tames the intensity of the perfume and makes it almost a neutral, transparent veil. Rather than merging with the skin and coming alive, it remains distant and light, like a gentle layer that does not quite penetrate the natural scent, but rather lays a subtle freshness over it. It is as if the fragrance touches the senses only fleetingly, without really unfolding or developing a striking, personal radiance.
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A fragrance that gets under my skin
There are fragrances that you just wear, and then there are fragrances that do something to you. For me, Orris Tattoo is the latter - an olfactory experience that leaves a delicate, lasting impression on my inner self, my thoughts, my feelings.
When I applied Orri's tattoo for the first time, I was enveloped by an incomparable feeling of intimacy. The first impression for me is green, definitely fresh, but not aquatic; it is gentle and yet characterized by a subtle tension. It's like being wrapped in velvety, light yet warming fabrics that lie on the skin like a second, luxurious layer that doesn't weigh you down, but simply protects you somehow, at once cool and warmly familiar.
The main protagonist is iris, and I think it shows its most beautiful side: velvety, slightly earthy and with an unexpectedly warm depth. In combination with a hint of (perhaps?) violet, a feeling of softness unfolds that is simultaneously calming and fascinating.
What particularly touched me was the subliminal creaminess and very profound "sweetness" (sweetness sounds too sweet to me and the perfume is not sweet at all for me, but "sweet"), which, however, never comes across as intrusive like detergent or starched bed linen from the dry cleaners, and it is also not that shower freshness that some people love, but which always leaves me perplexed. The woody, earthy, "leafy" and slightly buttery nuances give the fragrance structure and grounding without making it feel heavy. It's a perfume that has depth but not heaviness - perfect for moments when you want something special for yourself without being too loud, I think.
I remember one evening when I was wearing Orris Tattoo: it was a cool spring day, and as I sat in a small café looking out over the streets, I felt like this fragrance was embracing me like an invisible companion. An acquaintance who joined me later noticed the scent immediately - not because it dominated or projected strongly, but because it created an aura. "It smells so good on you, so familiar and comforting," he said, and I knew immediately what he meant: Orris Tattoo is not a perfume that you just "wear". It becomes a part of me.
The longevity is excellent on me, especially for a perfume that is so subtle, but I have to agree with the previous speakers: it lasts longer on me when I wear it on my upper body and/or on creamed skin - it fades quickly for me on my wrist or neck alone, although others still notice it well close to me. But on the upper body it stays on the skin for hours, almost like a second memory that keeps revealing itself in small nuances, sometimes like a spring breeze, sometimes like a warm ray of sunshine in the fall, sometimes like a quiet snow-covered lake landscape in Finland, sometimes like a summer rain. All without much progression or super exciting nuances and - importantly for me: without any moisture or spice; the fragrance is rather linear in its elaboration of the iris nuances, but I find it very, very beautiful for me. Other fragrances are just too excited for me and cover me up. I don't want my fragrance to be perceived in front of me, but with me.
For me, Orris Tattoo is more than just a perfume - it's a feeling, an expression of sincerity, intimacy, humility somehow and quiet strength. If someone is looking for a fragrance that is both purist and emotional, at once approachable and characterized by a subtle sophistication, then they should try Orris Tattoo.
A perfume that doesn't need a big stage to shine - because it shines from within.
When I applied Orri's tattoo for the first time, I was enveloped by an incomparable feeling of intimacy. The first impression for me is green, definitely fresh, but not aquatic; it is gentle and yet characterized by a subtle tension. It's like being wrapped in velvety, light yet warming fabrics that lie on the skin like a second, luxurious layer that doesn't weigh you down, but simply protects you somehow, at once cool and warmly familiar.
The main protagonist is iris, and I think it shows its most beautiful side: velvety, slightly earthy and with an unexpectedly warm depth. In combination with a hint of (perhaps?) violet, a feeling of softness unfolds that is simultaneously calming and fascinating.
What particularly touched me was the subliminal creaminess and very profound "sweetness" (sweetness sounds too sweet to me and the perfume is not sweet at all for me, but "sweet"), which, however, never comes across as intrusive like detergent or starched bed linen from the dry cleaners, and it is also not that shower freshness that some people love, but which always leaves me perplexed. The woody, earthy, "leafy" and slightly buttery nuances give the fragrance structure and grounding without making it feel heavy. It's a perfume that has depth but not heaviness - perfect for moments when you want something special for yourself without being too loud, I think.
I remember one evening when I was wearing Orris Tattoo: it was a cool spring day, and as I sat in a small café looking out over the streets, I felt like this fragrance was embracing me like an invisible companion. An acquaintance who joined me later noticed the scent immediately - not because it dominated or projected strongly, but because it created an aura. "It smells so good on you, so familiar and comforting," he said, and I knew immediately what he meant: Orris Tattoo is not a perfume that you just "wear". It becomes a part of me.
The longevity is excellent on me, especially for a perfume that is so subtle, but I have to agree with the previous speakers: it lasts longer on me when I wear it on my upper body and/or on creamed skin - it fades quickly for me on my wrist or neck alone, although others still notice it well close to me. But on the upper body it stays on the skin for hours, almost like a second memory that keeps revealing itself in small nuances, sometimes like a spring breeze, sometimes like a warm ray of sunshine in the fall, sometimes like a quiet snow-covered lake landscape in Finland, sometimes like a summer rain. All without much progression or super exciting nuances and - importantly for me: without any moisture or spice; the fragrance is rather linear in its elaboration of the iris nuances, but I find it very, very beautiful for me. Other fragrances are just too excited for me and cover me up. I don't want my fragrance to be perceived in front of me, but with me.
For me, Orris Tattoo is more than just a perfume - it's a feeling, an expression of sincerity, intimacy, humility somehow and quiet strength. If someone is looking for a fragrance that is both purist and emotional, at once approachable and characterized by a subtle sophistication, then they should try Orris Tattoo.
A perfume that doesn't need a big stage to shine - because it shines from within.
