Profuma

I get off the bus and walk a few meters. I'm already in what seems like another world. You can hear the cars on the road behind me, but somehow they are faded out by the sight of what lies ahead of me. They no longer exist, neither their colours and shapes nor their sounds. The more I immerse myself in this other world, the more I perceive the people crossing my path as shadowy. They are shadows in a world of pure glistening light. Fleeting and for me today completely insignificant, because my goal is not them, but autumn.
I'm on the hunt. Hunting for impressions. Impressions of autumn.

It's a beautiful, bright sunny day, almost kitschy picture book beautiful. The blue of the sky is indeed even bluer today. Or the colours of autumn make it shine even more. At least that is my impression. As if my walk here at the lake was shot in Technicolor, like the colorful movies like "Robin Hood, King of the Vagabonds", "Gone with the Wind" or "The Wizard of Oz" used to be. Each colour is strong, sits and imprints itself in the eye, heart and senses.
As a child I was always a little disappointed after such a film, because the world did not show itself to me exactly in this expected play of colours. The dream factory creates what our senses thirst for. A perfect world, beautiful people, touching stories and bright colors accompanied by epic sounds.
But my personal film starts right in front of me.

Already at the beginning of the path I am greeted by a tree in a bright rusty red. A little further on a tree trunk with green and multicoloured tendrils, leaves in yellow and red shades and squiggly wood, which, on closer inspection, stimulates the imagination and seems to reveal shapes or faces. As if in a trance, I float from thing to thing and press the shutter release.
The reeds swaying in the wind with their almost veiled, light-coloured panicles, the sunbathed flowers with resting insects or artistically "stretched out" spider webs, which in turn provide photogenic subjects with leaves that have got stuck. One impression chases the next.
Then suddenly I see her!
Proud. Big. Dressed in gold. So splendid it would bring a tear to one's eye. The giant birch tree stands right by the wayside.
She wants to be seen and is a much sought-after photo motif. Thousands of golden yellow leaves look like shimmering sequins and stand out in contrast to the strong blue of the sky above them. They wriggle slightly in the gentle breeze coming from the lake. Here and there a leaf comes loose and lets itself sink to the ground slowly, turning lively on the air. The golden grass around the trunk is already a sure sign. Autumn is far advanced and the days of such colourfulness are numbered.

After two hours, which I don't feel like hours but more like moments, I sit down at a table in a bistro at the lake to enjoy the warm sunrays and the soft wind in my face and to look at my captured impressions of autumn
While I am waiting for my coffee, I only now notice that during my voyage of discovery, a scent has always been wafting around my nose. Sometimes it mixed with the scent of the leaves, woods and the lake, then again it caressed my nose alone. Now that I'm sitting there, I notice how incredibly beautiful the scent is and how it has blended into the fairy tale day, as if it belonged to the pictures. I spray a little bit on the back of my hand again.
Immediately a breathtakingly beautiful team of well recognizable Campari and currant comes towards me. Wonderfully sweet and at the same time juicy and "palatable", as if a scoop of redcurrant would swim in Campari. Jasmine-Sambac immediately makes the fragrance even rounder and gains depth, still together with the opening notes and incredibly beautiful. The tobacco-like and only minimally bitter nuance of Mate Absolue skilfully underlines all this and leads to an almost high making softness. Rhubarb may be present, but stays very much in the background, so I find the currant much more present.
Meanwhile my cup of coffee is served and mixes with the fragrance. That would also be a very tasty variation for an Amo-Flanker. An "Amo Cafè" "Amo Sogno" or "Amo Délice" maybe?
But then the original scent brings me back again, because a fine rich and dense vanilla note and a piece of wood perfectly round off the previously fruity sweet and intoxicating note.
After several hours of fragrance enjoyment and back home again, the base on an ambrox breath finally floats close to my skin, but still nice and perceptible. A small spray of Ferragamo Amo later on my pillow makes my day revue and me disappear into golden dreams.
Today was a perfect day for Ferragamo Amo. Sun, blue sky, pleasant temperatures, a light breeze and a walk. He feels comfortable and I feel comfortable with him. He is a happy person with sensual touches, who enjoys enjoying and infects me with it. One can cuddle, experiences warmth and is as softly bedded. That's why I would also wear it in spring and on warmer winter days. In summer, the Camparinote might easily stick to the nose hairs and olfactory receptors.
Hopelessly in love with him, as I am with him, I will wear him even on less picture-perfect days, because he will transform them for me and before my eyes into livable and beautiful. Shot in Technicolor.
And it will now be forever linked to this one autumn day in my olfactory memory.


PS: If you feel like it, some snapshots of my day at the lake I have put in my album.

When thoughts float on clouds,
give me your grades pictures,
when your veils adorn the air,
all I can do is lose my heart.

To you, I write the ode,
one as there can be,
one I get caught up in',
maybe even a lifetime.

You do what many can't do
you may grant me amber moments
makes me pause in it,
Unfold colours, feelings and soul.

Blossoming passion flowers - Musenkuss
that I just have to write it
Count the flowers and check the rows,
you may linger for many hours

Put your hands firmly around my face
but still I don't see you.
But I feel your sweetness all the more
you're very powerful, aren't you?

Breathe vanilla breath into me
then makes me dream and be,
your fingertips with vetiver,
no place I'd rather be!

Long story short:
A thoroughbred romantic. A thick syrup with jasmine and passion flowers, which runs over vanilla beads and amber pieces.
Stir in a little vetiver with wooden sticks. The result is an autumn/winter to spring scent that lulls you into a dense, soft, noble and magically fragrant fragrance for many hours. Not sugary, but very gourmand, not exhausting but "mood lifting". But above all, not a mainstream.
If hypnosis already appeals to you or if it is not enough for you, you can find a deeper and more "full-bodied" version for cooler temperatures here.
And I would give one of my nose hairs to sniff Jasmin-Sambac or even an Absolue, as it appears in Arden Untold Absolu, or at least a rich and dark jasmine note as in Mauboussin (the pyramid bottle).

Comparison:
Hypnosis Eau de Parfum: Great woman
Hypnosis Elixir Envoûtant: Superwoman

This is the magic of the elixir...

If you look up at the steep cliffs that lead into the untamed ocean, you can see them in the moonlight.
It moves even closer to the edge and stops just before the edge of the rock, which abruptly descends into the foaming and thundering doom.

The figure with female forms braces herself against the breeze coming from the sea, her face veiled by a deeply drawn oversized hood of a flowing cape of midnight blue silk over a light-coloured lace dress. The fluttering waves of the noble fabric repeatedly draw her figure and lie restlessly and smoothly behind her on the wings of the demanding wind.
It almost seems as if he wanted to drag her back to the land behind on safe ground by the delicate silk layers.
But despite the headwind, the figure stands steadfastly at the end of the ledge and almost motionless except for the cloak waving behind him.
But then something flashes in front of her chest and falls down the cliffs towards the sea
The decorated dagger shimmers silver in the moonlight and the blade reflects the light as it rotates in flight.
There's blood on the tip.
The air resistance gradually wears away the red drops from the smooth metal until the dagger bores into the waves at the foot of the cliff with a fraction of it and disappears in them.
The masterpiece of blacksmithing art flashes through the water and continues on its way until it finally appears at the bottom of the sea and almost disappears completely in the grainy sand. The tides and the sea creatures at the bottom will play their part in making this deadly work of art more and more a secret between the lady on the cliff and the icy floods.
One with the surrounding area, the weapon will never be found here. The figure is sure of this far above the manifesting oblivion, while it has attentively followed the flight of the object with its gaze and has also been sure of its immersion and submersion for too long.
Only then does she turn, restlessly embraced by her cloak, from the edge of the rock inland and strides, her long dress slightly raised and with almost sublime steps, towards the waiting carriage.
Both disappear between jagged rock formations into the darkness, in which even the moonlight can finally no longer find them.

Is this the smell of revenge?
Does revenge even smell?

If so, then it must be like Valentino's vendetta.
Because revenge, if anything, can be quite stylish. Deadly rather only in the movie or in this dream. The victim, however, is supposed to get a last glimpse of what he has lost. The last thoughts should bring it to raison, which has become useless now.
His fate is sealed.
The victim must know this when he looks into the face of his avenging angel.

In my dream the chances are irretrievably lost, the blade flashes in the pale light of the moon shining through the windows into the stylishly furnished room in the west wing of the old Irish castle.
The two figures are dark and only slightly illuminated by moonlight from the side. Nevertheless, a scene takes place in the diffuse light, which shows the razor-sharp intention very clearly.
Finally, one of the figures approaches the other. The tension tears up the air, which is literally audible in her.
Then a sound. The figure struck by the blade drops to his knees, hand on his chest. Dark red liquid drips through the fingers onto the inlaid marquetry in the floor.
Silently, the figure looks up to his chest and then up to the person opposite, who still holds the weapon firmly in his hand.
Determined, if necessary, to repeat the previous act in order to bring the matter to an end. But it need not come to that. Almost in slow motion, the person hit moves towards the ground, where he or she comes up with a muffled sound. While blood continues to leave the lifeless body and underneath it the embedded works of art disappear into the ground under deep red, the murderer is already on her way by carriage to the big cliff, where her plan turns into the final act.
Then she'll disappear into the night.

Rarely has a fragrance from the nineties captivated me as much as Valentino Vendetta, despite its supernatural radiance or precisely because of it. He never came near me again since that time and now he knocks on my door.
My heart has not been broken for this, nor do I have a desire for revenge against anyone.
Nevertheless, the dream I associate with the word "vendetta" is eerie and beautiful at the same time, combining feminine elegance with equal vulnerability, and radiating a kind of complete disruption in which beauty and passion meet ruin. Just like the fragrance of the same name.

He has a class that is hard to find these days.
The powerful performances of a hyacinth paired with orange tones, as if cool and warm meet. A kind of brittleness, dryness and yet sensual floridity, which catches and continues the fragrance start, leaves me astonished, even if I think that this fragrance might be too big for me.
And after a while, when these aromas have united in their contrasts like harmonies, the final bouquet comes.
If you think that's all that's possible, then more is possible. It's a vendetta.
Revenge isn't halfway, it's either full or it's not.
This is also how the scent lives.
Strengthened by myrrh and proper patchouli, we are heading for the showdown.
Then, as if the work had been completed, an unheard-of femininity through musk and heliotrope is added, which appears to me here vanilla, honey-like and softened.
A note that draws the fragrance slightly into the gourmand realm but does not become sweet. Almost again a contrast, which seems to be none in this masterpiece

Vendetta can also be an enrichment for collections that are milder or more youthful. As a contrast, as a classic, as fragrant femininity and perfect elegance. For (very) special moments, big or even the gigs and for memories of now and for eternity.
Or simply to daydream with yourself.
Such moments can also be staged and enjoyed accordingly.
Especially they come off badly in these days, are often completely forgotten.
Moments to be with yourself, pause, breathe deeply and hear your heart beat.

I would never have thought that after so many years this fragrance would "catch up" with me

Another mosaic stone more in my collection, one that stands out and yet fits in.
One that I thought I didn't need, but now I'm told otherwise

Valentino Vendetta.

When revenge unites opposites.

The ship of Captain Alexandre J, the " Zafeer " has been anchored for many months. The last voyage had been very hard on her, after all she has already travelled almost all the oceans of the world. Impressive, majestic and proud, she swings thoughtfully in front of the port city. The numerous carpenters, painters and other craftsmen, who either stand, lie or hang on her to do the repairs, seem like busy ants compared to the mighty construction of the merchant ship.
Alexander J has just returned from his last voyage, which he had undertaken with a much smaller ship. He's not a man who will stay ashore for long.

As a small boy awaits his returning father, the king eagerly awaits the arrival of his world sailor. Too exciting are the stories and goods that Captain Alexandre J usually brings to him. At least this time he didn't have to be so patient, because the last journey was much shorter than he is used to.

Today the men will be among themselves as they look at the goods they have brought with them and revel in stories about the here and now or about old times. Alexandre J himself had asked the monarch shortly before his departure for this meeting without the usual invited guests.
Even though he always enjoyed the attention and even admiration of the men and women of the nobility and all the children, he has become calmer.
The strains of the many journeys, illnesses on board, strange food and an emptiness in his heart that cannot be filled for ever greater treasures and the search for true love have made the sailor age.
Nevertheless, he will probably go to sea until a breeze carries his last breath over the waves and away.

The time at court and with the king that evening is now well advanced.
Alexandre J presented new fruits, fabrics, oils, skins and furs, as well as wines and spices to an attentive listening regent with his usual elaborate words. Again and again in between, people laugh, marvel and drink.
When the last goods are put aside, the king bends over to Alexandre J to see if he is hiding something behind his back.
When he finds nothing, he moves closer to him and whispers, "Did you not find what I sent you for?
Before the sailor answers, both make sure that the queen has not entered the throne room unnoticed in the meantime.
Then they put their heads back together. With a sweeping gesture of his hand Alexandre J transports a box covered with dark red velvet and embroidered gems from an inner pocket of his cloak in front of the eyes of the monarch, which immediately causes a great stir.
Before his departure, he had asked the captain to bring him a unique treasure to give to his wife as a token of his affection.
Since she loves flowers, scented oils and perfumed water more than anything else, it should be something very special
Impatiently, the king pushes the small bar-like closing particle on the box aside, which then makes the lid pop open a small gap. But this is quite enough to give both men a pleasant smell of it already now.
He curiously lifts the lid and in front of him, wrapped in gold, lies a small red carafe with a richly decorated stopper. When he pulls out this stopper, the contents instantly exude their magic.
The scent of roses, seasoned with pepper tickles the king's nose hairs as he absorbs the escaping vapours and is completely taken in. From the glass tube attached to the stopper, an oily substance drips onto his hand, which offers the fragrance even more to unfold with its radiating warmth.

"Rose. Pepper. There must still be wood," the king nods affirmatively as he now dives his whole face into the floating vapours. "Lots of wood," he adds as he takes a deep breath of it "and, as if the fragrance were trapped in wood, it carries their common notes into the air." In fact, the fragrant veil is increasingly drawn into the atmosphere of the room, engaging, hypnotic and intoxicating.
Satisfied and confident of victory in holding the right present for his wife, the king exuberantly thanks Alexandre J, who knows like no other how to bring all kinds of delights to him in carafes, jugs or boxes.

Later in his bedchamber in the palace, Alexandre J digs out another almost identical box from another inside pocket of his cloak. He was so taken with the scent from the merchant that he purchased a copy for himself. This in case he would succumb to a love other than seafaring after all. A woman who is able to conquer his heart must be as special as the scent in the small red carafe
He pulls the plug out and awaits the aromas to flow out. Leaning back in the pillow of his bed, he enjoys once again the rose and the tickling pepper and all the wood that the king had noticed. But his nose perceives even more. A fruity hint lies in the vapours of the oil. He is sure that it is either a ripe but not overripe peach or a plum, perhaps both.
Drunk with the foggy vapours spreading in the walls of the room, he closes the bottle before he surrenders to the fragrance and his dreams that night

From today's perspective, "Rose Alba" is certainly a fragrance that can be described as unisex. Depending on the radiance of your own body scent, it can become woody, floral or fruity. Nevertheless, the pepper note will contribute its sparkling spicy note and carry and guide the fragrance. I do not perceive vanilla in its otherwise well-known way here. It seems to act on the edge or in the middle of the fruit, but where it is very reserved and certainly not noticeable through sweetness. Simply a rounding accessory that adds a balancing warmth to this composition without affecting the other components in their actions

For me, "Rose Alba" is a harmonious and balanced creation with, I think, something and really only very little "Amouage Epic Woman" vibes in it. Indeed, in the pyramids of the two pepper, rose, sandalwood and other woods, vanilla and musk are listed.
This results in this edition of "The Collector", a kind of dimmed version of the green scented jewel from Amouage.
So if you find it too strong, or if the caraway beats your stomach or picks your nose, but otherwise finds the scent appealing, you could try this red and gold scent. The whole thing is less strong and the scents are smoother in the transitions. Epic Woman shows more splitting of the individual aromas and clearer, individual projections

Meanwhile, Captain Alexandre J has long since arrived in his dreams.


Firm in his hand... the little red carafe

As the proud owner of "Gerlinesian Shalimars", these as well as their descendants are partly known to me or in the process of becoming known to me.

Sur la Route du Mexique I found an ode à la vanilla and the perfume Initial as well as the "Ur-Shalimara" carry me off again and again into their sensual dream worlds
So I couldn't avoid approaching the different breaths of the souffles. The indigo blue Intense and its pyramid connected me most with the Indigo Blue Intense at the first go and so a Tête-à-Nez.

One thing first; I am relieved that it stands out from the more typical Shalimar and vice versa. Family affiliation is evident, the body-shape underlines this even more, but he does not rely on their reputation. Here we stand on our own two feet.

Its green is fleeting, which I like,

deep it goes on, very well chosen.

His blue robe is velvet and heavy,

i like what it hides a lot

A little animal lurks hidden underneath,

you think you can smell it, it's hissing lively,

but this is the Jasmine Sambac who does it

luckily not any more, just fine.

Orange water well-done, absolute,

carries all the notes and celebrates them.

Syrupy and oily, indolish it unites,

some people too much, the smell quickly becomes an enemy.

But patience brings roses, it is written,

if you wait for vanilla, you'll love "Intense".

For this refers to what was before within limits,

many a nose will thank her for it.

Rich, full-bodied and strongly sweet,

lucky they let her in,

because it catches what started before,

makes the bed softer and then leaves it,

vanish into dreamlike swaths and veils

even that may feel like too much for some people.

But through this twist, the twist in the air,

souffle Intense becomes a dreamlike scent.

Who loves it full, balsamic and resinous,

will be amazed at what the scent gives off.

Vanilla feast in the Orient,

as you may not know him like this.

A spell, dream or poem,

lies sweetly and heavily in front of my face.

I can almost touch him

i can't explain it any other way.

A soft, dense, warm pile

and I hear myself saying, "I want some more..."