Rutil

Minus six degrees and a view of the snow-covered landscape, a delicate mist rising, magic in the barren distance. How much could you write if your fingers weren't frozen?
It may be brittle, the shadow of wonder, and yet it has a conciliatory quality about it.
The first breath - a cool winter breeze. A glance upwards into the deep blue sky.
Spicy, it continues on its way, wanting to go a little further, wanting to weave and unfold a little more delicately. Woody and delicately sweet. All the components merge very quietly and slowly, so it is not really surprising that this very silence is so enchanting.

An ethereal, balsamic impression awaits you once you have left the birch trees behind. The woods are chopped, no flowers far and wide. Camphor-like and powerful, the myrtle stings the nose. A little agony, a little medicinal impression. The trail continues herbaceous and spicy.
Sacred but bright incense greets you as you enter the portal. It creeps across the floor in hazy wafts. Everything that lies ahead will dissolve into smoke. Just don't rush now. A fresh, cool church floor like this also has its charms.
Inevitably, a thought comes to mind. A picture appears: Hieronymus Bosch's "The Garden of Earthly Delights". I turn my gaze to the right-hand side of the triptych. A cold shiver runs down my spine. Is that what you expect? I get heartburn. Is this already hellfire? Or is it the mare I've just eaten at the wrong time? No answers. Still incense everywhere and that darn pungent myrtle ...

After a little pause, the base emerges. It is tentative and still shrouded in cool smoke, but the composition is now somewhat denser and more aromatic with a slight bitterness. A leathery note wafts past at a certain distance and the fragrance immediately recedes.
In fact, the entire arrangement is somehow strangely relaxing, but without any sizzling corners or fiery edges.

I was actually expecting sea buckthorn. A lot of sea buckthorn. A real sea buckthorn beast, a monster that stuns me with its tart, fruity notes and clouds my senses. But that's not what happened.
Maybe it's a stick of incense glowing in the distance? Early 2000s, Nag Champa Agarbatti, somehow homely. Memories of old times.
A feeling.
Not for every day.
Not for every evening.
A small experience that shows nuances of change - always delicate and different and yet the same. Weather conditions, mood - all this influences. Gives the wearer a warm envelope of soft orange fruit sweetness and dried wood.
Familiar and unique.
Love and all.

Fog lies on the fields. The cranes call at dawn. Spring is waiting in the far distance. Outside it is still cool, wet and uncomfortable and so there are these days. Days that you want to spend as unscented as possible because of your mood. No disturbing frequencies that you can and want to endure. Peace in the mind and on the skin are desirable and despite everything, you want to give melancholy space. So three splashes of the French miracle water are the remedy of choice.
A cozy warmth spreads, small sparkling molecules of bitter orange swirl around. Soft and comforting, the other components surround you in spicy bliss. The finish may not be impressive, but it doesn't have to be. A mineral, balsamic and woody veil remains on the skin until the sun goes down. Unaffected and elegant. A success!

The city that never sleeps, the Big Apple, Gotham City, that's the name given to the city that now receives an olfactory homage with Anticonformiste. It is supposed to be shimmering, energetic, contain a feeling of infinite possibilities, ... but I am disillusioned, because I actually quite like Morillas' creations, at least the ones that have come under my nose so far. It may be because of my aversion to big cities, lots of people, more steel than nature or because I've never been to New York, but I don't agree with Anticonformiste.
The opening immediately reveals its aquatic and very masculine side. The calone fragrance used in the heart note is immediately present. The violet leaf fights its way through with difficulty and adds a little spice, but I only hear the peppermint as a faint whiff. This remains almost unchanged over the course of the fragrance. I can't smell the gardenia and the pepper only shines here with a delicate pinch. In the base, patchouli seems a little sweet and less earthy due to the tonka bean, but the calone provides such a supportive framework that the lingering effect really tugs at my olfactory nerves. The same goes for the sillage, because despite two sprays, I feel like I can smell it everywhere.
So it may seem fitting that this fragrance reminds me of the slick windows of skyscrapers. A cosmopolitan pool landscape in a bottle. Opportunistic, synthetic and by no means unisex.