Profuma

I pull back the curtains and a bright sunny day greets me on the other side of the window pane. The sun's rays are immediately able to penetrate the air in the room with warmth. I open the window and inhale the fresh morning air floating in towards me with the breath of green grass from in front of the house, the cool breath from the adjacent forest and a mixture of blooming shrubs, flowers and balcony plants.
What am I like? I'd like to beam myself out into the morning right now!

I need to get out and explore the world. I want to know who is coming to meet me on my way, whether acquaintances or even friendships will be made or numbers exchanged in a stylish café. I just want to feel the day, the life and the energy!

The light in the bathroom is bright and dazzles a little at first. But then I can open my eyes completely and look at myself in the mirror. My complexion is beautiful and even, the colour is uniform, no red cheeks or anything. Many people think I am pale and colourless. But I attach great importance to this delicate skin tone and generally avoid direct sunlight. I do not wear make-up. I only use terracotta powder with a light iris scent for my flawless skin. The powder puff distributes it generously over me and puts its scent delicately into the air of my apartment. Anyone who comes in would recognize my home immediately, even blindfolded.
I like to wear my long, pink-tinted hair upright and perfume it with some tuberose dust before going out.
Whoever is allowed to get close enough to me will perceive my warm body scent. This dense vanilla-sandalwood elixir has almost driven some people out of their minds, especially when it has already mixed with the hair scent and the powder.

I hardly do any exercise to avoid injury. Walking in the woods?
Never! The woods and shrubs could cause unsightly scratches on my delicate body.
Out into the world? Show my curves? Of course! But simply well protected in my shell.
It consists of a nude-coloured frill blouse with small, matte glass ball buttons of the same colour with petals on top, which slip through a chained loop and hold the delicate fabric in front of my bosom in a good manner. My neck is veiled far up. In spite of the lightness of the buttoned fabric, one cannot look at the skin underneath. I like to keep my sexyness under lock and key. But not my sensuality. My long narrow skirt in the same tone as the blouse may seem boring at first sight unless you look at me from the side. Then you can recognize the long slits in it

I like meeting new people. Those with different skin smells and clothes. Those who are different from me. But preferably those who appreciate my values and have the same or similar interests.
You have to behave yourself with me, otherwise I get cold quickly. I'm not easy. Anyone who comes too close to me can feel the tips of my skin-coloured stilettos. I like closeness, but I don't like being pressed.
Whoever respects my rules, on the other hand, I open my fabrics to him, everything underneath and my heart.

Who am I?

May I?

My name is Valentina...Valentina Poudre

That was my first thought when I took the bottle out of its packaging. A beautiful, balsamic, dark amber-coloured liquid is inherent in it and promises me good things, as many of my fragrances are medium to dark water. Greenish to white, however, you will find a little less with me, as they are often chypre or white flower scents.
In fact, the original Amber Room was also rather golden and medium to dark in colour with few light spots. And also the reconstruction shines in these tones. And sensibly there is in the room, as if by chance for my fragrance story, a mosaic called "Feeling and smelling".

So I imagine that after a journey through time, I am led to the middle of the room in the Catherine Palace near St. Petersburg, which is covered all over with amber. Gradually, and in courtly reverse, the servants leave the venerable room and leave the rest to me. I may now immerse myself in history for an hour, enjoying the shapes and colours of the buildings and letting my imagination run free. In my thoughts I am the niece who is visiting and has been constantly in the family's ears until that day with the desire to see this unique room. Far too often I have heard the stories of those who were intoxicated by it.
I just have to see it!

Here I am. In a blinding light that almost hurts my eyes. The silence enters the room after the doors are closed by the servants who are leaving and the sounds of them fall silent. All I can hear is my breath, my beating heart. And my footsteps, as I curiously set myself in motion and walk in the glow of the numerous, multi-armed sconces across the highly polished floor covered with huge inlays to the first wall. Almost gently I put on one foot after the other, very careful not to leave any traces with my shoes on the valuable ground.
The inlays and mosaics in their warm light brown to dark shades look like thousands and thousands of cut pieces of sugar. Like the finest honey candies, caramels or dark vanilla drops are lined up and flow into various flower-like formations, flat ornaments or like pebbles scattered into the wall. Everything shines just like flowing honey or syrup. If the resinous stones and the furniture did not give the room its own unique scent, you could make your senses believe that you are in a fairytale candy shop where almost everything is made of aromatic sugar. Inevitably, a scent rises into my nose. I follow it and arrive at a mosaic called "Feel and smell". Could it be that the scent escapes from him?

I close my eyes and approach the portrait. With my fingers I surround the frame and the carved blossoms and forms around it and try to mentally assign their outlines to forms, like a blind man who scans and recognizes a face. And yes, my imagination sends fine scents to my face.
Warm, sweet, noble, woody, resinous. I perceive an unobtrusive hint of orange in the elaborate network of scents. Some jasmine. Everything just so that it intertwines perfectly and produces a harmonious scent. Everything seems to be mixed in equal parts. As I stand in front of the mosaic, my eyes still intoxicated and closed, a slightly animalistic note of opoponax is revealed to me, but also one that is not disturbing but carries the fragrance, just like the other preceding notes. Only nuanced woodsy to woody and herbaceous, the note continues and here too, at no time too much. The perception remains resinous and syrupy even now. Warm, balsamic and sweet, yet only minimally smoky and instead a little more honey-like, this is how the sensual carpet of scents that holds me captive in front of the portrait appears to me. Lavender contributes a micro-fine and at the same time cool soap, which is also integrated into the other molecules and, despite its almost contradictory scent character, contributes a skilful splash of colour that gently sinks into the amber tone without disappearing completely. A hint of it will remain in the fragrance as it enters the base until it is exhaled. At all times, "Knot Eau Absolue" is simply warm, very dense and almost ethereal-oily and above all very sensual.
I almost forget space and time and how long I have been standing there. I have to hurry if I want to admire everything in this room within the given hour. But as much as the other mosaics and artistically arranged portraits also captivate me, my memory always rewinds me back to the fragrant frame. After all, it is also the portrait that remains in my memory from the whole room and very present from now on.

Whoever asks for the value of the room and receives the answer "Priceless" knows at the latest now what he has in front of him.

In the course of time, I realize more and more that this significance can also mean fragrances for me. It is the moments when you are one with them, absorb their notes and enjoy the hours. Those who are not (yet) caught up in the scent fever and passion for perfumes may dismiss this value as exaggerated. But to whom this world opens up and who lets himself drift in it, for him it is an enrichment in life.

Even if I have never visited the Amber Room in truth, with "Knot Eau Absolue" I can still travel there in spirit at any time and experience my little story over and over again.

It's the magic of a room combined with the magic of a fragrance.

And one of my personal Magic Moments in my small, healing (fragrance) world.

The fir trees in the Wunderwald stand so close together that they almost seem like a huge curtain of heavy velvet that continues through the whole view and melts away into the endless in the distance. The passing wind is barely able to move the huge conifers with their mighty roots and trunks like wooden pedestals. Only at the top of the treetops can it successfully leave a dense rustle as it slips through, which always fades away gently towards the sky. The already fallen leaves of other trees, several agitated mosses and broken branches by roaming animals, line the ground of the fir trees like a lavishly embroidered golden brown border.
Here, against this backdrop like that of a time-honoured theatre, it is to take place, the wedding.

Truly "Epic the Green" had to fight for the blessing not only of both parents but also of the relatives for the wedding with his beautiful "Cousin Lyric", also from the noble house of Amouage. The custom in the country requires unrestricted agreement of all family members. After all, the union should last a lifetime. Epic really had to draw on his strength for many a consent. For Uncle Kümmel always had it in the cross and, grumpy as he became, did not like to talk about happy things when Epic visited him. Aunt Rosa Pfeffer, on the other hand, couldn't rub the news under the noses of everyone in town fast enough. She lured her victims into the house with magically scented, homemade jasmine tea and cinnamon, and she skillfully pushed them through the hallway into the beautiful parlor and slammed the door behind her. Then she showered her "guests" with torrents of words, while they turned to the windows with the plant boxes filled with rose geraniums, seeking help. It was quite possible that the neighbours Ambra or Gujak or the old maid Iris peeked through the windows to see whether Aunt Rosa had already served the tea. They could then tell them that they were to be released from their teatime. Rosa had not only helpless victims but also grateful when it came to free tea and gossip. When she was in a particularly good mood, she would serve homemade patchouli cookies with vanilla froth. These, on the other hand, were not given for free. You had to leave some incense nuggets for her, which she then let disappear with a sharp grin into her apron pocket and patted briefly from the outside.

The big day
Epic has chosen for its heavy velvet robe in the same green of the fir trees. As he waits in front of them for his lyric, he almost disappears in them. Only through his golden hair or when he moves, he can be made out in the scenery. This is also a challenge for the wedding guests present, who have taken their seats on rows of lavishly decorated wooden benches standing on butter-soft moss and keep him company while waiting.
The fanfares sound, followed by soft music and immediately the eyes turn towards the clearing. A few fairy tale children, adorned with fragrant flowers, happily jump up and down and throw rose petals into the air. While they slowly glide to the ground, the outlines of the proud father with the beautiful bride on his arm behind him can already be made out. Lyric is also wearing velvet. Heavy he moves to her gentle steps over the soft moss. The deep red colour of the robe shimmers slightly. The ebony-coloured hair is pinned up and is still a little covered by the light of the setting sun, which sends a few rays of sunlight through the way out of the clearing. It looks as if an elf has rained a handful of gold dust on the bridal head.
Overjoyed and radiant, Epic receives his Lyric from her father's hands into his outstretched arms.

A wedding like this has not been seen in the Wunderwald for a long time. Fairytale figures in noble robes, the finest food and drink, dancers and fools and wonderful music
Finally, the wedding waltz makes it abundantly clear why Epic and Lyric had to find and love each other. Their nobly spicy body scents, with the hearts of exquisite roses and jasmine and the souls of woods, patchouli and musk unite in the dance and wrap the forest in a hypnotic scent dream of green and deep red, with the density of a heavy velvet fabric and the gift to enchant everything, far beyond their entourages. Everyone perceives them, even if they are not in the immediate vicinity. When dancing and making love, the notes intensify even more. The two bodies still smell when other scents have long faded.
When Epic happily falls asleep next to Lyric, he has long since absorbed some of her most intimate molecules with her kisses. He is sure that they are each other's inhalation and exhalation. They have too much in common. A state as if heaven had united them personally.

Short version:
Epic: Initially cool opulence that reminds me a bit of Thalia Sodi's Absolute Amethyst, but here with spicy, peppery notes of caraway, cinnamon dust and rose. Constantly warming with jasmine and wood, softened by ambergris and musk. A blissful finish with patch and incense with a noble unsweet vanilla note. Absolutely (over-)sensual!

Lyric: Just as spicy and strong upbeat as Epic but without the coolness, but more towards the ripe, deep red rose, which is beautifully supported by ylang. Then follows a very similar, warmer and warmer progression with a finish that is almost in tune with Epic. Find the just as (over-)sensual, but also a bit sexier

Lypic, so a pun from their names might call them. For me, these two stand for absolute harmony of scent and a perfect coordination of all the notes used in each case.

Perfumery at it's Best...

I'm off and running...

What does the secret of a certain Ariel look like?
If it were those from the depths of the sea, would it be a pearl or a sunken treasure that she hides in a cave somewhere?
But when I let the scent take effect on me, I don't see a mermaid in my mind's eye and certainly not the youthful face of this Arielle "Under the Sea".
It is more a self-confident and subtly sexy woman named Arielle, with a correspondingly upright posture and purposeful gait. She knows about her effect and does what is necessary to get what she wants. The thought creeps into my mind that she has long black hair, tamed to a pinned up hairstyle and with single strands hanging down the sides of her face, which end in a big curl at their ends and go along with the wearer's gait while teetering. The woman is a striking beauty and has oriental features, the complexion correspondingly darker. The eyes are bordered with black and the eye shadow is blended to a dark, mystical touch, which accentuates the brown eye colour even more. The lips are painted in strong red and shine slightly. The power woman wears a high-necked blouse in a warm golden tone, around her neck a black satin bow is wrapped, narrow and slightly shimmering, as if she wanted to additionally help the buttons on the blouse and the collar to hide the slim neck. Under one arm sits a briefcase, held by a delicate hand with gold jewellery and red lacquered nails, the other hand rests casually in the trouser pocket. The black, modern cut pleat-front trousers are followed by delicate, high-heeled sling pumps with a stitch at the bout. The woman wears no coat, no cape, no scarf. She is wearing Mauboussin "Le Secret d'Arielle". The scent follows her wherever she goes, enveloping her like an aura and yet it is more than that.

The pepper, which is the first to leave the bottle, is striking, closely followed by a dense bouquet of white flowers, from which I think I can smell that the tuberose of the iris is easily outdone. The opening is very powerful and penetrates every pore if you get too close, leaving your nose feeling nothing else. Here I have to reach for a handkerchief, because this is exactly what seems to threaten me. I would not be able to enjoy the further course of the song any more. So I release the scent droplets sticking to the nose hairs into the handkerchief and get back to the status before the little mishap.
Keep the Distance. And Retest.
The start is the same as before, only there is enough space between us and the pleasure can take its course. A very beautiful and noble amber note is added without the often associated slightly adverse "aftertaste". It seems immaculate and pure and crowns the end of this special fragrance with musk of equal value. I perceive a hint of "Fath de Fath" in it, but "Secret d'Arielle" is more mature against it, as the fruit sweetness of apricot and pear is missing. The basic vibes, however, with the harmony of tuberose, amber, musk and rose, I think they share very well. Nevertheless, it is not a fragrance that rose allergy sufferers would have to be afraid of as far as perfume is concerned. The rose is played into the background by the white blossoms and is additionally subdued with amber and musk. A fragrance that gives off warmth and gives warmth and in my opinion is therefore more at home in spring, autumn and winter than in summer.

Meanwhile, the lady from before has arrived at home in her small but tasteful single flat. The dresses have been taken off in a mannerly and careful way and the shoes are already in cleaned condition in the shoe cupboard. The beauty herself is in the bathroom and lets water into the tub. It reveals itself more and more, which this scent of Mauboussin also combines. Elegance and seduction in one. The black lace underwear is almost tenderly laid aside, the stockings are rolled down the legs and gently removed at the toes. The hair is freed from its needles and gently shaken.
Beneath the classic, high-necked and distanced façade of eben, a blazing heart beats. Like an eternally frozen lake protecting a volcano hidden deep below. Whoever conquers this Ariel will not come home to her. She seduces away, does not give up her little empire. Unapproachable and yet attractive and enticing, seldom accessible and only revealing herself to those who prove themselves worthy of her.

So this could be it...
... "Le Secret d' Arielle" ...

My impression is the same as it was two years ago. No black. No dark either. Medium? Not even close. What I see is a white sheet of paper with white ink written on it.

At first glance there is nothing to see. Questioning glances when you pass the blank and immaculate sheet of paper with the request to read it. A song and a film come to my mind, which in their titles reflect what people with imagination could see on this seemingly empty page.
"White Horses in the Snow" and "White Bird in a Blizzard"
But on this piece of pure white paper there are no horses in the snow. No bird in the blizzard. There is another story.
To do this, you hold the page against the light and it reveals itself to the person who does this instinctively, because he immediately assumes that you are not simply putting a seemingly empty page in his hands to read. For him there must be more behind it. And there does...
I imagine myself having the same idea. But I go one step further, because I am the fantasy man and I see more and expect even more.
So I spray the snow white side with Encre Noire, let it absorb the scent molecules and go to the window in the meantime. Where a ray of sunlight passes through the window pane, I hold it against the light. As if by a ghostly hand, individual outlines and finally entire shapes can be seen. Only slightly lifted from the white, as if I was looking at a white silhouette in the sun through frosted glass.
The story on the sheet may tell of love and longing, longing for faraway places and homesickness, to embrace and let go. A story without corners, edges and thorns. Simply of feelings and impressions. Everybody who holds the sheet in his hands will get to read a different story.

In mine, the white fairy Bergamota dances, flapping her wings over white meadows, a wreath of bleached freesias around her curly white head. The little fairy's own scent, which gives her her name, is strong and immediately covers the whole leaf with freesias several centimetres thick. A slightly citrusy, fresh note of bergamot is able to assert itself now and then, yet the duo stays close together and dictates the story from beginning to end. A few flaps of the wings over the page and the fairy reaches a dense rose head into which she lets herself fall with a giggle. Immediately they catch the petals and wrap the little body in their beguiling scent. Bergamot, freesias and the rose are in themselves a very powerful combination, which can be too tiring for some noses. Therefore caution is advised when dosing. These three components make up the main fragrance for me. Almost innocent and pure, but still strong, densely interwoven and yet soft. On the edge I notice a minimal wood note, some vetiver and musk. But these play only small roles on the sheet of paper, as in my perception. I perceive Encre Noire as a clean, elegant and very feminine fragrance. Closer to classic than youthful features, or at least somewhere in the middle, but with a tendency towards the classic side. A fragrance after the bath, for going out, for a cultivated get-together or simply in everyday life, when you want to treat yourself to something special. Granted, there are similar fragrances and I deliberately say only "similar" and not "same". Because Encre Noire has a little twist in it, which gives it a recognition value after all. I could imagine that this is due to the vetiver. Without this slightly bitter-tangy-green note, the fragrance would be one of many rose waters and underneath it would be hard to distinguish. You have to like roses to succumb to the dance of the fragrance fairy on paper. It's a successful balance between rose and the pair of bergamot and freesia. All of them are very close to what I can bear, I must say, and there are days when I can't let the fairy dance.
But when I'm "in the Mood", the story on the blossom-white sheet of paper is just beautiful and fairytale.

Written with Encre Blanche...

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