Shepilein

I once read a review of a perfume where the user described the scent of pink pepper as reminiscent of pencils. I couldn't help but chuckle at that. Does that make me a pencil sniffer now? I can only say that I am a fan of pink pepper and can see a certain parallel there. Lipstick associations come to mind with scents that feature pink pepper and violet. So why not include all pencils right away?

I can immediately sniff out pink pepper, so I knew right away that The Original by Eight & Bob was for me. It is indeed a very special scent: sharp, woody, and somehow synthetic. I personally find the lemon perfect in combination. Zesty and sharp go together wonderfully, and thus the scent takes me to the next stage. If you are not a fan of pink pepper, I must disappoint you; the pink berries remain and are your intimate companions. As many before me have described, there is a play with creaminess and the pink berries in combination. Therefore, it is not a sweet scent. If one had to categorize the fragrance, I would place it in the "Your Skin but better" category. The warm components merge with the pink pepper and create this elegant scent for me, which is very delicately woven with the other fragrance notes. At first, this "pencil-like" note is much stronger, but over time it becomes much creamier and compromises with the other notes. In the dry down, it is truly reminiscent of whipped cream, which I find really beautiful. The pink pepper remains gently in the background and allows itself to be enveloped by the whipped cream. A super beautiful pink pepper scent that might even convince the skeptics of pink pepper. No trace of retro lipstick...

The bottle looks elegant and minimalist. It must contain a fine, milky essence. The name reinforces this association. Expectations rise. The first spray is gentle. Fresh, milky, and not sweet. But still no fig milk. Some fragrances that want to convey milky components rely on pear. That's why I'm a bit surprised that the supposed mandarin is in the top note. The scent is neither citrusy nor fruity. After the very mild start, it turns green. The fig takes over everything. Nestled in powdery milk, the scent becomes a blend of musk and nature. When I tested the fragrance some time ago, I also thought it somehow smelled like cucumber. A little Moscow Mule isn't necessarily bad, but the milky component somehow dissipates because of it. The fig clearly reminds me of Philosykos by Diptyque. However, Philosykos is even greener and herbaceous. The dry down, on the other hand, is unremarkable. Pleasantly soft and a bit warmer, infused with tonka bean. Unfortunately, that doesn't save it. I find the scent beautiful and especially suitable for everyday wear. However, I won't buy the fragrance since I have Philosykos at home. Moreover, the scent is caught in between. If it’s supposed to be sandalwood, then please more of it. I really like the top note, as it simply radiates pure milk. Unfortunately, I find the fig too strong as it develops. It's strange to see myself write this, as I actually love fig. It somehow comes across as if one was searching for a note that gives the whole character. Out of love for fig, it has been overdone a bit. Therefore, it should rather be called "Fig Blanc." Unfortunately, the sandalwood theme gets lost.

Fortunately, there is still a Karstadt near me, and while most customers rush directly to the Tom Ford, Parfums de Marly, and other recommended fragrances, I am repeatedly drawn to the hidden treasures that are often overlooked. This includes the scents from Olfactive Studio, which are tucked away in a corner at the back of the fragrance department. Chambre Noir, dusty and unnoticed, piqued my curiosity.

I must say that I don't quite perceive the pink pepper that is supposed to be present at first. While the initial spray is peppery, it is more dominated by incense. The incense is slightly sweet and not too heavy, which, in my opinion, makes the fragrance less intense and does not cause one to recoil. Patchouli is the driving force that operates permanently in the background, much like a sound engineer. Fortunately, it is not too strong, as that could quickly become stale and musty. Nevertheless, the fragrance becomes dark and sultry solely through these two notes. Until now, I found the scent pleasant but not groundbreaking.

Now I could almost say that it feels like a burlesque show. The curtain swings aside and she appears: the plum. Just that sounds quite suggestive. It adds a certain something to the whole. For me, plum embodies a note that definitely exudes sensuality. Ripe, feminine, sultry, and mysterious. In combination with the already heavy notes, the plum brings a lovely fruity ripeness. Slightly sweet and velvety soft, the fragrance becomes a well-rounded affair. This does not change in the base note. It becomes a bit more animalistic and creamier, but the essence of the fragrance remains intact. It is definitely, as some have already described here, a going-out scent. Something for a bar where one drinks whiskey in a classy manner. The lights are dimmed. Almost like in a darkroom. Is the alcohol going to my head, or is it the perfume? I have just been wrapped around the finger.

Oh, regarding the similarity to other fragrances: It is a mix between Tobacco Vanille and Cartier Oud Santal. The plum is quite prominent, so I wouldn't say it resembles Tobacco Vanille. Oud Santal is somewhat similar with the plum note.

The experience of entering an Aesop shop is something special. I must say, the perfumes look more like hand soaps in these pump containers. Despite the appearance and this somewhat unique presentation, I am positively surprised. "Marrakesch Intense" does not impress with the intensity of spices. If you are looking for the spice market in Morocco, Aesop may not be the best choice. Arabic perfumes like those from the brand Lattafa offer a variety of spice bombs to choose from. Upon entering the store, Aesop conveys more of a spa feeling. This atmosphere is also reflected in the perfumes. "Marrakesch Intense" therefore reminds me of a visit to a hammam with steam sauna in a 5-star hotel in the old town of Marrakech. Beautiful fragrance oils float in the air, and the scent trail is not overloaded but finely balanced. It is not too intrusive, but rather calming.

This version of Marrakesch is refined with a bit more rose and jasmine. At first, the cardamom and clove are very intense. The spices associated with Marrakesch are present in moderate amounts. Over time, the spices fade a bit. What remains is still a spicy scent, but in a finer version. The floral notes, especially the rose, are beautifully harmonized with the other nuances. This gives the perfume a hint of holy water. Personally, I find spa scents very lovely, and for me, Marrakesch can also smell fine and not so spicy. Perhaps I still miss a bit of mint, green tea, and honey to represent the character of Morocco. But as it is, it is a more abstract interpretation of Marrakesch. I believe that not everything with oriental traits needs to smell exactly like all the spices. "Marrakesch Intense" is Aesop's own interpretation of Marrakesch, and in a beautiful spa manner. The scent is indeed special, as many spa scents either smell very citrusy or strongly of cedarwood. This scent is a pleasant change and truly smells very high quality to me.

Am I this or am I not? You can fall in love with a fragrance or dismiss it immediately. With Fleur de Peau, I didn’t fall in love right away. The initial notes are a bit off-putting. I didn’t see the lipstick-like quality on myself immediately and rather dismissed it as outdated. But once you free yourself from that association, the lipstick note reveals something noble. The middle phase of the fragrance is very soapy and pure, almost innocent and a bit too soft. That’s why I don’t quite like the middle part as much. However, as the nice saleswoman told me: "The women who initially spray Fleur de Peau always come back when the scent has dried on the skin." What can I say, this scent that lingers on the skin is magical. The base note is characterized by ambrette seed and musk, and is dust-dry. These dry fragrance notes convey the feeling of dried ingredients that have been processed into a powder like in a pharmacy and then transformed into a pure tincture.

So let my association influence you a bit: You’re just strolling through the old town of Vienna, somewhat aimlessly, and then you discover this small, inconspicuous pharmacy with Art Deco elements. You are in an old wood-paneled pharmacy, with dozens of shelves and cabinets. You actually need nothing, but somehow you feel dissatisfied. You’re curious and just wanted to take a look inside. You feel a bit out of place. Your hair isn’t right, and you’ve worn your outfit too many times. It’s one of those days when you don’t feel particularly special. This old pharmacy still makes tinctures entirely by hand. The quiet pharmacist, who immediately knows what you need, hands you a bottle that looks rather unremarkable. The bottle is minimalist and heavy. When you spray the tincture, you feel the historical story of the pharmacy, and then the old story merges with the modern. You are right in the middle, the focal point of this metamorphosis. The tincture is against the feeling of uniformity and dissatisfaction. Suddenly, you are immersed in luxury, and your problems fade a bit into the background. You yourself undergo a small metamorphosis. The outfit suddenly appears elegant, with vintage charm. Your hair no longer looks messy, but casual and effortless. You leave the pharmacy with the bottle. Now you stroll through the old town of Vienna, and you don’t even mind that you just spent €165 on this tincture, because you feel special.