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Nomen est Omen
Can you buy a fragrance just because of its name?
For some mysterious reason, I am firmly convinced that I like scents with cyclamen. And a few search parameters while browsing through the Parfumo universe are indeed more than helpful, so that day I used the keyword "cyclamen."
Thus, I stumbled upon "Lightscape" and was immediately fascinated. What a word, "light landscape," in my mind's eye, wonderful mountains of clouds quickly built up in an infinitely vast, yellow-tinged sky, light, carefree, worry-free... It's quite strange what associations a single word, which you are hearing (reading) for the first time, can trigger.
Of course, I did NOT immediately buy the fragrance next but clicked on it to read more about what it was really about. Clouds seemed too improbable to me. However, the keywords galbanum, cyclamen, and violet were indeed enough to manifest an immediate, urgent desire to test it and to classify the less promising ingredients, such as cashmere wood and cedarwood, as negligible. (A recklessness that often backfires, but that's just a side note.)
Thanks to ALzD, I was soon able to test the fragrance, and sometimes the imagination aligns with reality. Thus, a bottle has indeed found its way to me. Because of its name, and because it simply smells good.
Since this is a perfume review, it would be unfortunate to put a period at this point. So what does Lightscape smell like?
This question is not so easy for me to answer, as I perceive Lightscape somehow as a whole, which is certainly also due to the not very pronounced scent development.
I would like to start with what it does not smell like: no fabric softener, no freshly showered, no freshly creamed, not aquatic, not citrusy, and (thankfully) not woody.
I would most likely describe Lightscape as a cool winter floral scent. The scent of a cyclamen on a cool windowsill, figuratively speaking.
I assume that galbanum, (alpine) violet, and iris are the main players here, creating this cold floral accord. I cannot perceive rose. The other more substantial components listed in the fragrance notes, such as musk, ambrette, tonka, etc., form the finely woven background and contribute warmth, which, in combination with the cool flowers, results in a very balanced fragrance composition.
Overall, Lightscape is a light fragrance, as the name suggests, which in English is used for the illumination of a (e.g., park) landscape or even the pure creation of a light world made up of many small lights.
It is a scent that surrounds you like a fragrant aura without drifting into clean scent vibes.
I mainly wear it for myself at home, primarily on weekends; it is exactly the "no-perfume-today" scent I have been looking for a long time.
Of course, you can also wear Lightscape outside your four walls ;-)
It has proven itself on the recent days over 30 degrees, where (for me) any stronger scent would have been too much.
I consider the fragrance suitable for year-round wear (although it does seem a bit softer in summer than in the cold season) and absolutely unisex.
One more word about the bottle. It is surprisingly light (plexiglass?) and will certainly not entice flacon aficionados with its simple appearance. But you don't buy a fragrance just because of its bottle. Or do you? ;-)
For some mysterious reason, I am firmly convinced that I like scents with cyclamen. And a few search parameters while browsing through the Parfumo universe are indeed more than helpful, so that day I used the keyword "cyclamen."
Thus, I stumbled upon "Lightscape" and was immediately fascinated. What a word, "light landscape," in my mind's eye, wonderful mountains of clouds quickly built up in an infinitely vast, yellow-tinged sky, light, carefree, worry-free... It's quite strange what associations a single word, which you are hearing (reading) for the first time, can trigger.
Of course, I did NOT immediately buy the fragrance next but clicked on it to read more about what it was really about. Clouds seemed too improbable to me. However, the keywords galbanum, cyclamen, and violet were indeed enough to manifest an immediate, urgent desire to test it and to classify the less promising ingredients, such as cashmere wood and cedarwood, as negligible. (A recklessness that often backfires, but that's just a side note.)
Thanks to ALzD, I was soon able to test the fragrance, and sometimes the imagination aligns with reality. Thus, a bottle has indeed found its way to me. Because of its name, and because it simply smells good.
Since this is a perfume review, it would be unfortunate to put a period at this point. So what does Lightscape smell like?
This question is not so easy for me to answer, as I perceive Lightscape somehow as a whole, which is certainly also due to the not very pronounced scent development.
I would like to start with what it does not smell like: no fabric softener, no freshly showered, no freshly creamed, not aquatic, not citrusy, and (thankfully) not woody.
I would most likely describe Lightscape as a cool winter floral scent. The scent of a cyclamen on a cool windowsill, figuratively speaking.
I assume that galbanum, (alpine) violet, and iris are the main players here, creating this cold floral accord. I cannot perceive rose. The other more substantial components listed in the fragrance notes, such as musk, ambrette, tonka, etc., form the finely woven background and contribute warmth, which, in combination with the cool flowers, results in a very balanced fragrance composition.
Overall, Lightscape is a light fragrance, as the name suggests, which in English is used for the illumination of a (e.g., park) landscape or even the pure creation of a light world made up of many small lights.
It is a scent that surrounds you like a fragrant aura without drifting into clean scent vibes.
I mainly wear it for myself at home, primarily on weekends; it is exactly the "no-perfume-today" scent I have been looking for a long time.
Of course, you can also wear Lightscape outside your four walls ;-)
It has proven itself on the recent days over 30 degrees, where (for me) any stronger scent would have been too much.
I consider the fragrance suitable for year-round wear (although it does seem a bit softer in summer than in the cold season) and absolutely unisex.
One more word about the bottle. It is surprisingly light (plexiglass?) and will certainly not entice flacon aficionados with its simple appearance. But you don't buy a fragrance just because of its bottle. Or do you? ;-)
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The Exception
Everyone has their fragrance notes that they simply "can't stand," which can ruin the most beautiful scent and make one cautious even when studying the fragrance pyramid of a promising test candidate, noticeably diminishing enthusiasm.
For me, lily of the valley is such a red flag, as soon as it exceeds a certain intensity. This aversion is so strong that I didn't even need a longer study of perfumes to identify it; lily of the valley and I - no.
I first encountered Kelly Caleche at the beginning of my perfume journey. I can’t remember if I consciously purchased the sample or received it as a gift, but I do remember that after the first test, it was immediately clear to me that this scent was definitely not for me. Lily of the valley overkill; the rose could be as beautiful as it wanted afterward - simply no.
This could be where the comment ends, but it is not.
Because the sample, of course, did not end up in the trash but in the - probably found in every perfume household - sample box. A collection place for everything that comes into the house in terms of samples and decants and meets with little to no enthusiasm or at least indifference. At rather irregular intervals, I then feel the urge to rummage through the box, and I give some scents a second chance. Although, since the scents probably don’t care whether I like them or not, I’m more likely giving myself a second chance in that case.
So, after a longer time, Kelly came back under my nose, but with the same result - not at all - no remains no.
Some time ago, I shifted my testing focus to leather. That creaky saddle leather fresh from the tanner is not my thing, and that doesn’t need to change, but finding a wild leather gem would be nice. And so, while sifting through the perfume pages for the best-of-best-of wild leather, Kelly Caleche inevitably appeared on the radar again. (“Didn’t I have a sample of that? That was the stuff that didn’t work at all. On the other hand, if it’s still there, why not....”) Indeed, the sample was still there. And indeed, there is always an exception to the rule.
Because this time - no, I didn’t find the scent immediately super great, no, this time I didn’t find the top note so unbearable. Actually, rather interesting. Quite interesting. And above all, it was indeed quite short, and from the heart note, this lovely rose developed. Fresh, but not cold. A truly warm rose scent that still comes without oud or vanilla, doesn’t swing a patchouli club, and doesn’t smell overly clean at all.
Was the sample now spoiled? Or my nose?
Here, a decant was definitely needed. Despite Murphy’s Law (“The scents you urgently need to test are never available in the souk”), I received a decant from a nice perfumer upon request (thank you again at this point!).
And the subsequent intensive test revealed that, on the one hand, the sample had indeed lost some of its spritziness, but on the other hand, my nose could certainly get along with lily of the valley. To be precise, the lily of the valley lost its dominance with each further test; by now, I perceive the top note quite differently. So here is "the truth" about Kelly Caleche:
The scent starts cyphrig-bitter, in that sense very mature and for a brief moment also quite intense. The slightly bitter base note (probably grapefruit) is clearly perceptible, but as a pleasant kick, a "hint," so to speak. To me, this bitter note - whether grapefruit or not - already smells wild leathery.
Relatively quickly, the intensity of the top note fades away and transitions into the heart note as a (leather-like) base tone. Here, the rose clearly dominates for my nose, as already mentioned, fresh, non-soapy, and not at all sassy-cold, as fresh rose can often be for me. I assume that the tuberose and mimosa mentioned in the fragrance pyramid provide the background warmth that fascinates me so much about the scent. However, I can’t directly smell these two.
There is no direct transition to the base; the rose gradually fades away and gives way to the wild leather. I cannot detect iris in the base, at least not any iris of the usual fresh or even carroty kind. I perceive the base as pure wild leather in the best sense and very long-lasting.
The sillage should - depending on the spray amount - be in the rather medium range. In my opinion, Kelly is a scent that one wears for oneself and one’s close ones, not a party hit. A scent that envelops you in a warm, fragrant aura, but doesn’t leave a veil over four floors. I noticed that on my skin, the wild leather stands out more, while on clothing, the rose does.
The longevity is quite decent for an EdT, at about 4 hours until the base tone, allowing one to perceive the scent on oneself for a long time and let it fade away slowly or also reapply without any unwanted "doubling effects."
Kelly Caleche is certainly a scent that stays in memory, definitely stands out from the current sweet-oudy-edible fragrance scheme, and has the potential to be a signature scent.
In my opinion, Kelly is suitable and wearable for all occasions and also transcends seasons. Whether also in the height of summer, I will still find out.
Because Kelly Caleche has now moved in with me as a bottle. I owed it to her ;)
For me, lily of the valley is such a red flag, as soon as it exceeds a certain intensity. This aversion is so strong that I didn't even need a longer study of perfumes to identify it; lily of the valley and I - no.
I first encountered Kelly Caleche at the beginning of my perfume journey. I can’t remember if I consciously purchased the sample or received it as a gift, but I do remember that after the first test, it was immediately clear to me that this scent was definitely not for me. Lily of the valley overkill; the rose could be as beautiful as it wanted afterward - simply no.
This could be where the comment ends, but it is not.
Because the sample, of course, did not end up in the trash but in the - probably found in every perfume household - sample box. A collection place for everything that comes into the house in terms of samples and decants and meets with little to no enthusiasm or at least indifference. At rather irregular intervals, I then feel the urge to rummage through the box, and I give some scents a second chance. Although, since the scents probably don’t care whether I like them or not, I’m more likely giving myself a second chance in that case.
So, after a longer time, Kelly came back under my nose, but with the same result - not at all - no remains no.
Some time ago, I shifted my testing focus to leather. That creaky saddle leather fresh from the tanner is not my thing, and that doesn’t need to change, but finding a wild leather gem would be nice. And so, while sifting through the perfume pages for the best-of-best-of wild leather, Kelly Caleche inevitably appeared on the radar again. (“Didn’t I have a sample of that? That was the stuff that didn’t work at all. On the other hand, if it’s still there, why not....”) Indeed, the sample was still there. And indeed, there is always an exception to the rule.
Because this time - no, I didn’t find the scent immediately super great, no, this time I didn’t find the top note so unbearable. Actually, rather interesting. Quite interesting. And above all, it was indeed quite short, and from the heart note, this lovely rose developed. Fresh, but not cold. A truly warm rose scent that still comes without oud or vanilla, doesn’t swing a patchouli club, and doesn’t smell overly clean at all.
Was the sample now spoiled? Or my nose?
Here, a decant was definitely needed. Despite Murphy’s Law (“The scents you urgently need to test are never available in the souk”), I received a decant from a nice perfumer upon request (thank you again at this point!).
And the subsequent intensive test revealed that, on the one hand, the sample had indeed lost some of its spritziness, but on the other hand, my nose could certainly get along with lily of the valley. To be precise, the lily of the valley lost its dominance with each further test; by now, I perceive the top note quite differently. So here is "the truth" about Kelly Caleche:
The scent starts cyphrig-bitter, in that sense very mature and for a brief moment also quite intense. The slightly bitter base note (probably grapefruit) is clearly perceptible, but as a pleasant kick, a "hint," so to speak. To me, this bitter note - whether grapefruit or not - already smells wild leathery.
Relatively quickly, the intensity of the top note fades away and transitions into the heart note as a (leather-like) base tone. Here, the rose clearly dominates for my nose, as already mentioned, fresh, non-soapy, and not at all sassy-cold, as fresh rose can often be for me. I assume that the tuberose and mimosa mentioned in the fragrance pyramid provide the background warmth that fascinates me so much about the scent. However, I can’t directly smell these two.
There is no direct transition to the base; the rose gradually fades away and gives way to the wild leather. I cannot detect iris in the base, at least not any iris of the usual fresh or even carroty kind. I perceive the base as pure wild leather in the best sense and very long-lasting.
The sillage should - depending on the spray amount - be in the rather medium range. In my opinion, Kelly is a scent that one wears for oneself and one’s close ones, not a party hit. A scent that envelops you in a warm, fragrant aura, but doesn’t leave a veil over four floors. I noticed that on my skin, the wild leather stands out more, while on clothing, the rose does.
The longevity is quite decent for an EdT, at about 4 hours until the base tone, allowing one to perceive the scent on oneself for a long time and let it fade away slowly or also reapply without any unwanted "doubling effects."
Kelly Caleche is certainly a scent that stays in memory, definitely stands out from the current sweet-oudy-edible fragrance scheme, and has the potential to be a signature scent.
In my opinion, Kelly is suitable and wearable for all occasions and also transcends seasons. Whether also in the height of summer, I will still find out.
Because Kelly Caleche has now moved in with me as a bottle. I owed it to her ;)
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Mmmm - you smell good
Autumn 2016: "Mmmm, you smell good." "Oh, it's just a fragrance I'm testing, nothing special." "It smells good on you!"
An unsolicited comment about a fragrance, and such a positive one at that, made me think. I had actually mentally filed "Mmmm" away as quite nice but unremarkable, when this compliment from my otherwise rather quiet daughter in terms of perfumes gave me pause. So I ordered a second sample and wore it several times... but the spark just wouldn't ignite.
Somehow, there was no Neroli to be detected here; I missed its typical freshness, and the scent seemed oddly dull to me. So the sample ended up in the box, where it fell back into my hands this autumn...
The seasoned perfume enthusiast suspects what comes next: exactly, the scent was wonderful! How could I not have liked it the previous year? Not dull at all, no, warm and very balanced, with just the right sweetness to be pleasing all day long. In any case, it is currently one of my favorite companions through the gray season. And how does it smell now?
Well, as already mentioned, the listed Neroli/orange blossoms are definitely not dominant; there is no "cologne-like" freshness. The jasmine and tuberose also do not stand out; both can quickly become too much for me, but here they are not intrusive at all. Essentially, it is a perfectly tuned harmony of the listed fragrance notes that results in a rather consistently evolving scent. Mmmm starts with a brief burst that quickly settles into a medium sillage and then lingers for a long time before transitioning into the truly beautiful, woody-creamy base.
What makes this fragrance particularly special and also particularly pleasant for me is the raspberry. Please do not think of raspberry candies here; it’s more about raspberry bushes, so to speak. Fruits and fresh leaves. I pondered for a while on how to best describe the present, somehow delicious yet simultaneously restrained sweetness of the scent: warm fresh fruity jam, as it oozes from a freshly baked puff pastry, comes closest to what I can express. However, Mmmm is not a gourmand; it does not smell edible, and you do not smell like a treat with it, but simply very good.
I have noticed that Mmmm seems to be particularly well-received by my male colleagues, in the sense of being perceived as very pleasant and, as DonJuan already wrote, delicious. At the same time, Mmmm is never intrusive; the sillage is not strong enough for that.
Mmmm is very long-lasting; the base is still clearly perceptible even after 8 hours. Overall, it is rather subtle in its projection, so I like to reapply it after 3-4 hours. This works very well with Mmmm since it does not have a significant development, thus avoiding any unwanted overlaps.
I can't say anything about the bottle, as I only know the picture so far. That will likely change very soon....
Conclusion: Mmmm is a very pleasant, long-lasting but rather unobtrusive and by no means too sweet daytime fragrance for the colder season. I wouldn't categorize it by age; rather, it is occasion-based - office, leisure, evenings with friends, relaxing at home - simply a feel-good scent. For going out, it is definitely too weak, and it does not exude the seriousness of a successful businesswoman. For that, you have other fragrances.
An unsolicited comment about a fragrance, and such a positive one at that, made me think. I had actually mentally filed "Mmmm" away as quite nice but unremarkable, when this compliment from my otherwise rather quiet daughter in terms of perfumes gave me pause. So I ordered a second sample and wore it several times... but the spark just wouldn't ignite.
Somehow, there was no Neroli to be detected here; I missed its typical freshness, and the scent seemed oddly dull to me. So the sample ended up in the box, where it fell back into my hands this autumn...
The seasoned perfume enthusiast suspects what comes next: exactly, the scent was wonderful! How could I not have liked it the previous year? Not dull at all, no, warm and very balanced, with just the right sweetness to be pleasing all day long. In any case, it is currently one of my favorite companions through the gray season. And how does it smell now?
Well, as already mentioned, the listed Neroli/orange blossoms are definitely not dominant; there is no "cologne-like" freshness. The jasmine and tuberose also do not stand out; both can quickly become too much for me, but here they are not intrusive at all. Essentially, it is a perfectly tuned harmony of the listed fragrance notes that results in a rather consistently evolving scent. Mmmm starts with a brief burst that quickly settles into a medium sillage and then lingers for a long time before transitioning into the truly beautiful, woody-creamy base.
What makes this fragrance particularly special and also particularly pleasant for me is the raspberry. Please do not think of raspberry candies here; it’s more about raspberry bushes, so to speak. Fruits and fresh leaves. I pondered for a while on how to best describe the present, somehow delicious yet simultaneously restrained sweetness of the scent: warm fresh fruity jam, as it oozes from a freshly baked puff pastry, comes closest to what I can express. However, Mmmm is not a gourmand; it does not smell edible, and you do not smell like a treat with it, but simply very good.
I have noticed that Mmmm seems to be particularly well-received by my male colleagues, in the sense of being perceived as very pleasant and, as DonJuan already wrote, delicious. At the same time, Mmmm is never intrusive; the sillage is not strong enough for that.
Mmmm is very long-lasting; the base is still clearly perceptible even after 8 hours. Overall, it is rather subtle in its projection, so I like to reapply it after 3-4 hours. This works very well with Mmmm since it does not have a significant development, thus avoiding any unwanted overlaps.
I can't say anything about the bottle, as I only know the picture so far. That will likely change very soon....
Conclusion: Mmmm is a very pleasant, long-lasting but rather unobtrusive and by no means too sweet daytime fragrance for the colder season. I wouldn't categorize it by age; rather, it is occasion-based - office, leisure, evenings with friends, relaxing at home - simply a feel-good scent. For going out, it is definitely too weak, and it does not exude the seriousness of a successful businesswoman. For that, you have other fragrances.
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(M)A Fragrance for All Seasons
I discovered Datura Noir last July, thanks to a recommendation from a friend who is a perfumer, who also kindly provided me with her bottle for testing (thank you again, dear Angelique!). This was before I joined Parfumo, so I approached the test completely "unbiased" by comments. Well, the recommendation turned out to be a hit, and a week later I could call a bottle of Datura Noir my own.
With interest, I later read the very ambivalent reviews of the fragrance, as well as the newer comments. It seems that DN is perceived very differently, which prompts me to describe another facet of its perception here.
For me/on me, DN is a very soft, floral-creamy scent. By creamy, I do not mean a clean Nivea-like cream, but rather the scent of a very luxurious sun lotion, the smell of sun-warmed skin after a long day at the beach. Unlike many perfumes described as sunscreen scents, it is not Neroli that creates the sunny impression here, but a subtle hint of coconut(oil).
The very coconutty impression described by some testers was only present for me once, during the very first test, on the evening of a 30-degree July day (not the perfect time to test a fragrance, but I simply couldn't wait any longer ;)). Since then, I have not perceived the coconut note as dominant.
The fragrance development of DN compared to its perception is what I find truly fascinating about this scent. The fragrance does not undergo a significant evolution on me; I notice neither a medicinal opening nor do individual scent components dominate.
The top note is only slightly distinguished from the heart note by a very faintly bitter addition (the myrrh, I assume), then the scent remains the same for hours, in a very balanced composition. The floral main actors Osmanthus, Heliotrope, Datura, and Tuberose are slightly tempered by bitter almond, which would otherwise likely overwhelm with sweetness; the rest of the ingredients (I cannot for the life of me detect vanilla, apricot, or even lemon blossom as individual components) contribute to the creamy impression and give the fragrance a wonderfully soft depth. As already mentioned, coconut brings a touch of exoticism into play. There is no noticeable change in the base note; the scent slowly fades away.
So far for the fairly constant fragrance development, now to the perception. I have now worn DN through three seasons, both at 30 degrees in summer and at 15 degrees below zero in winter, and remarkably, the fragrance adapts to the season. While in summer the not unwelcome sunscreen association was at the forefront, Datura has now proven to be a cozy olfactory addition in winter. At lower temperatures, the fragrance feels even more complex to me and like an additional warming layer - I can't describe it any other way.
Conclusion
Datura is a sweet fragrance, and one must like that. For this reason, it seems anything but unisex to me, and the comments from male testers also suggest that it does not necessarily shine on men's skin. However, Datura is absolutely suitable for everyday wear. I have worn it many times in the office and have received only positive feedback about the scent so far. Even during sports, I have worn it this winter several times and have not had any issues - this is possible due to its inherently moderate sillage. Datura is a very long-lasting fragrance that you can easily perceive on yourself for 10 hours. Its projection is not too strong; it surrounds you with a distinctly noticeable scent aura, but with normal dosing, you will not leave a scent trail across the hallway. I find the sillage perfectly adjusted to the sweetness and heaviness of the fragrance, as this is what makes it so suitable for everyday wear.
The slender bottle is very handbag-friendly in size, and the screw cap along with the additional screw-on spray head makes transferring to small travel atomizers very easy.
For me, Datura Noir is a perfect fragrance for all seasons that fits into any season and especially into the office (40 hours a week need to be scented), smells well-groomed and feminine, and lifts the mood with its "sunshine." I recommend testing it for anyone who does not have a fundamental problem with sweet-floral scents.
With interest, I later read the very ambivalent reviews of the fragrance, as well as the newer comments. It seems that DN is perceived very differently, which prompts me to describe another facet of its perception here.
For me/on me, DN is a very soft, floral-creamy scent. By creamy, I do not mean a clean Nivea-like cream, but rather the scent of a very luxurious sun lotion, the smell of sun-warmed skin after a long day at the beach. Unlike many perfumes described as sunscreen scents, it is not Neroli that creates the sunny impression here, but a subtle hint of coconut(oil).
The very coconutty impression described by some testers was only present for me once, during the very first test, on the evening of a 30-degree July day (not the perfect time to test a fragrance, but I simply couldn't wait any longer ;)). Since then, I have not perceived the coconut note as dominant.
The fragrance development of DN compared to its perception is what I find truly fascinating about this scent. The fragrance does not undergo a significant evolution on me; I notice neither a medicinal opening nor do individual scent components dominate.
The top note is only slightly distinguished from the heart note by a very faintly bitter addition (the myrrh, I assume), then the scent remains the same for hours, in a very balanced composition. The floral main actors Osmanthus, Heliotrope, Datura, and Tuberose are slightly tempered by bitter almond, which would otherwise likely overwhelm with sweetness; the rest of the ingredients (I cannot for the life of me detect vanilla, apricot, or even lemon blossom as individual components) contribute to the creamy impression and give the fragrance a wonderfully soft depth. As already mentioned, coconut brings a touch of exoticism into play. There is no noticeable change in the base note; the scent slowly fades away.
So far for the fairly constant fragrance development, now to the perception. I have now worn DN through three seasons, both at 30 degrees in summer and at 15 degrees below zero in winter, and remarkably, the fragrance adapts to the season. While in summer the not unwelcome sunscreen association was at the forefront, Datura has now proven to be a cozy olfactory addition in winter. At lower temperatures, the fragrance feels even more complex to me and like an additional warming layer - I can't describe it any other way.
Conclusion
Datura is a sweet fragrance, and one must like that. For this reason, it seems anything but unisex to me, and the comments from male testers also suggest that it does not necessarily shine on men's skin. However, Datura is absolutely suitable for everyday wear. I have worn it many times in the office and have received only positive feedback about the scent so far. Even during sports, I have worn it this winter several times and have not had any issues - this is possible due to its inherently moderate sillage. Datura is a very long-lasting fragrance that you can easily perceive on yourself for 10 hours. Its projection is not too strong; it surrounds you with a distinctly noticeable scent aura, but with normal dosing, you will not leave a scent trail across the hallway. I find the sillage perfectly adjusted to the sweetness and heaviness of the fragrance, as this is what makes it so suitable for everyday wear.
The slender bottle is very handbag-friendly in size, and the screw cap along with the additional screw-on spray head makes transferring to small travel atomizers very easy.
For me, Datura Noir is a perfect fragrance for all seasons that fits into any season and especially into the office (40 hours a week need to be scented), smells well-groomed and feminine, and lifts the mood with its "sunshine." I recommend testing it for anyone who does not have a fundamental problem with sweet-floral scents.
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A Lance for Johana
...I would like to break today.
For those who do not like rose scents, who are not particularly into gourmands, or who skip past incense in the fragrance pyramid - I can wholeheartedly recommend a test of Johana. This fragrance manages to combine the included ingredients into an exceedingly fragrant total work of art, where no single note stands out and disrupts the harmony.
I can only perceive the top note on the test strip, where the chrysanthemum is accompanied by a slightly medicinal galbanum, giving the opening a bitter freshness. However, on the skin, this effect is immediately caught up by the heart note, unfolding a bitter-sweet fragrance cocoon that gently and soothingly envelops the wearer for the next few hours, then fades into the base without any significant change.
Dominating is the cocoa, whose gourmand sweetness is consistently kept in check by a bitter floral note. Angua hit the nail on the head with her comment calling it "flower chocolate." Normally, rose jumps out at me in fragrances and makes all other notes fade away. Here, this is clearly not the case - the rose makes a subtle contribution and integrates beautifully. I unfortunately do not know how wisteria smells, nor can I pinpoint the iris as a standalone note. Patchouli does its job in the background, adding depth and longevity to the fragrance. I cannot detect the incense to save my life, and vanilla thankfully remains understated.
For me, Johana is clearly a warm comfort scent; its gentle aura caresses the soul. That sounds very poetic now, but I cannot express it any other way. The fragrance lasts a good 5 - 6 hours, but remains rather close to the skin, so you definitely cannot overapply it.
I discovered Johana during the last hot weeks and even wore it gladly in these high temperatures. This would certainly not be to everyone's taste, but the moderate sillage ensures that one does not become an olfactory nuisance.
Now I am looking forward to the upcoming cooler season, in which Johana will likely even enhance its radiance.
Test recommendation for all those who find pure gourmands simply too much of a good (sweet) thing.
For those who do not like rose scents, who are not particularly into gourmands, or who skip past incense in the fragrance pyramid - I can wholeheartedly recommend a test of Johana. This fragrance manages to combine the included ingredients into an exceedingly fragrant total work of art, where no single note stands out and disrupts the harmony.
I can only perceive the top note on the test strip, where the chrysanthemum is accompanied by a slightly medicinal galbanum, giving the opening a bitter freshness. However, on the skin, this effect is immediately caught up by the heart note, unfolding a bitter-sweet fragrance cocoon that gently and soothingly envelops the wearer for the next few hours, then fades into the base without any significant change.
Dominating is the cocoa, whose gourmand sweetness is consistently kept in check by a bitter floral note. Angua hit the nail on the head with her comment calling it "flower chocolate." Normally, rose jumps out at me in fragrances and makes all other notes fade away. Here, this is clearly not the case - the rose makes a subtle contribution and integrates beautifully. I unfortunately do not know how wisteria smells, nor can I pinpoint the iris as a standalone note. Patchouli does its job in the background, adding depth and longevity to the fragrance. I cannot detect the incense to save my life, and vanilla thankfully remains understated.
For me, Johana is clearly a warm comfort scent; its gentle aura caresses the soul. That sounds very poetic now, but I cannot express it any other way. The fragrance lasts a good 5 - 6 hours, but remains rather close to the skin, so you definitely cannot overapply it.
I discovered Johana during the last hot weeks and even wore it gladly in these high temperatures. This would certainly not be to everyone's taste, but the moderate sillage ensures that one does not become an olfactory nuisance.
Now I am looking forward to the upcoming cooler season, in which Johana will likely even enhance its radiance.
Test recommendation for all those who find pure gourmands simply too much of a good (sweet) thing.
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