Parma

Whenever I see bergamot-centered fragrances, I have to try them. Citrus-dominant fragrances are my absolute comfort zone. So I recently noticed this fragrance from Bavarian car brand BMW, which I hadn't previously associated with perfumes. No wonder, as they only launched their first two this spring. This follows other car brands that have increasingly discovered the lucrative business of fine perfumery in recent years. The results vary greatly in terms of quality. So far, only some of the Ferrari fragrances have convinced me. Surprisingly and pleasingly, this also applies to 'Bergamood' (unfortunately not to 'Amberness', the brand's second fragrance).

Like other car brands, BMW is not taking any risks and had Frank Voelkl and Alexandra Monet design a clean and very sociable citrus fragrance. It concentrates strongly on the predominantly natural bergamot note and underpins it - in my impression - with a carefully dosed ambrox-musk combination. The scent reminds me very strongly of Le Labo's 'Bergamote 22', so much so that I would describe them as fragrance twins. Both are bergamot fragrances on a somewhat artificial, woody-creamy musk base. In comparison, the American seems a little denser, more "animalic" in its musky tone (albeit very restrained in this respect) and more valuable overall, but the German does not fall significantly short. It is somewhat thinner or more permeable and lighter, as well as less "impure" and "animalic" in the musky note - this characteristic is really only marginally noticeable here - which I personally like both even better. The bergamot note is not quite as juicy, which may be concealed by the minimal use of ethyl maltol, which gives the note a slightly tingling fruity sweetness. The musk is slightly less thickened and the ambrox is less shower gel-like. The slight herbaceousness of the original has also been dimmed, making it feel a little cleaner - supported by the cleaner musk. Nevertheless, as with the Le Labo fragrance, the creamy underpinning bothers me a little too much, so it is not a candidate for me to buy. With a more restrained use of the base, it would have been.

Both are within a manageable range. The Le Labo fragrance lasts longer and projects much more perceptibly, which in my view is an indication of the higher quality of its very similar ingredients.

Anyone who appreciates 'Bergamote 22' but - like me - doesn't want to support the brand's pricing policy can turn to the BMW fragrance with a clear conscience. The almost identical eau de parfum is available at around a quarter of the price. However, if the external effect is very important to you (in the sense of "being noticed"), you should go for the Le Labo fragrance. Apart from that, a very successful bergamot alternative on the market - especially at this price.

I'm standing in the garden and my head is out in the world. I'm with myself and inside myself like rarely before. Like when I was a child.

'Leaf' is a strong, minty tomato leaf fragrance. A distinctive, green woody. Subliminally smoky and remotely reminiscent of the smell of boxwood. Delicately rubbery and leathery and slightly pungent in this quality (similar to norlimbanol, possibly caused by aldehydes). In addition, it is pervaded by rough minty ethereality, somewhat sultry, discreetly saffron-spicy and minimally powdery-ambery on the finish. Uncompromisingly green and unique like Naomi Goodsir's 'Nuit de Bakélite', but much more subtle. Due to the tart mint and clear focus on nature, I also associate it with Fiele Fragrances 'Mentha'. Very independent and highly recognizable. Unpretentious. Grounded. Wonderfully aromatic. For all those who like somewhat bulky, green natural fragrances - especially tomato leaf - and don't mind a certain, noticeably artificial weave. Natural avant-garde. Atypical of Sander and therefore so exciting.

Initially only bitter-citrusy suede. Delicate and sensitive. Elegance through reduction. Like a Bauhaus design piece.

What can trigger a feeling of monotony for some, perhaps even of loneliness, of turning away from the world, allows others to breathe a sigh of relief. Makes them feel space for imagination. Gives them peace and the opportunity to find themselves in it. The latter applies to me. I enjoy that. I like to pause and reflect. This wonderfully clear and clarifying fragrance. Tart and slightly distant. Impressions of chalk dust arise, of soft waxy plasticine, mixed with suede and the bitter tone of gin. A dull, grass-like note subtly tinges green. In the background, a restrained, hint of creamy sweetness makes the whole thing more wearable. This is important, as the fragrance increasingly develops a slightly medicinal mustiness, which, however, has the airy effect of loosened juniper. An unusual, distinctive, slightly bulky profile. Slender and multi-faceted at the same time. Extremely delicate and subtle. Like an Ellena-Hermès.

When I then take a look at the ingredients, I realize that the majority of the impressions are caused by the clove. In essence, it is a clove fragrance. Since Cartier notes tend to be abbreviated, I add the iris component. The rose makes sense, especially in relation to the implied waxiness of the fragrance. If you know about it, you recognize it well. A sign of a very clever construction. And that is the great thing about this fragrance: it is more than the sum of its parts. The individual ingredients change, have no boundaries and together create new impressions. As always with this series, I am incredibly impressed by the constructive idea behind the fragrance and its delicate and consistent implementation. It is not a fragrance that I wear regularly, but put on when I feel like perfume art. It has a wonderfully serene yet sensual elegance. When it is hit by a gust of wind outside, it is lost, but when it settles, the world smells better than before.

Unusual. Own. Portable. Valuable. Well composed. These are the fragrances from Cartier's 'Les Heures' range. And little known. I can only guess why this is, as they combine so many of the qualities you look for in niche fragrances. The main reason seems to me to be the extremely limited availability. The fragrances in the range can only be tested in the in-house boutiques. To make matters worse, only a selection of the thirteen fragrances in the line can usually be found there. L'Heure Folle even occupies a special position, as it is the only one in the world that can only be bought online. There are a few other "webexclusive" fragrances here in Germany, but you can find them in other countries. Only L'Heure Folle is not. Even a sample of it is not available. So they are extremely scarce in the French luxury house anyway. You almost get the feeling that they don't really care about the fragrance division at Cartier - and especially the exclusive ranges. Sales are made with the core jewelry business. That is why Matilde Laurent - who has been the in-house perfumer there since 2011 - probably has all the freedom in the world to let off steam. And she makes full use of it, giving us wonderfully unique, often slightly unwieldy but always wearable perfumes that are so thoroughly composed that they seem to come from a single source. In my opinion, such unusual and at the same time convincing fragrances only exist or have existed in the designer sector under Ellena's aegis at Hermès in the Hermessence line.

L'Heure Folle, the "crazy hour", is a linear fragrance and smells of a subtly green-tinged, slightly creamy, red fruit candy. If you take a closer look, you can imagine the fruitiness as a raspberry-currant mixture - very slightly bitter - with a dash of artificial candy-like fruit aroma and a sugar-like glaze. This scent always reminds me of a childhood candy flavor, a combination of violet pastilles (violet appears in the notes), firm raspberry candy and soft sugar strawberries. What sounds intensely sweet is, however, moderately dosed. This is helped by the subtle creaminess, which has been finely tuned to evoke associations of cream almost dissolved in fruit water and somewhat dampens the concentrated fruitiness. There is also a subliminally perceptible green tone underneath, which has a distinctive effect and makes boxwood and ivy associations (as listed in the fragrance notes) seem plausible. Green tones are actually a trademark of Laurent's fragrances, but are usually used more succinctly than here. She also likes to use incense, which I only catch as a hint here, even more discreetly than the green tone. Looking at the ingredients, this impression is probably due to the blackcurrant and/or boxwood.
I also wrote about elderberry bionade in my statement. I haven't noticed this recently when I've been wearing it, but the perception was probably due to the interesting and rarely used fragrance "grenadine". This is originally a viscous fruit syrup made from pomegranate juice, sweetened with sugar and with an intense red color, which was mainly used to flavor and color cocktails. Nowadays, it is usually a berry mixture of raspberries, redcurrants, blackberries and elderberries. In addition, products with a high sugar content, red color and artificial fruit flavors can now also be called this (source: Wikipedia). Both contemporary variants seem to me to have been the inspiration for this fragrance, especially as, unlike Parfumo and Fragrantica, blackberries are also listed in the notes on basenotes. And the slightly artificial, candy-like olfactory impression mentioned above suggests that artificial aromas have also been added.
Overall, it is a very unique profile, far removed from the usual, often over-sweetened and over-sugared fruity notes in today's (designer) fragrances. It is refreshingly different, slightly elegant and much more delicate. I can't remember smelling such a fruit-centered fragrance from a quality house before. The only one I can think of is L'Artisan Parfumeurs 'Mûre et Musc Extrême', which has a much higher creamy note (musk) and a somewhat darker and more natural fruity note.
The only notes that I can't clearly identify from the fragrance notes are aldehydes and the green leaves, shiso and knotweed that are singularly listed on basenotes. However, they will certainly contribute to the green impression, which - as I said - is extremely restrained.

The fragrance lasts a day on my skin, although it recedes somewhat after about half of the day, but always remains perceptible. Based on my experience (how does the fragrance linger in the room), I rate the sillage as average, but I have received contrary feedback. After half a day of wear, the fragrance was still clearly noticeable at a distance of more than two meters (and that with two sprays in the neck area). In this respect, the sillage may be stronger after all.

Since the end of 2018/beginning of 2019, 'L'Heure Folle' - like all fragrances from the exclusive Cartier ranges - has been offered in a slightly different bottle shape. The most obvious changes are the opaque white, magnetic lids wrapped in colored ribbons. Whether the fragrances have also been changed in this context is beyond my knowledge. In any case, I don't smell any significant differences when I compare the two versions. I have a sample bottling from the current bottle shape and own one in the old (2010 batch). The only minimal differences I notice are in the top note and base. In the top note, the new version seems slightly more sparkling, which could be due to a higher dosage of pink pepper and/or a loss due to the age of the original version. In the base, on the other hand, the 2010 version is somewhat softer and deeper. The fragrance glides out really smoothly. The new version behaves as if slightly dulled. This could be due to the use of a different musk. I don't notice the difference when I wear it on my neck, but only when I wear it on my wrist and smell it carefully. In terms of profile, they both have the same scent.

'L'Heure Folle' is a very independent fruity fragrance that recreates the olfactory image of "Grenadine" and thus points slightly candy-like in the generic sweet-fruity direction, but appears much finer. I have never encountered such a singular concentration on fruity notes in the niche sector - except in 'Mûre et Musc Extrême'. As usual, Matilde Laurent, who trained at Guerlain, demonstrates her skill in creating very subtle, reduced, thematically extremely clear and slightly unusual fragrance profiles that always remain wearable.

Histoires de Parfums founder and owner Gérald Ghislain is a clever dog. With his "This is not a blue bottle" series, which takes its idea from one of the most famous works of surrealism, in which the Belgian painter René Magritte subtitled the picture of a pipe "This is not a pipe" in order to trigger a reflection on the traditional concept of linking object, image and word and thus conventions in general, Ghislain creates a stage in this sense to break through fragrance conventions and create completely new, unconventional concepts. The color blue could also symbolize the blue background used in photography and film, a projection screen on which everything (technically possible) can be depicted. Ghislain's statement of an "infinite realm of blue" points to this. He reinforces this impression by not giving his fragrances in the series names, but only a consecutive number. Imagine if he also gave no other information about the fragrances, so that the recipients could devote themselves to the discovery with complete impartiality and were not subsequently influenced by explanations from the brand. The scope for interpretation would be limitless. Unfortunately, he does not pursue this approach consistently, because even if he does not give the perfumes names, he does give each individual fragrance a theme and a brief description of the idea behind it on his homepage. In addition, with the exception of the first edition "1.1", he has designed all the other fragrances in the series, which so far comprises seven, with their own graphics on the bottle. These are usually kept so open that no conclusions can be drawn about the fragrance profile, but in the case of the "1.2." edition reviewed here, it is different from my point of view. The colorful dots or splashes of color, which seem to be randomly thrown onto the "blue wall", suggest something like exuberance, creativity, liveliness, cheerfulness, playfulness, non-conformism, etc. And this actually fits to a large extent. And this actually fits the fragrance profile to a large extent. I would therefore have liked him to have kept all the flacons completely blue, with only the respective lettering from 1.1 to 1.7 to distinguish them from each other, and not to have given any information on themes and designs. That would have been real freedom. At least for the consumer. Where Magritte provides food for thought and enables an open discussion, Ghislain restricts it with his guidelines. A missed opportunity and, in my opinion, a clever but ultimately just another marketing move.

The fragrance is basically there in its entirety right from the start: a candy-like sweet floral with a dense, creamy-soapy musk base, subtly powdery and slightly vanilla-colored, as well as some sandalwood spice. Infused with a very delicate, green - almost ethereal - freshness. This is incredibly playful and lively, almost exuberant and at the same time clean and well-groomed. And although the main profile sounds generic - sweet flowers on vanilla clean musk - the implementation is very unique. In my opinion, this is due to two things. Firstly, the very cleverly used, contrasting green freshness - ivy is mentioned in the pyramid, but I don't recognize it as such - which gives the fragrance a lightness and gentle inner tension, as well as the gentle, spicy soft woodiness, which adds just enough seriousness to keep it from being a pure children's fragrance. And secondly, the composition, which has wonderfully coordinated and blended the ingredients. As a result, the fragrance appears as if it has been cast from a single mold. The ingredients flow into one another and form a dense overall mass. Luca Maffei thus creates an intensity that goes beyond superficial cheerfulness. It reminds me of a childlike joy, of being completely absorbed in the game, charged with meaning and bringing great satisfaction. The brand-typical richness of the fragrance profile, which is often on the verge of too much, is also achieved here, but remains far removed from aromachemical nuclear bombs. This is due to the predominantly fully synthetic components, such as the candy-like sweetness, which is neither sugary nor clearly fruity or balsamic, but remains in a state of its own and which I associate most closely with an artificial flavor enhancer. It is supported by a very restrained use of vanillin. This lends the floral heart, in which a very fresh, clean, slightly green lily of the valley is initially clearly audible, a kind of sweet, innocent, pure rosiness that is not quite so pronounced in Frédéric Malle's 'Iris Poudre', for example. While Malle's fragrance remains very classic, Maffei's is modern. What it has in common with that fragrance is also a dense creamy soapiness that is reminiscent of body care products such as soaps and - very distantly - body powders. Due to the modernity of the Histoires fragrance, I even associate it with the smell of Play-Doh. The white musk tone that slightly dominates the fragrance forms the basic framework for the strong clean character right from the start and is very comparable in this respect to Acca Kappa's 'Muschio Bianco' or Nasomatto's 'Silver Musk'. However, while the artificiality of the latter soon gets on my nerves, here it is almost sufficiently, but not entirely, masked by the sweet florality. Overall, it seems blatantly artificial, but in a charming and civilized way. In addition, all the ingredients appear eerily reduced, without any background noise or nuances. One-dimensional and rich. As if on a fixed frequency. This certainly takes some getting used to, but - in my opinion - it allows a rarely encountered tone to develop. Not natural, but at the same time very lively. This fragrance thus manages the balancing act that Gishlain wants to achieve with this series, namely to depict the spectrum from the abstract to intense feelings.

The powerful, but at the same time civilized character traits are also evident here. Both are clear, but not overpowering. On the one hand, the fragrance is gone after a shower the next day and on the other, it delights the immediate surroundings with a gentle veil of fragrance in the air. In my opinion, the generous use of white musk is primarily responsible for this. It maintains the tonality perceptibly for almost a day without disturbing the surroundings.

If you like colorful, playful, optimistic and at the same time clean fragrances that have substance and weight (density), you will find a successful and very special edition here. The candy-like florality on slightly vanilla cream soap with a hint of green freshness and delicate woody spice has a very unique and life-affirming radiance. The white musk sometimes makes it a little too artificial for me, but I have become very fond of its character.

By the way, if you want to read about what Ghislain really had in mind when designing the fragrance, you can do so on the homepage (https://www.histoiresdeparfums.com/products/perfume-this-is-not-a-blue-bottle-1-2). By not going into it here, I don't want to deprive anyone who wants to deal with the fragrance as impartially as possible of this opportunity. Although my interpretation does of course represent an influence. But it is certainly less important than Ghislain's.