Parfümlein

A short comment:
I wanted to travel to Devon and Cornwall last Sunday. 11 days of the finest airbnbs with a dog, beach, and old towns. Pubs. Wind and sun. Relaxation and breathing.
I arrived at the hospital three hours before departure. I've been sitting here for over a week now. I look out the window at the famous sights of my city, and the mood is getting increasingly darker on the ninth day in the hospital.
A reminder of my monthly tablet: empty Sun di Gioia, because a backup will replace the nearly empty bottle, and one tends to empty nearly empty bottles completely.
Had breakfast, showered, and found myself back in the hospital bed. I pulled the bottle from my handbag and weighed it like a precious gem between my hands. How the warm orange matches my T-shirt. How smooth the glass feels. First sniff at the sprayer... one spray left, one spray right... and yes... calm, everything relaxes within me, this softness envelops me, it is summer, it is sun, but not the hot beach day sun that many perceive the scent to be - it is more like a gentle gliding in the warm evening glow, a calming down, a letting go of the day's warmth, a peaceful wandering of thoughts in landscapes full of green and blue, a silky enveloping by mild, floral exoticism. Gardens with white flowers, frangipani and ylang-ylang, perhaps a bit of freesia, but not the sharp hardness of jasmine, not the fresh aquatic that the top note promises, but silky coconut sun milk, freshly washed hair, waterfalls. An unexpected, summer-happiness-giving soul brightener.

What a beautiful summer day! I wake up early and step out onto the street before eight to bathe in the bright, clear light that only exists in Italy. The scent of fresh espresso rises to my nose; the bars have just opened, elegant men in suits stand at the counter enjoying their caffè while standing. I let myself be carried away by the scents, walk over the shady cobblestones, stop in front of the dreamy shops, and am magically drawn to the cathedral, which is already surrounded by people early in the morning. I want to admire it only from the outside and head towards an ice cream parlor, and since the sun is not yet at its zenith, it doesn’t have to be lemon ice. I choose the wonderful amarena cherry ice cream. Juicy, almond-flavored, dark, almost black cherries, finely candied and yielding to my bite with a gentle crunch, are on top - a delight of sweetness, cherry aroma, almond aroma, and a divine consistency, crunchy and then soft and syrupy. The wonderful flavor has infused into the yogurt ice cream, which envelops further small pieces of this Italian cherry specialty. I savor every lick. I am in Italy! In Florence! The sun is shining! I am enjoying a fantastic ice cream in front of the cathedral!
What other gifts could life have in store?
All of this is Vicebomb.
One spray. And a flood of associations overwhelms me. This wonderful summer, this delicious ice cream.
Vicebomb is by no means an autumn or winter cherry scent. It has nothing in common with Lost Cherry or Lovefest Burning. You might think that in the first few seconds, perhaps because you expect it, because you want to categorize the scent into familiar cherry fragrances.
Take your time to really get to know this scent. What does it really smell like?
It is not the spicy or marzipan-heavy sour cherry of the well-known scents of this kind.
It is the true amarena cherry, sweet and without resistance, creamy and bright. A completely different cherry scent, extraordinary, for bright days. An Italian interpretation of cherry enjoyment, not winter-deep, but summer-light.
Simply beautiful!

Blackcurrants and roses! I can hardly think of a combination that is more summery than this - provided one imagines a Central European summer, in Germany or, as in my case: in Austria. A garden, infinitely large for an eight-year-old, with constantly new secrets, hidden corners, concealed paths, with trees so gigantic that there is enough shade beneath them to endure the July heat, with daisies, with a white picket fence that suggests safety and protection, boundaries within which one can fully indulge in the ever-new discoveries, the many different flowers, the little insects, and all the abundant summer joy. And in front of this fence: blackcurrant bushes, enormous, with plump red berries, and among them fully bloomed roses that have not yet wilted from the heat, for this childhood dream speaks of long-gone days. The snacking on the rather sour berries, the pleasure of brushing them off the clusters, the nose buried in a cool, velvety-soft rose... and then the completely relaxed lying on the checkered blanket, in the middle of the grass, the large piece of sweet watermelon, the delightful bite right in the middle of the crescent-shaped slice, the buzzing of bees, the fluttering of lemon butterflies... what a paradise, a garden day in midsummer in the Vienna Woods.
I fondly remember this time, and I do so every time I wear Izia la Nuit. Instantly, I am back in the garden of my mother's friend and relive those long, bright days full of leisure, full of lightness. Izia La Nuit makes it easy for me: The juicy, fruity blackcurrant at the beginning, which after a few minutes lets the full, dark rose shimmer through, then from there dances in perfect harmony with it, immediately brings to mind the scent of this garden, where blackcurrants and roses alternated. A wonderful perfume that presents an extraordinarily beautiful composition. What I particularly like: The autumnal notes of labdanum and patchouli, which gently come through after a while, take away the purely fruity sweetness of the scent and ground it in the truest sense of the word, making it mature. I find it very pleasing that patchouli does not appear too strongly, not used too characteristically, which often becomes too much for me. Here it is wonderfully subtly woven in, clearly distinguishing the scent from a gourmand. Overall, an incredibly beautiful, cheerful, full, and elegant fragrance that I do not necessarily associate with the night, but I also wouldn’t really assign it to summer, as the earthy notes prevent that. It is the perfect autumn scent that evokes the sweetness of summer once more, but also does not obscure the fact that all beauty is fleeting, that the bright days come to an end and the time of harvest begins. Pantha rei - perfectly embodied in Izia La Nuit.

... can indeed be helpful! At least that's what I realized when I enriched my personal Parfumo series with a repeat of the episode "Angel's Share" and the discontinued episode "Khamrah"...
I was very fascinated by the bottle and the notes of Angel's Share shortly after its release - and by the scent as well. So soft, so round, so noble-alcoholic... Unfortunately, I grew tired of the fragrance shortly thereafter. And sold it again. So far, so good.
On one of those days when I was tired of decisions - decision fatigue, as I read, is a symptom of my profession, in which I make up to 1500 decisions daily - and was aimlessly lounging in front of YouTube, I saw a video where Angel's Share was heavily criticized. Because I hold the source of this channel in such low regard, this video practically challenged me: "Bad? Okay. I'll give it another shot."
Unfortunately, I found Angel's Share quite expensive by then. And THAT was the moment when Khamrah appeared on the scene. Excitement! Great bottle! Great pyramid! Great comments! And a wonderful price!
Khamrah quickly settled in with me, and I thought I had my Angel's Share back. Unfortunately, that wasn't the case. I was so bitterly disappointed. Khamrah is, as many here write, really a standalone fragrance. But I don't see it as one that doesn't need to hide behind Angel's Share. I don't get along well with it. I do perceive the fine spicy notes, but there is something so hard, dull, and dark in the background that wearing it becomes rather unpleasant after a short time. I don't find this hardness masculine; that's not the problem. I just perceive the scent as relatively flat because it doesn't delve into depth, doesn't unfold in developments, doesn't lead down winding paths to surprising drydowns, but remains very linear and, at the same time, very intense in my eyes, building up before me like a wall that is simply too overwhelming. In my perception, the fragrance lacks that softness which makes it possible to wear spicy scents at all. I don't eat cooking spices pure either; a teaspoon of cinnamon or even nutmeg would be extremely unpleasant (and probably very unhealthy). Spices need to be integrated into a soft, subtle base that gives them the final touch like diamonds to an elegant, simple dress. They need to make the base shimmer, and for that, they must not appear pure. One idea I like about Khamrah is the smell of warm apples with a slight acidity, like Boskoop, evoking associations with warm apple pie. But in Khamrah, this note overwhelms me, as if the apples were not nestled in soft, delicate, buttery shortcrust pastry but in fresh concrete. Therefore, Khamrah is not the right fragrance for me. And so my path ultimately led me back to Angel's Share, which I now won't part with and won't share with any angel.

How often have I fallen for it in recent years when a fragrance was described with words like "pure sunscreen," "freshly applied Delial," etc.
How often have I thought afterwards that something was just not right with my nose, that others smelled much more, what am I even doing here, etc.
Actually, I have only found a single sunscreen scent for myself so far, namely "19 Louanges Profanes | Pierre Guillaume," in which fortunately many have recognized something like sunscreen.
I can't exactly answer why it is so important to have a sunscreen scent, but fundamentally it can only boil down to feeling reminiscent of happy childhood days, of the care of a loving mother who always made sure you were properly applied with sunscreen, or simply of the vacation feeling, that freedom, the distance from school and any obligations, the fries after swimming, the wet hair, the splashing of plastic shoes on the stone tiles of the outdoor pool, the feeling of how much it hurt when you ran too fast and fell hard on those sharp-edged things. In my case, there was an outdoor pool in South Tyrol that I fondly remember, specifically in Dorf Tirol. At some point, I sat on a wasp there (which happened to me again in Munich), and that diminished my desire for that outdoor pool a bit. But my love for the scent of a nice sunscreen has remained.
Undoubtedly, She Wood Golden Light Wood offers this fantastic fragrance experience in nearly perfect form. But unlike "19 Louanges Profanes | Pierre Guillaume," it can, in my eyes, even do more:
It is noticeably lighter, fresher, and more delicate, and thus I reach for it much more often, much more willingly on warm summer mornings that promise a hot day. When the initial citrus freshness only briefly, but still sprightly hints at itself and then very quickly gives way to the softest orange blossom, I feel an uncontainable joy because, of course, hesperidic and orange blossom scents are scattered like sand on the beach and yet not all smell the same, yes, fundamentally it is completely unclear how such a scent will develop when you only read the pyramid components. Anything can come out of it, and often enough it is something I really don't need. Here it is different:
This scent simply makes you happy. After the top note, which reminds me of a warm summer morning in a blooming garden, which is why I love to wear the scent in the morning, the most beautiful sunscreen heart unfolds. I can't name the sunscreen brand, but I know that’s how it smelled at the outdoor pool, and I loved that.
As beautiful as the top note is and as quickly as it transitions into the heart, this happiness lasts a surprisingly long time for a summer scent that feels so light upon application. Sprayed on at six in the morning, I can still perceive the base note at three in the afternoon without any problems, and that really means something because I don't always perceive everything so precisely on myself.
The base note is perhaps even the most beautiful aspect of this sadly discontinued fragrance dream: It completely turns the rudder around once again and finally, finally leads into the forest that the name of this fragrance speaks of, into a light green, warm, very summery forest, into a forest of stories where May beetles played the violin and mice baked cakes and crickets danced. Into a forest where little bears received milk with honey from their mother in the afternoon after playing. That is what makes the base so special: this unmistakable honey note, which is very similar yet much more intense and heavier than in "Intense | Boadicea the Victorious," a bright, clear honey note that characterizes the scent more than the taste of honey, perhaps even the scent of pollen. A beautiful forest-summer-honey note that ultimately conveys the feeling of being at home, of being safe. I perceive the wood notes as rather delicate; they do not overpower the honey, which stands crystal clear and shiny in the foreground, surely amber plays a role here as well. Whether the heliotrope, the rather marzipan-like flower, has a part in this, I cannot say; it may contribute to the extremely delicate sweetness. In the end, it is golden honey.
This turn of the fragrance makes it so extraordinary for me. Here, in the honey pot in the Hundred Acre Wood of Winnie the Pooh lies the key to happiness.