Swansch

Despite the oppressive heat, she had chosen to spend the day by the sea. She had decided to spend the afternoon in the shade of the lush garden. There in the hammock, next to the blooming jasmine, she dozed, stretched out lazily (when she noticed the young men watching her) or read a few pages of her book.
In the evening, as twilight descended and the fireflies became lively, she got up. She quickly jumped in the shower, generously applied lotion, and then slipped on her white linen dress.
The neighbors with the flashy house had invited everyone to a summer party. She wasn't really in the mood for it, but her parents wanted her to go together.
Upon arrival, she picked a flower and tucked it in her hair. She knew she was the most beautiful. Her youth, her tanned skin, and her long blonde hair were simply hypnotizing.
Even at two in the morning, it was still muggy. She lit a cigarette and pouted. Tomorrow she would spend the day in the garden again.

She wished this summer would never end.

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A wonderful scent for a sultry summer night. Floral, dense, muggy, floral, a tiny bit smoky, floral, white, radiant, floral, punchy, and beautiful. Did I already say floral?

Spring 2017, the first weeks of my pregnancy. Fortunately, unlike all the other female family members, I was spared from severe, hospital-stay-inducing nausea. I still felt a bit queasy, though. And above all: spraying my fragrances was out of the question. The hormones disguised all perfumes for me. All perfumes? Not quite, because a little potion called Glow resisted: the only scent that was acceptable to me.
Today, after the pregnancy is a thing of the past and the postpartum period has flushed out all the unnecessary hormones, I sprayed Glow on myself once again. It seemed like the right antidote after all the Christmas indulgence and the associated food scents.
But what makes Glow so different, a true antidote?
It smells wonderfully un-perfumed, simply clean and pure. Like sparkling clean shower gel. A bit sharp, synthetic, yes. Perhaps a slight note of Sagrotan? Like Sagrotan grapefruit with a hint of vanilla. With every breath, I mentally sit in the shower, washing myself in the bath. It is probably less of a perfume and more about conveying pore-deep cleanliness. Obviously just the right thing in the hormonal chaos - and after indulgences ;-)

"The Silk" doesn't actually smell like skin. And yet it does. It actually smells like silk.
Silkily, the fragrance wraps around its wearer.
It primarily smells of vanilla (orchid) and tonka bean. But anyone expecting something overly sweet is mistaken.
And that brings me to my headline. "The Silk" envelops the wearer so gently that it hardly stands out. Sure, you can smell it, but it doesn't smell like a perfume. "The Silk" actually smells like your own skin, but in perfection. If everything were to align, the skin would have a silky glow, be sun-kissed without any fine lines. The Silk is the perfection of skin. Incredible.
I really like the scent. But such perfection can't be worn every day. It's something truly special.

This wonderful scent is a dream. Fluffy, powdery, delicate... - almost my signature.
However, only in spring.
In summer? Way too overwhelming.
In autumn? Please not! Way too sour.
In winter? Way too delicate.

I don't know. But on me, it only works in spring. The perfect symbiosis between the first gentle rays of sunshine and cautiously budding flowers. Then Shalimar Initital L'Eau (I have the enchanting version "Si Sensuelle," but there shouldn't be any difference) transforms into fine, pink strands of sugar that wrap around my body and lightly powder it. Really, simply perfect. People sit near me in public spaces, even though there are so many free spots elsewhere when I wear the scent. Not that I would be off-putting, but in Germany, voluntary physical closeness is rather atypical. The perfume simply has an alluring effect. And to ensure that the fine fluffiness isn't TOO round and thus boring, I even think I smell a slight animalic note.

Why, why only in spring? In other weather, I can tolerate it less. But maybe that's a good thing: Then every wearing remains something special.

First of all: I have great difficulty naming (women's) fragrances as erotic. Most of the time, I find them cozy, striking, or sweet, where others rave about an electrifying attraction. So I simply categorize fragrances into "Like" and "Dislike." Until I got to know Ame Toscane. This fragrance is very sensual and sexy to me. And it's not because of the - in my eyes - borderline bottle. I didn't even know it before the first sniff.
No, Ame Toscane creates an incredibly erotic scent full of intimacy for me. A pretty young woman has just come out of the shower, where she cleaned herself with a peach shower gel and then uses a little body powder - et voilà. That's really all the perfume smells like. Peach shower gel with powder. And yet everything seems so authentic, a secret ingredient, all so intertwined that a beautiful fragrance emerges. And this, despite the fact that I don't even like fruity perfumes.
The sillage and longevity are also perfectly fine. However, what bothers me a bit here: I find the perfume so special that I don't want everyone to be able to smell me like this. It would be like spying through the keyhole into the bathroom.