Parma

Bittersweet-ethereal balminess. Soothing. Sensual. Stimulating. Elegant. Church and secular.

A timeless fragrance.

Initially soft, silky, minimally smoky frankincense. Interwoven with dense, bitter-citrusy freshness (especially Petitgrain). The association with a parish house toilet mentioned in a statement below is not entirely far-fetched. Myrrh - for me the main component of this fragrance - can have bitter-sour, musty-mushroomy characteristics. There is definitely something human about it. Leaning on traditional men’s fragrances from the 50s to 70s, which included “sweaty” cumin or clove (like ‘Eau d’Hermes’ in high dosage or ‘Eau Sauvage’ in low). But in an unconventional form. Woven within: cinnamon. Subtle, warm, delicately sweet-spicy. In the heart with a filigree, slightly sour floral note. And finally, an aniseed-(licorice), herb-sweet-balsamic myrrh that stamps the Eau de Toilette and carries it into infinity.

An ambivalence harmonized with Etro-typical light dissonance of softness, bitterness, sweetness, sourness, and roughness. Not too much. Not too little. On some days wonderful, on others the place described above. A deep, cool-warm fragrance. Complex yet slim. Slightly unwieldy. Individual.

Firmly standing and looking to the future.

As in the spirit of the Christmas midnight mass: closing peace with yesterday and today. In quiet hope for a better tomorrow.


{Reviewed version: 2019. The last version of the now discontinued fragrance.}

France. Paris. 1st Arrondissement. At Place de la Concorde, there is advertising for the upcoming Olympic Summer Games next year, the Tuileries Garden is already adorned with Christmas market stalls, and the evening lighting along the Seine bathes the surroundings in that typically romantic golden light. And I have eyes and nose only for perfume.

I first encountered Samharam two years ago. A bit like in a trance, I emerged from the wonderful Parisian Jovoy store, filled with impressions and three samples. Samharam was not among them. I remember thinking immediately after spraying it on the test strip that it was the most beautiful and perfect incense scent I had ever smelled. The next day, I returned again. And came out with three samples once more. Tauer's 'Rose Flash', Brecourt's 'Eau Libre', and Roos & Roos' 'A Capella'. No Samharam. Why? Because I don’t wear soliflore incense scents. I appreciate their usually cool, elegant, deep, spiritual character, but on my skin, they quickly become too intense, too personal, too characterful. But I love to smell them. On others. I believe there is no scent profile that touches the soul in its origin like that of incense. And the opportunity to test Samharam on my skin would surely arise someday.

The Olympic Summer Games are now over a year behind us, as is another visit to Paris (I didn’t make it to Jovoy then), and memories of Samharam flickered up during this time now and then. However, the opportunity never presented itself. And it wasn’t forced. Until recently. I really wanted to smell another fragrance from the brand: 'Giallo Riviera'. It had haunted me for years, and I stood on the verge of purchasing it several times. Luckily, I found a small online perfume shop that carried this brand and offered samples. Including Samharam. And the rest is history, as they say.

Stella73 perfectly summarizes it in her statement: “... swinging the Thurible...”. Church incense. In its most beautiful form. Wonderfully sacred. At least for my perception. Clear, spicy, balsamic. Balanced in these facets and reduced to the essentials. That impresses me the most. And its intense spiciness. It evokes a similar effect in me as Cartier's 'Déclaration'. But not so cool and strict, rather friendlier. Comparable to Profvmvm Roma's 'Olibanvm'. An incense that oscillates between coolness and warmth. A combination of classic balsamic church incense and the spicy, intense oriental. Without sweetening aromatization from benzoin or styrax. In such an unpretentious way, elegant. Not chic. Grounded. Unpretentious yet special.

As can be easily seen, I am more than taken with this scent and have recently made it my own. Since then, I have noticed a small change within me. Nothing big or dramatic, but I feel my personality a bit more fulfilled. Like I have found a missing puzzle piece that I always suspected belonged to me, but I hadn’t yet found in the right form. Or - probably also because of the long genesis - didn’t want to find. Now it has become a little knot loosener. A small step towards more inner peace.

“And the stars continue to sparkle in the Parisian night, regardless of all the life lines that cross beneath them.”

Les Indémodables is often praised in perfume circles as a very pleasant example of an integral niche, where the selection of raw materials, artistic approach, transparency, and consideration of wearability are in an appealing and balanced relationship. It took me a bit longer to test a fragrance from the brand. Since I like citrus scents the most, I chose ‘Chypre Azural’. My thanks go to Olfaktoria for that. I only had the prior information that it is an orange scent and probably not a chypre scent, as the name - at least to a certain extent - implies. So I was very curious.

Unfortunately, disappointment set in right from the start. Chypre Azural is, from the get-go, a watery, pale, slightly waxy-bitter orange on my skin, resembling a juice that has been diluted with a lot of water. I had imagined it quite differently. Much more expressive. This orange note is supported by an almost transparent, very gentle ozonic-mineral tone, which is minimally salty and subtly metallic. It reminds me most of the smell of light leather that can breathe in fresh air. Interestingly, I keep reading and hearing that real ambergris is used here, which I currently cannot confirm on the brand's own homepage, known for its transparency and which also mentions the use of this ingredient for another fragrance. However, there is a YouTube source where the reviewer ‘FragranceView’ reads the ingredients from the brand booklet and mentions “Ambergris Infusion 2%.” Thus, the composition has apparently changed. My impression of my sample is that perhaps ambergris was still included. However, I wouldn’t want to bet my hand on it, as my perception in this regard is quite faint.
Much more than these two fragrance impressions do not come through during the course, only a barely perceptible delicate herbaceousness - reminiscent of rosemary - that exudes a slightly ethereal spiciness. All of this comes together very organically, but I must point out critically that it remains quite bloodless and reminds me in this respect of some Geza Schön fragrance. The fact that my rating is still in the good range is due to my preference for orange scents and the fact that the composition is coherent.

If this also sounds too pale and pastel-like to you, I would recommend Tauer’s ‘Orange Star’. This has the same waxy-watery orange drink note and a slightly amber-like, subtly leathery base, but is significantly stronger. Certainly also due to the dense musk that is missing in the Les Indémodables scent. Or to Kerosenes ‘Summer of 84’. Also a diluted orange scent, but with what feels like three times the strength and a more accessible presence. Those who prefer a more expressive spicy form should check out Malle’s ‘Cologne Bigarade’ - with a noticeably juicier fruit note - or, if it can go in a slightly smoky-sweaty direction, Parfum d’Empires ‘Azemour Les Orangers’. This also features a much juicier orange tone and is more straightforward in its presence.

The listing of these fragrances already reveals - and this is the second aspect that annoyed me - that Chypre Azural is by no means a chypre fragrance, although one could somewhat trace this in the Corticchiato scent with a lot of goodwill. But this one is not even a light version of this genre, as the name part ‘Azur’ might suggest. It fundamentally lacks the base of oakmoss and patchouli or similarly effective fragrance characters. From my perspective, one cannot speak of a floral heart here either. That is at most vaguely perceptible. For me, this designation is therefore highly misleading. Interestingly, the brand on its homepage, apart from classifying the fragrance as “Citrus-Chypre,” makes no further reference to the term chypre, but speaks of an “extra fresh trail, citrusy and long lasting.” Only in the ingredient listing do patchouli (5% content) and rose (1% content) appear, two typical chypre components that, as I said, are not perceptible to me. In the detailed listing of the ingredients, Evernia Prunastri Extract is also listed, also known as oakmoss. Thus, almost all pillars of a chypre are present here, it just doesn’t smell like one. It is a very simply composed orange scent that exhibits remarkable longevity and pleasantly present sillage. From my perspective, these are - alongside the successful harmonization - two out of three positive characteristics that I attribute to this perfume. The third arises in this long course, as there are no unpleasant developments of the ingredients, which speaks for their quality. The scent is a consistent, long, calm flow. But - perceivable - complexity looks different. Therefore, I am overall somewhat disillusioned, as I had a corresponding expectation due to the brand image and hoped for more.

By the way, there is a wonderful, watery mandarin scent from the brand Acca Kappa, ‘Green Mandarin’, which for me achieves almost the same profile and is even more convincing in the fruit note, only lasts significantly shorter and radiates much less. And costs a fraction of the price. This means: One should not expect a particularly refined, surprising scent or even a niche gem here, in my opinion.

Modern freshness. Metallic-green citrus-sweet-spicy. Like chased through a diffuser. Dry. Grainy. Spherical. A herb-fruity ginger note. Cinnamon nuances. Vetiver peaks. And above all Sclarene, a fully synthetic building block with a hot-pressed white shirt effect. Metallic musk. A bit stiff. Hermès elegance is touched upon. How does Nagel do it? That remains her secret. But it has something. A sketch of nothing. Like mist over a coastal landscape. Like a lonely Bauhaus bungalow on the American West Coast. Stark, empty, lingering. A hybrid between earthy aromatic chemical perfume and classic French nobility. An artificial artifact with hidden nature. Ambivalent. On the edge of attention deficit syndrome. At a low dose, an unexcitedly elegant scent with all-rounder qualities that definitely stays in memory. One could say worse about a fragrance.

An artificially fruity freshness. Synthetic to the max. Without a trace of naturalness. Everything blurs almost unrecognizably in olfactory nirvana.

Melozone, Cashmeran, and a diffuse-powdery musky spiciness equally define this linear, penetratingly cool aroma-chemical freshie.

Melozone, a fragrance ingredient from the American fragrance giant IFF, is described as ozonic, aldehydic, and smelling of melon. Which fits. It exudes a watery, menthol-metallic, moderately sweet, penetrating, "gummy bear-like" shower gel freshness, with a citrusy undertone (similar to yuzu).

Cashmeran, also a synthetic fragrance ingredient developed by IFF, is often characterized as woody-musky (even though it is not a primary musk fragrance), but also as spicy, fruity, balsamic, chypre, and vanilla-like with a silky-soft texture. It forms the base here, and I perceive it as slightly cloying and vaguely artificially amber-woody-soft-musk-sweet. With a subtle vanilla nuance/tonka sweetness. As if the mentioned aspects were stirred into a thickened, slightly unclean mass that swallows all individual expression. A distinct musky spiciness is blended in, which appears powdery-diffuse and reveals a masculine connotation.

The two latter components give the fragrance a soft texture and round it out. The slightly dominating "aquatic" fruit note carries with it a subdued freshness along with a cool undertone that reminds me of the "ice candy" menthol quality of ‘Almost Transparent Blue’ by A Lab on Fire. With a metallic nuance as well. In fact, both fragrances share many similarities. They focus on a distinctly citrusy-watery, almost mirror-smooth, slightly sweet fruitiness and try to maintain this for as long as possible. In my view, Almost Transparent Blue achieves this more convincingly, as it does not have such strongly interfering base notes like the 180 Blue and completely forgoes any amber softening. It appears cooler, cleaner, and thus more distant in comparison. It also lacks the shower gel characteristic of the Porsche fragrance, which gives it a clear designer language. Both share a relative unobtrusiveness despite all their fully synthetic components.

When looking at the works of the responsible perfumer Nicolas Beaulieu, his creations for Paco Rabanne (including Invictus) stand out. This explains why associations with this fragrance profile (fruity-sweet-aquatic shower gel freshness) and the blurred, cloying-amber spiciness of a 1 Million arise.

All in all, this is a very simply constructed, pure functional fragrance that caters to the cool and modern aesthetic of the Porsche brand. Without nuances, without soul. It smells fresh and clean like a scent profile that is familiar and mass-compatible: shower gel. For such a brand with its market position, this is certainly not reprehensible. But also without any ambition.

For lovers of complex, artistic fragrances, this type is certainly something like an anti-perfume. However, if one can appreciate this fragrance character and an unabashed designer synthetic, I find it to be a still acceptable representative that presents its artificiality - compared to the status quo - in a almost refreshingly restrained manner.