Somebody

What a beautiful, cozy, and somehow subtle fragrance this is!

Only tested by chance, I find here another representative of what I secretly call "theater fragrances," which also includes Skin on Skin and Moulin Rouge for me. This must be due to a very special interaction of the iris with the other ingredients.

At the beginning, I distinctly perceive a dry paper note, similar to what I encounter in Dior Homme. Mild, with a pleasant sweetness and only very subtly dusty. Accompanying this is silky powder, and yes, perhaps even something reminiscent of lipsticks from the past.
It is an intimate scent that does not seek attention but instead provides me with gentle comfort, which I can enjoy intensely in quiet moments.

How does it fit the flamboyant personality of Dita von Teese? Often, stage people are quite different in private than in the spotlight, introverted, almost shy. Does the name "Vaniteese" contain a reference to the English "to vanish," meaning disappearance, or is it more related to the Latin "Vanitas," which means empty show or vanity? Both could be possible, with a touch of self-irony and disillusionment.

In any case, it is the most unexcited yet remarkable fragrance in the trilogy with Vedette and Victresse.

When I notice a new fragrance in the nearby drugstore, I rarely pass by without giving myself a little spritz on the arm while shopping.

There have been many from Rammstein, many of which have disappeared from the lineup. Only a few have stuck in my memory or made their way into my collection. This one was also sprayed on in passing, and the first impression was overwhelmingly positive.

It opens balsamic-spicy. I distinctly smell star anise and briefly sense something aromatic and strong like rum. A warm smoky note quickly joins in, not as cold and sharp as I perceive with smoked ham. There’s also a bit of gnarly leather that I remember from Kokain Gold, adding to the scent impression. But everything remains warm and pleasantly blended. To me, it doesn’t smell synthetic. I find the development into a more human, slightly "dirty" scent, reminiscent of intimacy and passion, to be the most beautiful aspect. Is that castoreum? When I sniff closely at the sprayed spot, I also catch the fine sweet aroma of mandarin peel and once again the rum mentioned at the beginning.

For me, it’s a successful fragrance that gives me a feeling of security and, with its skin-like radiance, is quite suitable for igniting the imagination on gloomy autumn days and perhaps even more…

The red Pino shares only the shape of the bottle with coniferous trees, forests, and cones.
In terms of character, he is a calm, refined companion with whom I like to retreat for some chilling time.

The top note is quite spicy, but it fades quickly. I can distinctly recognize nutmeg and also the citrusy aspect, while thyme holds back.
Lavender quickly joins in and merges with saffron and the base notes, none of which I can specifically pick out, creating on my skin a dry paper scent, to which a delicate barbershop vibe adds itself with varying intensity, not harsh, but slightly sweet.

I think of my grandfather’s shaving soap, whipped with a real hair brush, and how he would smell fragrant and wrapped in his gray cardigan while telling stories "from the past," just as I am sharing this story with you now.
Thus, Amber Woods meanders closely, generating a quiet sense of well-being without me ever thinking of amber or forest with this scent.

I really like it despite its weak sillage and longevity.

It was by chance that I "stumbled" upon this fragrance online not too long ago.
A quick search on Parfumo later, it was wrapped up, not least because of the bottle.
Simple yet with a wink, the smoke flag cap, which in my opinion skillfully skirts around kitsch.
Moreover, the 80s have shaped my scent preferences and produced several perfumes that I still love - if they still exist.
After Romeo Gigli passed me by unnoticed back then, this experience should now be made up for.

Romeo is clearly a child of its time, appearing quite antiquated in today’s fragrance landscape.
It is predictably not sweet at all, and the citrus notes in the top note pass by me unnoticed.
From the very beginning, I perceive it as quite herbal and once again note that Tagetes, which is also referred to as "Stinkerle" in our area, develops rather unpleasantly on me in all the fragrances that contain it.
All the wonderful flowers like freesia, cassia, iris, or rose, which I love individually, unfortunately cannot steer the ship in their entirety.

Nevertheless, Romeo possesses an opulent richness that exerts a certain fascination on me.
The intensely orange Chloe from the 70s, launched by Karl Lagerfeld, comes to mind. Here, I find certain olfactory parallels.
Although I wouldn’t buy Romeo for its characterful scent, it captivates me in a sentimental way with so many memories and associations that the purchase was worthwhile for that reason alone.
And the bottle with its pretty cap always brings a smile to my face.

The wind blows where it wants.

Until now, I only knew Ambar and Arabian Nights by Jesus del Pozo, and since neither of them really blew me away, del Pozo was filed away as a second-tier interesting brand.

Then I unexpectedly came across a leftover bottle of Amber Patchouli Nights.
Of course, the name generated certain associations and expectations that were not initially met.

Nevertheless, when I first sniffed at the spray head - wow, it smells great!
Although it doesn’t smell like what I know as amber, definitely not like patchouli, and I wouldn’t describe it as an overtly oriental evening or night fragrance either.
In fact, I find it difficult to describe the scent progression.

Somehow, the notes of the pyramid tumble around wildly on my skin and are everything at once: spicy-floral-fruity-woody.
The jumble is beautiful, perhaps that’s why I lack the words for a precise description. Could this be the reason why this olfactory gem has only received two statements so far?
The most distinctly perceivable notes are Guaiac wood (which reminds me of Gaiac by Micallef), jasmine, and tuberose.
In some other fragrances, tuberose can be challenging and has enormous headache potential, but here I can tolerate it well and perceive it as an indispensable part of the overall composition.
The namesakes certainly contribute their part, but I cannot explicitly identify them.
This may also be because I had a pronounced patchouli phase in the last few weeks, and nothing could be strong enough to envelop me in that regard, which has dulled my nose to the note.

The aura of Amber Patchouli Nights is warm, inviting, friendly, unobtrusive for me.
And the bottle also appeals to me with its beautiful berry tone and playful star pattern.

My heartfelt thanks to M., through whom I get to enjoy this fragrance!