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Ropanski2020
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Traces of the unscented
Batavia - this was the name given in the 17th century to the headquarters of the Dutch East India Company on the north-west coast of the island of Java, nowadays better known as Jakarta, the capital and (still) seat of government of the Republic of Indonesia.
For a small Indonesian label based in the Yogyakarta region to name a fragrance in this way is somewhat remarkable, even though the name dates back to well before the colonial era.
Batavia Oud originally arose from the idea of publishing a natural hair serum. Eventually, the idea was scrapped and a perfume was created that olfactorily encapsulated the woody DNA of the serum; the still young perfume brand UCCA had its signature. The transformation from a natural care product to a perfume is not only of historical interest: At the breaking points of such a transformation, the limits and scope of a newly founded brand also emerge visibly at the same time - resulting in an impressive testimony to a different kind of perfumer's art, as would soon become apparent.
At first glance, the way in which the perfumer (Jaka Umbaran) seeks to artfully break open an almost archaic (wood) crust in order to allow the fragrance to develop spectrally is astonishing. Let's not kid ourselves: Batavia Oud smells of wood; of lightly infested, freshly cut wood, but also of old, wet, weathered, already dead and/or processed wood. As a kind of monoculture, matured on long-settled wood cuttings, there is little scope for other nuances. Trained noses will at best recognize sprinkles, firmly embedded or anchored in the wood, like fittings, as connecting elements, so to speak, which complement the original grain.
Cinnamon and leather are added, but only as contouring assistants in the interplay of the wood notes and emphasize their maturation process. The sandalwood is highly concentrated and vaporized spicy-warm, reinforced by the Ceylon cinnamon infusion, it is almost nutty to coconutty-gourmand. Everything is both embedded in and characterized by the dryness of the cedar, which develops heavy oil-like nuances with increasing duration, although it remains unclear to what extent the (plantation) oud used here acts as a mediator or contributor. At least the notes complement each other perfectly, merging into one another - that should be enough, but it doesn't say much about the quality of the selected oud varieties, which should be noted for the sake of completeness.
In principle, it is difficult to convey a picture of a brand's DNA to the uninitiated, and even more difficult to encourage them to break out of their comfort zone in order to convince them to give it a try, as there are other (more exciting) paths to take. Jaka Umbaran has a sense for the special and does not try to share the eternal. She is too fond of depicting reduced spheres of the natural with a tendency towards undisguised abruptness in order to let them fade away soothingly. Lingering on well-trodden paths is almost alien to her (excluding the "Cologne du Bois | Ucca").
Batavia Oud is well suited to the naturalness of its original idea, even without the purchased "organic seal of approval". To a certain extent, the sharp-edged finesse of derailed artisan art escapes from the flacon in an extraordinary way, it is rugged to the point of being brash, flanked by synthetic abstinence. All of this contributes to artfully blending an unfamiliar level that is as desolate and untainted as it is reduced and important at the same time.
There is something grounding and calming about it, something touchingly archaic that lies hidden beneath the leather flacon cap. Something that does not want to be loved and yet wants to be understood - it is simply: Batavia.
For a small Indonesian label based in the Yogyakarta region to name a fragrance in this way is somewhat remarkable, even though the name dates back to well before the colonial era.
Batavia Oud originally arose from the idea of publishing a natural hair serum. Eventually, the idea was scrapped and a perfume was created that olfactorily encapsulated the woody DNA of the serum; the still young perfume brand UCCA had its signature. The transformation from a natural care product to a perfume is not only of historical interest: At the breaking points of such a transformation, the limits and scope of a newly founded brand also emerge visibly at the same time - resulting in an impressive testimony to a different kind of perfumer's art, as would soon become apparent.
At first glance, the way in which the perfumer (Jaka Umbaran) seeks to artfully break open an almost archaic (wood) crust in order to allow the fragrance to develop spectrally is astonishing. Let's not kid ourselves: Batavia Oud smells of wood; of lightly infested, freshly cut wood, but also of old, wet, weathered, already dead and/or processed wood. As a kind of monoculture, matured on long-settled wood cuttings, there is little scope for other nuances. Trained noses will at best recognize sprinkles, firmly embedded or anchored in the wood, like fittings, as connecting elements, so to speak, which complement the original grain.
Cinnamon and leather are added, but only as contouring assistants in the interplay of the wood notes and emphasize their maturation process. The sandalwood is highly concentrated and vaporized spicy-warm, reinforced by the Ceylon cinnamon infusion, it is almost nutty to coconutty-gourmand. Everything is both embedded in and characterized by the dryness of the cedar, which develops heavy oil-like nuances with increasing duration, although it remains unclear to what extent the (plantation) oud used here acts as a mediator or contributor. At least the notes complement each other perfectly, merging into one another - that should be enough, but it doesn't say much about the quality of the selected oud varieties, which should be noted for the sake of completeness.
In principle, it is difficult to convey a picture of a brand's DNA to the uninitiated, and even more difficult to encourage them to break out of their comfort zone in order to convince them to give it a try, as there are other (more exciting) paths to take. Jaka Umbaran has a sense for the special and does not try to share the eternal. She is too fond of depicting reduced spheres of the natural with a tendency towards undisguised abruptness in order to let them fade away soothingly. Lingering on well-trodden paths is almost alien to her (excluding the "Cologne du Bois | Ucca").
Batavia Oud is well suited to the naturalness of its original idea, even without the purchased "organic seal of approval". To a certain extent, the sharp-edged finesse of derailed artisan art escapes from the flacon in an extraordinary way, it is rugged to the point of being brash, flanked by synthetic abstinence. All of this contributes to artfully blending an unfamiliar level that is as desolate and untainted as it is reduced and important at the same time.
There is something grounding and calming about it, something touchingly archaic that lies hidden beneath the leather flacon cap. Something that does not want to be loved and yet wants to be understood - it is simply: Batavia.
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Adam's memento mori: Shut up, next!
To a certain extent, studying the world of perfume can degenerate into work and, on top of that, does not always pay off, sometimes even forcing a dispute when existing foundations are shaken by misguided set pieces of a supposed art.
It is impossible to talk about the Areej Le Doré brand and remain silent about the conflict it ignites. The recently published Classic Collection (in a bundle) is nothing less than an attempt at a detailed re-presentation of what has become (supposed) classics in the perfume scene in recent years and at the same time allows a critical look at the brand itself.
In its early days, Areej Le Doré was a very exciting artisan brand, which made it worthwhile for many to spend a little more money, as it promised a unique fragrance experience. A certain amount of hype developed around the brand and the person relatively quickly, not least as a result of the limited release policy, which in many places culminated in a soft-spoken elitism that increasingly glorified the flacons as prestige objects. As a result, the brand has degenerated into a contrasting foil for blinded hype advocates and collector fetishists, who have made the "resell thing" in the perfume segment really socially acceptable - thanks for that! And although almost every sparrow has already whistled the swan song from the rooftops of the republic at least once, the releases are eagerly awaited each time and the scene is followed almost blindly like a cult.
There is a certain tragedy and a no less annoying, but in any case revealing irony in the fact that the way Adam announces his new releases in videos resembles that of a time-honored statesman who mentally recites from his memoirs while the owl of Minerva takes off. In recent years, Adam has increasingly generated himself as a chronicler on his own behalf, setting out to complete the catastasis. The self-referential frugality he displays in the process seems stylized into a painting and somehow thrown out of time due to the constant use of the same camera angle.
As much as the brand stood out from the rest at the time, it should be emphasized at this point how little the (artificially inflated) price says about the actual quality, even though there are quite a few who see "Russian Oud (Extrait de Parfum) | Areej Le Doré" as an independent top dog, a contemporary replica on the subject of the niche. One may therefore be willing to add a "but" to the previous statement, but a great deal of surplus has accumulated in the past; much could already be said about this. And quite a few people emphasize emphatically how much this lean period was preceded by tireless procrastination, the end of which should now come soon.
I'm not saying that Adam would have scraped together the last pitiful crumbs here to make a real profit once again. However, certain signs of wear and tear cannot be denied. And those who are keen to find something new in the old have either run out of ideas or have simply become overwhelmed by the environmental factors under which their own existence is languishing. In the end, the fans' demand seemed appealing enough to finally comply with.
Underpinned by a truckload of cocoa, the new edition seems almost hermetically sealed. This is probably primarily to give the heart note more weight and scope, which is often pushed into the background by the vice of an overly heavy base. However, this does not succeed, not even in a distinctive sense. The cocoa note shatters the classification of a fragrance pyramid, almost reducing it to absurdity. The virtuosity with which Adam switched between the individual levels of the fragrance pyramid in the original is completely absent from the successor. The powdery dryness of the cocoa is overpowering. This may be due to the choice of oud or the balsamic notes, which take a backseat to the old fragrance; possibly even both. At the very least, I am surprised by the far-reaching sillage, which is almost atypical for this brand. At this point, a certain adaptation or reorientation to market requirements may become clear, from which even a Russian Adam can no longer fully absolve itself.
Russian Oud II is by no means a bad fragrance, but it is not a really well-composed one either. In terms of craftsmanship, it comes across as half-baked to unfavorable (coordinated). Even the supposedly great name and the experience of the person responsible behind it, which circles over the latter like a sword of Damocles, do nothing to change this.
For me personally, this is a kind of conciliatory conclusion for a brand that has not managed to develop decisively across the board in recent years. At least not in a direction that really appealed to me. The lighthouse proved too often to be a will-o'-the-wisp, the supposed glow in the night resembled at best that of distant, already burnt-out stars and is merely an echo of days long past. The more important the current release is presented as being, which it is not at its core, the greater the disappointment.
It is impossible to talk about the Areej Le Doré brand and remain silent about the conflict it ignites. The recently published Classic Collection (in a bundle) is nothing less than an attempt at a detailed re-presentation of what has become (supposed) classics in the perfume scene in recent years and at the same time allows a critical look at the brand itself.
In its early days, Areej Le Doré was a very exciting artisan brand, which made it worthwhile for many to spend a little more money, as it promised a unique fragrance experience. A certain amount of hype developed around the brand and the person relatively quickly, not least as a result of the limited release policy, which in many places culminated in a soft-spoken elitism that increasingly glorified the flacons as prestige objects. As a result, the brand has degenerated into a contrasting foil for blinded hype advocates and collector fetishists, who have made the "resell thing" in the perfume segment really socially acceptable - thanks for that! And although almost every sparrow has already whistled the swan song from the rooftops of the republic at least once, the releases are eagerly awaited each time and the scene is followed almost blindly like a cult.
There is a certain tragedy and a no less annoying, but in any case revealing irony in the fact that the way Adam announces his new releases in videos resembles that of a time-honored statesman who mentally recites from his memoirs while the owl of Minerva takes off. In recent years, Adam has increasingly generated himself as a chronicler on his own behalf, setting out to complete the catastasis. The self-referential frugality he displays in the process seems stylized into a painting and somehow thrown out of time due to the constant use of the same camera angle.
As much as the brand stood out from the rest at the time, it should be emphasized at this point how little the (artificially inflated) price says about the actual quality, even though there are quite a few who see "Russian Oud (Extrait de Parfum) | Areej Le Doré" as an independent top dog, a contemporary replica on the subject of the niche. One may therefore be willing to add a "but" to the previous statement, but a great deal of surplus has accumulated in the past; much could already be said about this. And quite a few people emphasize emphatically how much this lean period was preceded by tireless procrastination, the end of which should now come soon.
I'm not saying that Adam would have scraped together the last pitiful crumbs here to make a real profit once again. However, certain signs of wear and tear cannot be denied. And those who are keen to find something new in the old have either run out of ideas or have simply become overwhelmed by the environmental factors under which their own existence is languishing. In the end, the fans' demand seemed appealing enough to finally comply with.
Underpinned by a truckload of cocoa, the new edition seems almost hermetically sealed. This is probably primarily to give the heart note more weight and scope, which is often pushed into the background by the vice of an overly heavy base. However, this does not succeed, not even in a distinctive sense. The cocoa note shatters the classification of a fragrance pyramid, almost reducing it to absurdity. The virtuosity with which Adam switched between the individual levels of the fragrance pyramid in the original is completely absent from the successor. The powdery dryness of the cocoa is overpowering. This may be due to the choice of oud or the balsamic notes, which take a backseat to the old fragrance; possibly even both. At the very least, I am surprised by the far-reaching sillage, which is almost atypical for this brand. At this point, a certain adaptation or reorientation to market requirements may become clear, from which even a Russian Adam can no longer fully absolve itself.
Russian Oud II is by no means a bad fragrance, but it is not a really well-composed one either. In terms of craftsmanship, it comes across as half-baked to unfavorable (coordinated). Even the supposedly great name and the experience of the person responsible behind it, which circles over the latter like a sword of Damocles, do nothing to change this.
For me personally, this is a kind of conciliatory conclusion for a brand that has not managed to develop decisively across the board in recent years. At least not in a direction that really appealed to me. The lighthouse proved too often to be a will-o'-the-wisp, the supposed glow in the night resembled at best that of distant, already burnt-out stars and is merely an echo of days long past. The more important the current release is presented as being, which it is not at its core, the greater the disappointment.
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*Ambra*kadabra - addicted to a fragrance painting
Introductory words:
Perfumes in general can be met with a lot of passion, that is, with the deepest fervor. One can pay homage to the perfumer for his congenial ingenuity or, for example, the brand behind it, for their courage and determination. At the same time, fragrances always represent a hurdle, a task, so to speak, which - like life itself - should only be faced with a great deal of time and passion, but also with all kinds of experience and daring. Especially for the latter, one is rewarded from time to time, which opens the view for the new and lets the own expectation horizon constantly wander.
Fragrances should tell stories - of places, characters and exciting events. At best, experiences from one's own biography are taken up or touched upon in the approach. To sound out intersections, which inspire us to dream, us to contexts that lie buried under the ballast of time, should be a goal. At least it is just such fragrance experiences that often make me interested to listen, where I then simply grab the curiosity, which ultimately decides whether I am inclined to a purchase or not.
Perfumers do well to provide for such experiences and / or stories imaginatively continue to spin, which are already laid out in our biography, by letting their fragrances speak for themselves. A fragrance that manages to pick me up both mentally and physically and beyond that can enter new realms is Baikal Gris by Areej Le Doré (AlD).
Thereby Baikal Gris surprises (me) positively in several respects. First, Russian Adam refers to a motif, Lake Baikal - the largest freshwater lake in the world, located in the mountains of southern Siberia and with an area of nearly 31500km². That piques my interest! On the other hand, it puts a note in the foreground that I hardly knew until now: No eaglewood, no musk, it is the amber that owns the stage. I want to test that!
First impression:
Minimally salty, somewhat ozone-like - freed from seaweed, some wood, swollen and shrouded in haze, drifts on the surface of the water, surrounded by fir forests and rocky crevices. A scent painting that pleases me, picks me up, lets me experience a scent journey - a bull's eye. But what is the course? Quite linear, I would say, how could it be otherwise when a lake serves as leitmotif(s)?! The amber dominates from the first second, does not hold even after several hours loose. Only and only the woods win in the further course of the fragrance in contour.
Second impression:
Approaches of musk recognizable (nut grass?!), yet not at all pungent (animal), bar any form of mustiness or even dryness, rather in the width extremely transparent drawn. In the course of the fragrance quite softening, the base is always perceptible, perhaps not on several meters, rather close to the body, but carrying all the trump cards on the skin - craftsmanship really succeeded.
Result:
Rarely allowed to test such a natural-looking, mineral fragrance. Even after 12-14 hours still clearly perceptible on the skin escapes me the thought of wanting to acquire him, this skillfully implemented, salty base. Another highlight is certainly the sandalwood note, spicy-creamy unfolds this not too demanding in the base and harmonizes perfectly with the balsamic amber. The durability is AlD-gemäß at the highest level, the sillage just right.
I do not know the Atlantic Ambergris, insofar it is not up to me to be able to assess to what extent Russian Adam revived here an already applied / known formula in Baikal Gris, however, I like Baikal Gris extraordinarily. He is in the positive sense unique and counts for me to the best and above all most exciting releases of AlD.
(Thanks and love go out to Antoniacreed for the opportunity to test the Baikal Gris)
Perfumes in general can be met with a lot of passion, that is, with the deepest fervor. One can pay homage to the perfumer for his congenial ingenuity or, for example, the brand behind it, for their courage and determination. At the same time, fragrances always represent a hurdle, a task, so to speak, which - like life itself - should only be faced with a great deal of time and passion, but also with all kinds of experience and daring. Especially for the latter, one is rewarded from time to time, which opens the view for the new and lets the own expectation horizon constantly wander.
Fragrances should tell stories - of places, characters and exciting events. At best, experiences from one's own biography are taken up or touched upon in the approach. To sound out intersections, which inspire us to dream, us to contexts that lie buried under the ballast of time, should be a goal. At least it is just such fragrance experiences that often make me interested to listen, where I then simply grab the curiosity, which ultimately decides whether I am inclined to a purchase or not.
Perfumers do well to provide for such experiences and / or stories imaginatively continue to spin, which are already laid out in our biography, by letting their fragrances speak for themselves. A fragrance that manages to pick me up both mentally and physically and beyond that can enter new realms is Baikal Gris by Areej Le Doré (AlD).
Thereby Baikal Gris surprises (me) positively in several respects. First, Russian Adam refers to a motif, Lake Baikal - the largest freshwater lake in the world, located in the mountains of southern Siberia and with an area of nearly 31500km². That piques my interest! On the other hand, it puts a note in the foreground that I hardly knew until now: No eaglewood, no musk, it is the amber that owns the stage. I want to test that!
First impression:
Minimally salty, somewhat ozone-like - freed from seaweed, some wood, swollen and shrouded in haze, drifts on the surface of the water, surrounded by fir forests and rocky crevices. A scent painting that pleases me, picks me up, lets me experience a scent journey - a bull's eye. But what is the course? Quite linear, I would say, how could it be otherwise when a lake serves as leitmotif(s)?! The amber dominates from the first second, does not hold even after several hours loose. Only and only the woods win in the further course of the fragrance in contour.
Second impression:
Approaches of musk recognizable (nut grass?!), yet not at all pungent (animal), bar any form of mustiness or even dryness, rather in the width extremely transparent drawn. In the course of the fragrance quite softening, the base is always perceptible, perhaps not on several meters, rather close to the body, but carrying all the trump cards on the skin - craftsmanship really succeeded.
Result:
Rarely allowed to test such a natural-looking, mineral fragrance. Even after 12-14 hours still clearly perceptible on the skin escapes me the thought of wanting to acquire him, this skillfully implemented, salty base. Another highlight is certainly the sandalwood note, spicy-creamy unfolds this not too demanding in the base and harmonizes perfectly with the balsamic amber. The durability is AlD-gemäß at the highest level, the sillage just right.
I do not know the Atlantic Ambergris, insofar it is not up to me to be able to assess to what extent Russian Adam revived here an already applied / known formula in Baikal Gris, however, I like Baikal Gris extraordinarily. He is in the positive sense unique and counts for me to the best and above all most exciting releases of AlD.
(Thanks and love go out to Antoniacreed for the opportunity to test the Baikal Gris)
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So hard not to resist you
Ah Roja, you and your high-priced fragrances. In hawking you are a king, only to advertise the independence of your fragrances, you do not always succeed (excellent). Yes, it's easy to claim, if not easy to analyze, what makes your fragrances stand out from others in terms of quality. You come across as too embarrassed and turgid, which is not exactly to the advantage of your commercial intentions. Anyway, a lot of things seem...well...somehow strange, if one disregards your partly exaggerated self-dramatization, which you try to fade out* completely. Your well-heeled clientele may not care, of course, and should if in doubt. A rogue, who thinks evil thereby.
Sophistication is certainly as little to deny you as a shrewd eye for value - that has not remained hidden even your biggest critics. And yes, with Amber you have really managed a big hit, far from your mostly overpriced average goods. So you present us here a wonderfully balanced gourmand, only the name might cause irritation. But more about that in another place.
Amber opens first with a clearly in the foreground cocoa note which, so much is to be anticipated, finely resolved can hardly be. At least nothing qualitatively comparable has been presented to me so far. A characteristic aroma consisting of malty, slightly caramel nuances, refined with a not too sweet vanilla: Great!
The base is indeed quite sweet, but initially wins through the lavender and in the later course of the fragrance thanks to the spicy resins, but especially by the increasingly strong patchouli, a rather darker character, which is quite beneficial to the sillage and probably also the last doubters upset, who had already feared at the beginning of a too heavy base. No, here detonates nothing in the candy store of your confidence!
Enveloped by a light sandalwood note unfolds after 4-5 hours, the labdanum along with the benzoin, which gives the gourmand orientation an oriental impact. For some, this phase could certainly have turned out a tad more voluminous to do justice to the name that Roja has prefixed his Extrait.
In the drydown, the resins then gain the upper hand. The benzoin gives the march route and knows how to please: very creamy, warm and delicate - cuddly like a second skin. A dream.
As Heritage Collection (again) available Amber is definitely worth a look and for lovers of cocoa-like fragrance compositions anyway an absolute buy recommendation. I love him!!!
The sillage turns out especially in the (no longer available) extrait version excellent. Since 1-2 sprays are enough, anything beyond that: without guarantee. Durability? Also extraordinary: He fades - depending on humidity and heat - only after 10-14 hrs on my skin.
A masterpiece of Mr. Roja Dove
Sophistication is certainly as little to deny you as a shrewd eye for value - that has not remained hidden even your biggest critics. And yes, with Amber you have really managed a big hit, far from your mostly overpriced average goods. So you present us here a wonderfully balanced gourmand, only the name might cause irritation. But more about that in another place.
Amber opens first with a clearly in the foreground cocoa note which, so much is to be anticipated, finely resolved can hardly be. At least nothing qualitatively comparable has been presented to me so far. A characteristic aroma consisting of malty, slightly caramel nuances, refined with a not too sweet vanilla: Great!
The base is indeed quite sweet, but initially wins through the lavender and in the later course of the fragrance thanks to the spicy resins, but especially by the increasingly strong patchouli, a rather darker character, which is quite beneficial to the sillage and probably also the last doubters upset, who had already feared at the beginning of a too heavy base. No, here detonates nothing in the candy store of your confidence!
Enveloped by a light sandalwood note unfolds after 4-5 hours, the labdanum along with the benzoin, which gives the gourmand orientation an oriental impact. For some, this phase could certainly have turned out a tad more voluminous to do justice to the name that Roja has prefixed his Extrait.
In the drydown, the resins then gain the upper hand. The benzoin gives the march route and knows how to please: very creamy, warm and delicate - cuddly like a second skin. A dream.
As Heritage Collection (again) available Amber is definitely worth a look and for lovers of cocoa-like fragrance compositions anyway an absolute buy recommendation. I love him!!!
The sillage turns out especially in the (no longer available) extrait version excellent. Since 1-2 sprays are enough, anything beyond that: without guarantee. Durability? Also extraordinary: He fades - depending on humidity and heat - only after 10-14 hrs on my skin.
A masterpiece of Mr. Roja Dove
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A lateral thinker goes wild
Deep, dark and yet so luminously sublime, the spark of hope always in sight: Filippo Sorcinelli's signature is unmistakable - one loves it, the other...you know.
Phase 1:
The attack resembles a more balsamic version of Ford's "Oud Minérale": sharp mineral, tart and slightly aquatic in orientation, very interesting. Does not reach the spiciness of the "Squid" from the Zoologist series, because always only the sea spray in front of eyes but committed to the land mass. Loses after a few minutes but visibly in intensity - the phase lasts only briefly.
Phase 2:
Things are getting greener! No representative of the impassable thicket, rather one of the herbaceous guild, carrying the sickle always close to the body. Thanks to the wooden chords in the middle part then but noticeably drier, no comparison to the prelude - neither full-blooded Adequate nor evergreen forest rat. Overall, a rather foolhardy balancing act, which is undertaken here!
Phase 3:
In the drydown then unfolds a soapy melange of balsamic notes, which lasts for several hours, but only towards the end real (smoky) depth can be glimpsed. The "Unda Maris 8" does not reach the usual degrees of combustion of a "Quando rapita in estasi", but also seems by far more portable than the aforementioned, big brother.
Conclusion:
Craftsmanship undoubtedly interesting implemented, I would have wished me above all in the base note but more texture. Connoisseurs of the house know what they are getting into, all others are possibly slightly overwhelmed whether the complexity of what is offered. Alternating emotions are therefore pre-programmed, joy and disappointment are very close together here. As a result: a very complex fragrance.
Durability and sillage are more than decent: sticks depending on the day form up to 9-12 hours on the skin, makes all kinds of development (s) through. Sillage rather close to the body, but always perceptible, even after several hours.
I like the anyway, somehow.
Phase 1:
The attack resembles a more balsamic version of Ford's "Oud Minérale": sharp mineral, tart and slightly aquatic in orientation, very interesting. Does not reach the spiciness of the "Squid" from the Zoologist series, because always only the sea spray in front of eyes but committed to the land mass. Loses after a few minutes but visibly in intensity - the phase lasts only briefly.
Phase 2:
Things are getting greener! No representative of the impassable thicket, rather one of the herbaceous guild, carrying the sickle always close to the body. Thanks to the wooden chords in the middle part then but noticeably drier, no comparison to the prelude - neither full-blooded Adequate nor evergreen forest rat. Overall, a rather foolhardy balancing act, which is undertaken here!
Phase 3:
In the drydown then unfolds a soapy melange of balsamic notes, which lasts for several hours, but only towards the end real (smoky) depth can be glimpsed. The "Unda Maris 8" does not reach the usual degrees of combustion of a "Quando rapita in estasi", but also seems by far more portable than the aforementioned, big brother.
Conclusion:
Craftsmanship undoubtedly interesting implemented, I would have wished me above all in the base note but more texture. Connoisseurs of the house know what they are getting into, all others are possibly slightly overwhelmed whether the complexity of what is offered. Alternating emotions are therefore pre-programmed, joy and disappointment are very close together here. As a result: a very complex fragrance.
Durability and sillage are more than decent: sticks depending on the day form up to 9-12 hours on the skin, makes all kinds of development (s) through. Sillage rather close to the body, but always perceptible, even after several hours.
I like the anyway, somehow.
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