Sharka
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Sharka
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Is there a cat DNA in perfume art?
Today I brought out my "Lune Féline" sample to sweeten my grey working day with a lot of labour-intensive files on the PC. As a cat fan I had to have them, just like I originally took a closer look at "The Bewitching Yasmine" from Penhaligon's because of the enchanting cat flacon, only to discover that I really like the scent too.
I also like "Lune Féline" right away. But already when sniffing the top note, I start to think about it. You know it. It smells a bit like.. Exactly, there are strong echoes of the beguiling Yasmine from the traditional British house. A glance at the ingredients confirms what my nose already told me: Both fragrances contain cardamom in the top note, but where "Yasmine" eagerly sharpened its claws through the coffee, "Lune Féline" remains cuddly and sweet thanks to cinnamon. The pink pepper I can only guess at when you sniff it close to your body.
As the story progresses, it becomes clear that we are dealing with two very different cat characters: "Lune Féline" develops into a somewhat sedate, but beautiful Persian cat with a well-balanced heart note, in which Styrax and fine woods in particular convey a calm down-to-earth quality. "The Bewitching Yasmine" on the other hand is a riot-brushed oriental girl, who prefers to tear around the place and sometimes hits her claws into one or the other nose. With Jasmine, women and men can be even or not!
In the base, both cat animals come to rest: Vanilla provides this homely feeling, and while in "Lune Féline" even the animal musk remains discreet, "Yasmine" has to make a statement before she goes to sleep, which cats - sorry! - sometimes do by urine marking. Yes, oud is also a matter of taste, and as is well known, taste is not a matter of dispute.
I like both scents. But I'm still puzzling over whether there is feline DNA in perfumery...
I also like "Lune Féline" right away. But already when sniffing the top note, I start to think about it. You know it. It smells a bit like.. Exactly, there are strong echoes of the beguiling Yasmine from the traditional British house. A glance at the ingredients confirms what my nose already told me: Both fragrances contain cardamom in the top note, but where "Yasmine" eagerly sharpened its claws through the coffee, "Lune Féline" remains cuddly and sweet thanks to cinnamon. The pink pepper I can only guess at when you sniff it close to your body.
As the story progresses, it becomes clear that we are dealing with two very different cat characters: "Lune Féline" develops into a somewhat sedate, but beautiful Persian cat with a well-balanced heart note, in which Styrax and fine woods in particular convey a calm down-to-earth quality. "The Bewitching Yasmine" on the other hand is a riot-brushed oriental girl, who prefers to tear around the place and sometimes hits her claws into one or the other nose. With Jasmine, women and men can be even or not!
In the base, both cat animals come to rest: Vanilla provides this homely feeling, and while in "Lune Féline" even the animal musk remains discreet, "Yasmine" has to make a statement before she goes to sleep, which cats - sorry! - sometimes do by urine marking. Yes, oud is also a matter of taste, and as is well known, taste is not a matter of dispute.
I like both scents. But I'm still puzzling over whether there is feline DNA in perfumery...
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The stone that is not and the perfume that is more than a perfume
I waited a long time with a comment, which my absolute favourite fragrance deserves. "Encens Divin" has been with me since autumn 2018 - "Guilt" is the nice salesman of a duty free shop at London Heathrow airport, who was able to classify my fragrance preferences well and made me so happy with a spray of the golden elixir that I couldn't let my arm bend during the almost one and a half hour flight to Hamburg. The distinguished Brit next to me deliberately ignored me until his cell phone disappeared under the seat during a turbulence. I helped him find it by using mine as a flashlight. Head down, our eyes met and he was probably a wave of "Encens Divin". Promptly he said, "Oh, it DOES smell good!" Also the mobile phone found itself a row behind us again.
But now to the fragrance: The peppery top note is astonishingly soft, almost with hints of honey and embedded in the already ascending incense, which also carries, envelops, connects and refines all the other notes in the further course.
If "Encens Divin" were a gemstone, it would be an amber - a magnificent, large, highly polished amber with facets ranging from dark orange-brown to brilliant gold, in which time-trapped, filigree insects dance. Its depth and long-lasting fragrance development are like the play of light and shadow, which let you discover ever new details inside this stone, which is not one. Like the tree resin, which is sometimes millions of years old, "Encens Divin", thanks to incense and amber, also awakens associations for me with prehistory and early history, a time long before our time.
The scent takes me to Mesopotamia, to the first advanced civilizations, to cities like Ur and Akkad. Here a warm wind blows around the Zikkurate, but not only the people, also the gods war each other and must be appeased again and again with fragrances. Wise rulers like Hamurabi and Gilgamesh ensure that these rules are strictly observed, and so the incense can still be smelled in the warm stones and tasted in the warm, dusty air long after the sun has fallen over the horizon in the evening. That's the divine incense!
The association with "Akkad" by Lubin is by no means accidental, since these fragrances are soul mates. Both evoke a depth and beauty that few fragrance compositions can achieve. Both are not miserly with an abundance of ingredients from the Middle East, whereby the rose absolute and the balsamic cedar notes of "Encens Divin" make the fragrance for me even more beautiful and deeper than that of "Akkad".
If you love Akkad, you might fall for Encens Divin. I am it anyway with skin & hair and am happy to be able to wear this ancient, wonderfully radiant light-dark fragrance in the cooler months again.
But now to the fragrance: The peppery top note is astonishingly soft, almost with hints of honey and embedded in the already ascending incense, which also carries, envelops, connects and refines all the other notes in the further course.
If "Encens Divin" were a gemstone, it would be an amber - a magnificent, large, highly polished amber with facets ranging from dark orange-brown to brilliant gold, in which time-trapped, filigree insects dance. Its depth and long-lasting fragrance development are like the play of light and shadow, which let you discover ever new details inside this stone, which is not one. Like the tree resin, which is sometimes millions of years old, "Encens Divin", thanks to incense and amber, also awakens associations for me with prehistory and early history, a time long before our time.
The scent takes me to Mesopotamia, to the first advanced civilizations, to cities like Ur and Akkad. Here a warm wind blows around the Zikkurate, but not only the people, also the gods war each other and must be appeased again and again with fragrances. Wise rulers like Hamurabi and Gilgamesh ensure that these rules are strictly observed, and so the incense can still be smelled in the warm stones and tasted in the warm, dusty air long after the sun has fallen over the horizon in the evening. That's the divine incense!
The association with "Akkad" by Lubin is by no means accidental, since these fragrances are soul mates. Both evoke a depth and beauty that few fragrance compositions can achieve. Both are not miserly with an abundance of ingredients from the Middle East, whereby the rose absolute and the balsamic cedar notes of "Encens Divin" make the fragrance for me even more beautiful and deeper than that of "Akkad".
If you love Akkad, you might fall for Encens Divin. I am it anyway with skin & hair and am happy to be able to wear this ancient, wonderfully radiant light-dark fragrance in the cooler months again.
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In an English port in the late 19th century...
After I had just discovered the Penhaligon's fragrances for myself, especially the "Portraits" series, I of course also had to test this men's fragrance.
A liquid of the colour of cold-pressed olive oil rolls in the sample tube. After the application something indefinable, alcoholic is perceptible for a very short time, but it says goodbye to my skin already after a few seconds.
Now it gets exciting: after a few minutes I smell tar and ropes in the biting sun of a Victorian port. In my mind's eye, frigates marked by the sea and wind appear, sluggishly bobbling around at their berths. Only seagull cries, quiet creaking rigging and gurgling water are audible. Otherwise it is completely quiet - by British standards the too hot sun has brought all activities to a standstill.
Well, Lord George, you here? I wonder what this fancy-dressed, a little pale guy with the high top hat is doing here Seal an important deal? Even buying a ship or inspecting goods from India that he ordered over a year ago? He has a half-full glass with him, from which he always nervously sips a red-gold liquid. Ts-ts-ts! But that's not exactly the fine English way to go...
Whatever the visibly agitated lord intends - he obviously has to drink himself half an hour of courage before he disappears with his high-percentage drink between a stack of bags that add a slight pepper note to the smell of tar and heated wooden planks. Or is it the aftershave of the lord that turns out a little more penetrating in the heat than usual?
Very mysterious! - and an interesting, not everyday fragrance, which I can well imagine in a man who is as "sophisticated" as he is down-to-earth. I will not wear it myself because it is too masculine for me, but I already know to whom I bequeath the test tube: my good friend J., who is not only very fond of Victorian times, but also sailed around Gibraltar as a sailor on the frigate "Shtandart". No one else will appreciate him as much.
A liquid of the colour of cold-pressed olive oil rolls in the sample tube. After the application something indefinable, alcoholic is perceptible for a very short time, but it says goodbye to my skin already after a few seconds.
Now it gets exciting: after a few minutes I smell tar and ropes in the biting sun of a Victorian port. In my mind's eye, frigates marked by the sea and wind appear, sluggishly bobbling around at their berths. Only seagull cries, quiet creaking rigging and gurgling water are audible. Otherwise it is completely quiet - by British standards the too hot sun has brought all activities to a standstill.
Well, Lord George, you here? I wonder what this fancy-dressed, a little pale guy with the high top hat is doing here Seal an important deal? Even buying a ship or inspecting goods from India that he ordered over a year ago? He has a half-full glass with him, from which he always nervously sips a red-gold liquid. Ts-ts-ts! But that's not exactly the fine English way to go...
Whatever the visibly agitated lord intends - he obviously has to drink himself half an hour of courage before he disappears with his high-percentage drink between a stack of bags that add a slight pepper note to the smell of tar and heated wooden planks. Or is it the aftershave of the lord that turns out a little more penetrating in the heat than usual?
Very mysterious! - and an interesting, not everyday fragrance, which I can well imagine in a man who is as "sophisticated" as he is down-to-earth. I will not wear it myself because it is too masculine for me, but I already know to whom I bequeath the test tube: my good friend J., who is not only very fond of Victorian times, but also sailed around Gibraltar as a sailor on the frigate "Shtandart". No one else will appreciate him as much.
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