Profuma

"Lipstick, Powder and Paint..."
So sang Shakin' Stevens back in 1985, and this very song title came to mind as I sprayed 1889 - Moulin Rouge.
Especially with "Lipstick," I linger, as this note is so powerful that it stands out from all the others.
And like many others, I begin my story where I believe I can most perceive this "Lipstick" scent.
So please forgive me for any unintended similarities or potential complete overlaps in wording.

Those who wish to skip the following story may scroll to the brief assessment.

The door closes behind Candice LaRose.
She briefly leans against the smooth wood that separates her from the hungry crowd at the stage and her dressing room and exhales deeply and long.
With a small jerk, she sets herself in motion and walks slowly to her makeup table.
The pink velvet chair in front catches her elfin, ballet-shaped body.
Her gaze sweeps over jars, brushes, and bottles up to the mirror, and she looks at herself for a long time until she says to herself, "You're getting old, girl."

The shows take a toll on her strength. The audience demands a lot.
Showing weakness is not an option. One quickly becomes a sinking star when one reveals the vulnerable person behind the facade to the crowd.
They want to see the sparkling, radiant, beautiful, and desirable Candice, and they want to have her, no matter how she feels about it.

For many years, she has been going through this routine. But increasingly, the party life after the show is replacing a completely different ritual.
A rush to the dressing room, falling into the chair, pouring a glass of absinthe, sipping a little of it, and then sifting through the bouquets of flowers left on cards from admirers.

Usually, the senders are always the same, and the choice of flowers often reveals them even without a card. But new ones come along, just like on this evening.
An unusually arranged lush bouquet of pink roses and blue-violet iris flowers has never been there before.
The scent emanating from it is intense and captivating, blending with the absinthe cloud in the room.
Candice would love to know who sent it to her, but the accompanying card is blank, except for a question mark.

There are five knocks in a special sequence.
Candice knows exactly who it is, and her gaze brightens and softens.

Sally, the cleaning lady, arrives as she does every evening when Candice has a performance.
Neither of the women minds the other's presence. On the contrary. Over the years, they have become good friends, even close confidantes.
They talk about every evening and every performance, about the audience and the very special guests who honor the establishment.
Of course, the unusual bouquet is also a topic.
The ladies are eager to know who the sender is, and a feeling stirs within Candice that she hasn't allowed herself to feel in a long time. A flicker of hope and longing. Could serious intentions lie behind this unusual floral display?
Why else would such expressive flowers be mixed together if there wasn't a message behind it?
Her little heart begins to beat faster with these thoughts.

Candice lives alone in a small attic apartment, in the shadow of the city. She has always kept admirers at a distance, showing none her true self. Her fear of having her delicate heart broken is too great.
The brief acquaintances have already shown her how her admirers see her. And none of them want the real Candice. And none would notice her on the street when she is out as herself, unmade-up, in loose dresses, pulled-down hats, and flat shoes.
She gets lost in the city's machinery, like a single pixel in the resolution of a gigantic image.
She is only seen when she stands in glittery dresses and high heels in the spotlight of the stage, giving the audience what they paid for.

While Candice removes her makeup, Sally tidies up the clothes that were hastily thrown somewhere during the costume change. The shoes are placed in pairs under the dresses that are draped back in order, and then she lays out Candice's things for the journey home.
A pair of jeans, a blouse, a scarf, some scuffed ballerinas, and a gray coat will be her companions on the way home.

A little later, after Sally has already left, Candice reaches for her small handbag.
Under the open coat, a bulge is visible.
She has hidden a very special bouquet in it, which she holds almost tenderly against herself.
At the door, she pulls the scarf up over her face and carefully drapes the coat over the bouquet.
Then she turns off the light and steps out through the side exit into the night.

Barely audible, the soles of her little shoes scurry over the cobblestones. The delicate shadow is almost immediately swallowed by the darkness of the alleys and the waiting oblivion there.

Tomorrow evening, however, the woman will again be Candice LaRose, the radiant object of desire and the star in the small shining show sky of the variety.
And on the same evening, she will also return to being the loneliest heart in the city.

Brief assessment:

Even at the spray head, I can identify the lipstick note without even activating it.
A quick press and it rides the air around my face as if it were fleeing!
I can also clearly detect ripe plum and absinthe. The roses are the hedge that allows the lipstick note to rise and slow down a bit.
A marvelous combination emerges from all these notes that I have never sniffed before.
From my skin, which I also scent with the fragrance, a pleasant warmth rises that makes these notes even softer and simultaneously deeper.
I find the scent mature and ripe, yet elegant and slightly melancholic, somehow soft and erotic, but at the same time very high-quality and always perfectly balanced.

Her name is Coco.
And somehow she is not satisfied with herself and her existence.
She has a beautiful home, a nice owner, is surrounded by many other companions, and has traveled the world.
But she has always felt like she is not enough... not belonging...

In Coco, a decision is now maturing.
Something must change.
She must change so that something changes for her owner as well.
A complete transformation is needed.

For those who find this change too time-consuming, please scroll to the brief assessment.

I will now give Coco a form to make her more tangible in this story.
Let’s think.
What kind of shell would suit her and her journey best?

A small gray caterpillar with salmon-pink spots comes to mind.
She doesn’t stand out like other caterpillars her age. But the spots give her a very special character.

Coco finds a cozy spot. It must be perfectly chosen.
It should be quiet, well-tempered, and dry, and she must not be disturbed in her endeavor.
For a while, she wanders around, but then. For a moment, she pauses.
This little white cabinet, with a door slightly ajar, seems perfect.
Carefully, Coco crawls inside and looks around. At first, her eyes need to adjust to the dim light, but then she recognizes something.
She sees many familiar faces smiling lovingly at her.
Madame Rochas is there, Aunts Lancôme and Cartier, Cousin Dior, Uncle Laurent, and Uncle Givenchy watch her enter the realm she left long ago.
"We missed you..." whispers a tender voice. Guerlain, Coco's long-time confidante, pushes her way through the others to her.
Now Coco knows this is the right place to undergo her transformation.

Accompanied by the benevolent gazes of the others, she works her way to the back corner of the cabinet. She attaches a small silk thread to the ceiling just above her. Then she slowly spins herself in until she is completely covered in her silk.
A kind of lid will later allow her to exit the cocoon.
As Coco's movements in the casing become less and less and eventually come to a complete stop, all those who have curiously followed her work turn back towards the cabinet opening.
They all agree that they will protect the cocoon and the companion inside it as best as they can.

After a few weeks, Guerlain, who is closest, is the first to hear the soft rustling from the cocoon. Excitedly, she nudges the others beside her. Within seconds, everyone has turned around and is gazing intently at the corner.
Did everything go well? What will Coco look like?
And how will she smell?

The cocoon moves. It cracks softly at first, then more and more.
A murmur goes through the waiting bottles as the lid of the cocoon is finally pushed open after a few attempts.
Slowly, a silhouette becomes visible.
Broad, square shoulders like all in Coco's family can be seen.
A rather flat little hat covers her head, and a golden band adorns her delicate neck.
As a short hissing sound followed by a breathtaking fragrance is heard, everyone immediately agrees.
She is a true Coco, still a Mademoiselle but on her way to becoming a Grande Dame.
Then she descends.
The bottles form a small aisle leading Coco to the still slightly open door of the cabinet.
Coco can feel the gentle draft, see the light.
She turns to the others who have followed her and smiles at each of them in the most loving way.
With all her heart, she wants to welcome her new life.
She holds her breath for a moment, then steps out.

"What kind of bottle are you?!" I hear myself say as a bottle labeled "Coco Mademoiselle Eau de Parfum Intense" lands in my hands that morning.
I’ve never seen this one here before. How did it get here?
Is it perhaps a forgotten gift?
No matter... I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t try the fragrance right away. So I curiously press the spray head.
The scent mist rises from my wrist to my nose, and from then on, nothing is as it was before.

This is not just a fragrance; it is a revelation!
What is it called again...?
In disbelief, I look at the label.
It says Coco Mademoiselle. But I never quite warmed up to that one.
What has happened in the meantime?
Only then do I see the golden sparkling letters at the base of the bottle.
"Eau de Parfum Intense" is written there.
I immediately latch onto the word "Intense."
Within seconds, the fragrance has not only slithered up through my nose but has also found the shortest path to my heart!
This is how a Coco Mademoiselle should smell. Exactly like this!

Although the fragrance doesn’t give me butterfly wings,
I definitely feel a bit more beautiful with it.

Brief assessment:
Starts off citrusy but is quickly softened by rose and patchouli. Tonka adds depth, and vanilla rounds it off softly.
At the beginning of the line sits Coco Mademoiselle, at the end Allure Sensuelle.
In the middle, I meet Coco Mademoiselle EdP Intense.
The regular CM was always a bit too harsh, too loud for me, and had even thorns or spikes for my nose. The Intense wraps all the notes that are too loud for me in a kind of cotton.
Everything is now just as it should be for me. Balanced, round, soft, and very sensual.
The typical CM DNA is still very recognizable, but less citrusy, more mature, and much gentler. Still a sillage bomb and lasts for a perceived (dreamlike) eternity.

Unfortunately, I haven't liked the other My Way fragrances so far.
Some note has always bothered me. Either it pricked my nose, jumbled my scent receptors, or left my brain sluggish.
It's a pity because I actually like the fragrance direction.

A glimmer of hope appeared to me when I saw the "fragrance throw" of the series with the subtitle "Parfum" and the darkened bottle.
Right away, I had to think of Givenchy L'Interdit when I sprayed it, only that the roasted note is missing here.

MWP starts off quite punchy and bitter for my nose with bitter orange but is then lightly cushioned by bergamot.
Tuberose and ambrette appear arm in arm and push the top notes back a bit.
This "little wall" doesn't let much pass from then on and determines the fragrance experience with few other flashes until the end.

Personally, I don't find the scent light, as it is omnipresent from the very beginning for my nose and has considerable depth due to vanilla. The cedar skillfully determines its level of sweetness, so there is no "noticeable stickiness" but rather a sweet, soft fragrance bed.
Tuberose and ambrette behave on the fluffy bed like unruly girls, bouncing up and down on it while laughing loudly, occasionally falling into the layers and sweeping "angel" into the fabrics with their arms wide open.

No matter how I "twist and turn" the scent in my nose and head, it has considerable power for me, a sillage that is well-defined, and it also has very good longevity.
Once again, the "less is more" tip proves to be effective, as the two dominant fragrance girls do not obey and do not respond to any command.
You just have to let them be.

That's exactly why I like MWP.

Because They just do it their Way...

The perfumers sit around the round table and come to the conclusion that it’s time for Burberry to launch a new perfume.
However, since it’s only just time for them, but the great ideas for a fragrance are still completely lacking, they decide to release a potpourri of already known mainstream scents from other fragrance houses.
The result is really just about having adhered to the schedule, as the child of this half-baked project is, for me, copied and absolutely not innovative, let alone outstanding compared to other new fragrances.
It is, for me, a creation that unfortunately comes across as somewhat loveless, because it lacks individuality.
I do like the fragrance direction itself.

The start with vanilla and lavender is really good. Unfortunately, all the notes on my skin drift towards "just vanilla" after a short time, which at least shows some depth through the absolute.
But I have already smelled the goddess notes a hundred times, or at least something similar, and I find that disappointing.
The name Burberry stands for great fashion and wonderful fragrances, so I expect a corresponding little sensation from a new fragrance.
Additionally, the scent has already disappeared from my skin after half an hour. On fabric or test strips, it fortunately lasts a bit longer and remains somewhat fresher.
I would also feel sorry to have to write a total hatchet job.

Long story short: Please, dear Burberry perfumers: Feel free to release a new fragrance again, but preferably only when it’s really time for it...

At first, I think: Oh, it starts like Swiss Arabian Oriental Rose or much softer than Montale Intense Café.
But this impression lasts only a moment, then the fragrance direction shifts slightly towards the fresher, citrusy side, so I now believe I have a descendant of Ajmal Wisal Dhahab in front of me, although it sometimes feels quite cool to me.
Quickly, however, it becomes quieter and more reserved, and even this last impression eventually fades away.

On my skin, the rose finally comes through a bit more, and the scent gains a "citrusy rosiness," while saffron with its slightly bitter note comes through more on fabric.
So I have, in a way, two different fragrances from the same bottle.
The vanilla cushions everything nicely on any base, rounding the edges, and together with musk, it creates a wonderful symbiosis.
Oud remains in the background for my impression, contributing its typical note very delicately and almost casually.

Amo Ferragamo Oriental Wood definitely stands out from the other women's fragrances in the family.
A beautiful and, in my opinion, only slightly sweet oriental that delights the nose and senses with its beautiful aura and tender warmth.

I could also imagine it on a gentleman, despite the above-mentioned tendency towards women's fragrances, who finds the usual men's scents too ordinary.

Despite the restraint (with 2 sprays), I perceive it again and again.
It surrounds me like a small fragrance dome, but it never overwhelms me.

I admit it... I was drawn to it because of its beautiful bottle color.
This stunning royal blue with a slight violet gradient towards the bottom immediately captivated me.
That the scent residing in this almost magically appealing bottle is also so wonderful borders on a "Hole in One" hit for me!
Or rather, a positive fragrance experience completely "out of the Blue"!