Schrippe

It smells like a three-story brothel here... how often have I heard this expression and secretly wondered what it would smell like there.
Life has many surprises, and so I found myself in my early twenties in the apartment of a perfectly normal neighborhood as part of my training.
When I rang the bell, an exceptionally pretty woman opened the door, her natural red hair tied back in a ponytail, and she showed me her beautifully white teeth with a smile. I could tell she had just gargled with Odol.
She led me through the apartment, where at that time several women were present; from blonde to brunette, from slim to generously proportioned.
All very nice, down-to-earth, and extremely communicative. I learned that most men preferred the slightly rounder ladies and that those who appeared more extraordinary earned less money than Ottilie Normalo.
That was a contradiction for me back then.
During a tour of the apartment, I found out that all of them, except for one who was responsible for hygiene and cleanliness, were working here; nowadays, they would probably be called sex workers.
Passing a very functionally furnished kitchen, two rooms that left room for imagination regarding sexual preferences. A bathroom with two shower stalls and a bathtub. That was something that impressed me greatly; at that time, I only had a shower and a toilet.
On the wall stood an Ikea shelf, 4x4 compartments, with Washi tape stuck on the top edge of the individual compartments with names like Karolin, Mandy, Jenny, Lena, Cortney... so nothing like Chantal, Angelique, Vanessa, Gloria, or similar names that might suggest a certain television show.
In each compartment of this shelf stood bottles that roughly corresponded to the then-current bestsellers of well-known perfumeries.
Juliane, probably the oldest, was the only one of the ladies wearing a fragrance I recognized, Private Collection. Dreamily beautiful on her, not vulgar, but noble and elegant.
During my tour of the rooms and the lively conversations with the ladies, other scents wafted into my nose.
The scent of freshly painted fingernails floated through the rooms.
Freshly made beds, a leather pouf, various utensils that were discreet but still visible to curious searching eyes. The sensationally clean toilet, the folded paper towels in the dispenser on the wall, and the XXL pack of condoms created a true olfactory explosion. Along with the scent of freshly brewed coffee sitting on the warming plate of the coffee machine and the obligatory cigarette smoke.
The phone rang, and Karolin, wearing health slippers, chirped into the receiver that she was expecting him in half an hour. Quickly tossing the slippers into the corner behind the curtain, no leopard print, and slipping into high heels. Jogging pants off, stretch skirt on, paired with a tight top. Three sprays of Sun by Jil Sander, and I felt a bit uneasy.
A CD with Boléro by Maurice Ravel was put into the player, and I was instructed to wait in the kitchen with the other women, which I did.
During my countless visits there, I learned a lot from the ladies; what matters and that nothing is as it seems. I mostly revised my prejudices regarding this profession, while some were confirmed.

Some ladies have since taken on completely different jobs, have children, and/or are now in higher positions, and nothing suggests that in their youth, for whatever reasons, they earned their money through customer work.
This fragrance promises something it cannot deliver at all.
Anyone expecting something obscene, wicked, or even a sexual stimulant here is completely mistaken and might be disappointed. The only provocative thing is the name. If that's enough for someone, they will be satisfied. Just please don't spray it on. What comes at you reminds me more of the slightly digested food porridge after a night of partying.
Why this perfume has been called "Nuttendiesel" remains a mystery to me. In my work, I have encountered many women in sex work, and none have ever smelled like this.
Perhaps it is meant to evoke associations.
In my opinion, this fragrance was unnecessary.
Klaus, thank you for this olfactory experience.
I will not give a rating, as the perfumer surely had something in mind during the creation that I cannot grasp.

Many people are searching for that one, their own fragrance, that reflects all their expectations of life.
Does such a fragrance even exist?
How is it designed and is it the same for everyone?
This fragrance may exist, but it rarely crystallizes into something that can sneak into the soul of its wearer.
If we assume that a little human, when catapulted onto this earth, has been able to enjoy a carefree existence until then and under normal circumstances, perhaps becoming aware of their personality in gummy bear size. Then they are thrown out of their paradise in their mother's lap; they have needs like hunger, thirst, warmth, protection, and security that must now be fulfilled by involved parties.
For various reasons, many of which we may not even be aware of, most people fail to satisfy these needs one hundred percent. This leads some to say it exercises frustration tolerance, while it constantly pressures others to want to do everything right.
Nevertheless, there remains this vacuum, sometimes lifelong, which outsiders do not notice because they are distracted by various stimuli.
For some people, it never shows, while for others, it only becomes apparent in adulthood that they have a deficit; one that reveals a deep emptiness inside that they cannot quite grasp.
Yuki is not a spiritual fragrance, but it fills in gaps on the emotional hard drive like a smooth gel, mending connections that have been severed due to carelessness or trauma.
Lavender is often used for calming - even for larger and/or older people - and can be an opponent of anxiety when it is strongly herbal and hits hard on the nose.
So wonderfully composed and embedded as it is here, in once thawed and ice-crusted powdered snow, reflected back by the sun, it is rather rare to find.
The powdery note mentioned several times here is more reminiscent of wig powder used in theaters or court buildings in England to care for second hair.
Along with these harmoniously soft bath foam bubbles with a subtly soapy note, which only make one shiver pleasantly.

Yuki is much more than the sum of its parts.
Warm, soft, uplifting, comforting, and everything that touches you deep inside. All while being enchantingly gentle and quiet.
Puristic fits. Just like the glossy black box in which the perfume is sold. Laid in colorful fabric adorned with typical Japanese ornaments and traditionally tied. A true feast for the eyes.

Never touch a butterfly on its wings, it affects its quality of life, was always the admonition from my grandfather, delivered with a raised index finger.
The wing dust, as I clumsily call it, consists of many tiny scales and allows the fluttering creature to fly steadily without great energy expenditure. When the wing is dusted off by contact with our skin's natural oils, it affects the butterfly, but it does not necessarily lead to death, as is often mentioned.
So one scale follows another, almost like shimmering fish scales, forming the complete color spectrum of these flyers of summer. In the swallowtails, the rich yellow contrasts with the black, intensely red and green iridescent like the burnet moth. Also, the brown bear, clearly accentuated with strong colors. And then the beautiful sky blue of the common blue butterfly.
This is how this fragrance is. My thesis: the microparticles that detach during the wingbeat settle on the nasal mucosa of the wearer and mark it with high recognizability. Impossible to ever forget this scent.
A shifting masterpiece of colors, in which so many individual components create a perfect whole. Flickering aldehydes open the dance of the fluttering butterflies, who love to rest in the sun on the pink flower.
At first spray, very inconspicuous, but upon closer perception of the scent, a fantastic world of pleasant aromas unfolds, which, taken individually, are completely unspectacular, yet together form a potpourri that I have not often smelled before.
Warm, soft, subtle spice with a temporary sweetness. Occasionally, there is the waft of a lukewarm breeze that lifts the butterfly up only to cool itself shortly thereafter in the fresh water.
Anyone expecting a green scent, as the bottle might suggest, will be disappointed.
Leather? For a brief moment, fine gray suede makes an appearance, only to linger longer on other occasions. Either this depends on the day or the temperatures. Who knows?
Interesting is this cocoa note, which remains (very) subtle in the background, as if someone with a cup of hot chocolate briefly stopped by and a small veil of aroma wafts in our direction. Slightly nutty nuances, along with powdered cream, soft and creamy.

The name of the perfume is very well chosen for this constantly shifting scent. It shimmers differently each time, and the more often I can perceive it on women, the more beautiful I find it.

The price is not insignificant, as noted elsewhere, the word limited triggers us. This fragrance meets the expectations we - unfortunately in vain - had for the namesake of Puredistance.
With the green butterfly, we are now in the comfortable position to spray the radiant light, warmth, and sparkling colors of summer during the dark months.

I would buy it if I could find it anywhere.
Unfortunately, that's not the case and I have to make do with my sample from the sharing.
Recently, I've often thought about how much I would be willing to spend if a fragrance is as beautiful as this one.
I won't list all the components mentioned in the pyramid from top to base.
I can't perceive them distinctly enough from one another anyway, and arranging words around the pyramid would just be a chore. I find this unnecessary.
What particularly impressed me while wearing the perfume was the fruity iris, which is juicy and in no way dry or dusty.
The peach note is warmly ambried, excellent! I smell a patchouli shimmer, clear and mild, no mustiness, no crypt.
It is art to assemble parts into a grand whole that, when considered alone, are not particularly special.
This fragrance is complete in itself; any additional embellishment would be too much.
Moreover, the longevity of eight to twelve hours is remarkable. I can still perceive this lovely scent on my scarf days after spraying it.
I like this Roja so much that I have to throw my reservations overboard.
I'm not stingy, but the thought that with just one press of the spray button, six to eight euros irretrievably evaporate into the atmosphere gives me a headache.
I will jump over my shadow and take the coins from my piggy bank, which is a Holstein cow for me, to wear this fragrance on special occasions.
This could be a visit to the lending library or on an expected heavy day at work, where the fragrance carries.
It does so even during Puccini's and Verdi's operas.
When worn, compliments come quickly. This is usually followed by the obligatory question about which fragrance it is and, above all, how much it costs.
And then, at the latest, I will be awkwardly embarrassed again.
Especially when I know the personal circumstances of the person asking and realize that they have to stretch every cent.
It's a bit decadent, and maybe I'll consider a different strategy and announce that I've forgotten the name.

Oh, my Rome, how beautifully you burn!

Like many other users, I always read about Musk OIL upon its release; whether this was a thought process that matched my expectations, I can no longer say for sure in hindsight.
Ultimately, I approached the fragrance completely unbiased.
Anyone who associates this perfume with cream, powder, sweetness, cotton clouds, citrus, or even cuddle moments will be disappointed with the first spray.

It comes across as cool and distant. Ice-cold like a mountain stream.
Just as the bottle images convey. The marketing motto hits the mark.
This scent is completely different.
I still hear some voices criticizing: sounds like a chemistry kit, from the lab, etc. Where else would it come from?
The times when animals suffer for, among other things, human luxury products or other concerns should belong to the past; please don’t tell me that perfumes labeled as natural and marketed as such are generally made entirely from natural ingredients. Exceptions may confirm the rule.
Musc OIL hits you right in the face. Like the gong of an old grandfather clock, dull but penetrating.
A brief association with ship planks pops into my head.
Without warning and without further transformation, it is there. And it stays there.
This perfume, on its own, undergoes no development for me and fulfills exactly what I hoped for from the descriptions on the Caron website.
With this musk, a whole new world of layering opens up for me.
Suddenly, it is present, revealing itself, depending on the base scent, sometimes soft and cuddly or hard and somewhat aggressive. It seems to enter into a well-functioning symbiosis with the base scent and does not radiate parallel to the initially applied fragrance.
Many of my fragrances associated with the feminine, which can sometimes be a bit too agreeable for me, receive a hotshot from it and suddenly become completely transformed-rocky, hard, or even robust; in any case, they noticeably change.
If that is too little for the invested money, one should linger on the bottle.
There’s nothing to say, it is beautiful.
There is one flaw, though: the emblem on the front center is only glued on and was already slightly detached at one corner when it arrived. That should be handled differently at this price.