Tessence

She sits at the bar, her hair falling over her shoulders in perfect waves. With her red lipstick smile, she coquettishly thanks the bartender as she accepts her martini. She feels the glances of the men around her, lowers her eyes and smiles into her glass.
Her little black dress fits like a glove, but leaves enough to the imagination - unlike the slit on her one leg, which is almost forbiddingly high. With her legs crossed, she sits perfectly draped on the bar stool. The red soles of her high heels glow in the dim light.

When someone new enters the bar, she turns around with a questioning look. Her smile widens, she rests her soft cheek on her palm and maintains eye contact. She knows she won't be going home alone today.

**

Hollali, that really is a fragrance that should be banned! Or rather not, because it's really great. I can't smell any specific fragrance notes and I'm also having a hard time describing it. It's syrupy, but not because of the sweetness, it sticks to you and casts a spell.
I can understand that it polarizes and not everyone likes it, but I think it really has something pheromone-(un)like.
Even if I don't have to seduce anyone in the near future and have no idea when to wear it, I still couldn't part with my sample.
A masterpiece!

Or also: A skin chemistry rant.

But before that, a short anecdote about how the fragrance found me:
From a dear Parfuma I got a sample of NR Musc Noir and when I opened the letter, I was blown away - but not by the Musc Noir, as I was quickly allowed to determine (the actually disappointed me), but by the small love letter. The Parfuma had namely scented, and really dufte. I could not put the letter aside for long, but sniffed it again and again and wondered what it was. The letter enveloped me in a spicy-creamy, slightly floral cloud - my cloud 7, so to speak - and everything was nice and round. Everything fit and reminded me a bit of my favorite Lenor fabric softener, which (my heart still weeps) has been discontinued. The dark green, emerald and ivory blossom.
But that's matrrial for another rant.

So I snuck up on said perfumer and asked, holy grasshopper, why does the fragrance mail smell so terrific?
About a day I then anxious, and finally the news:
Crystal Noir.

I tipped from the Latschen, would never have thought that is the. So off I went, sample procured and off on the test strip. Oh how beautiful. There he was, my love letter fragrance and I floated again on my Wölkchen.
Today then on one of my fragrance walks testgetragen.
And...
Phew, which starts yes fresher than I thought! Because of black crystal.
Hm. Ginger is probably not so mine as a perfume. Rather stay in the teacup, my friend!

And then kawusch - he was gone. Wait, anosmia? Ah, no, there he is again. The ginger slowly said adieu and the floral notes took the lead, albeit with a prickly-disturbing constant accompaniment. I can only assume that this is the pepper.
At some point, the creaminess finally comes, but also the Piekselt me.

Back home then envelops me the sillage, which is yet clearly powerful. However, I also have a sensitive nose. Such has also my little mini-me, which is why the dark crystal should leave my skin again. But oops. It's not just spikes, it's barbs! Even after four soap removal measures, he was still there - but now without piekseln and more like my little love letter.

Hmpf. With my skin chemistry I'm not talking for the next few days, I'm huffy. Not the first time that she does funny things.

By the way, I can confirm a certain parallel to the base of This is Her or the Zadigs - but they are rather loosely known. Crystal Noir may have passed it by once.

And thanks to those who have written in the statements that they smell wet bathing suits.
I smell since then also.

It is once again totally stressful. The Mini-Me does not want to sleep, the work does not run properly, or I simply do not get behind with the Älltaglichen.
Then I feel it already slowly tingle in the neck. I stand under river, the time runs away, thousand important things in the head.
And then Mr. Thera P. comes and gently puts his hand on my shoulder. He says quietly but clearly "Everything will be fine. I'm here."
Like a small shield from everything that may come, Mr. Thera P. now accompanies me and whenever the world tries to collapse on me, I hear his soft voice again and I take a deep breath.

Mr. Thera P. is not a loud companion, but he does not have to be. If he speaks, then bilaterally. Except someone may in my well-being area, then this is invited gladly into our Zwiegespräch.

I call him Mr. Thera P., but it could just as well be his wife. To be honest, I think they take turns after a while. But that's to be expected of them with the heavy work.

Mr. Thera P. begins his working day as my grounding anchor freshly rested. He likes to have a tangerine with him - vitamins help to stay healthy, he likes to remind me. Then at noon, his wife brings over some flowers and lingers. But just like the two of them, the flowers are nothing exciting, nothing screaming.
When Mr. Thera P.'s workday ends, he still somehow continues to be present as a wooden-skinned memory.

And always his aura is present. As a cozy blanket, as a warm relaxing bath, as a hug, as all the good you need to get through this and any other day.

Earlier, my husband came playfully waving his hands in the living room and wiggled conspiratorially with his eyebrows - he had thus got hold of a perfume sample again. And was obviously not averse.
Interested, I sniffed the breeze and then again at his wrist.
Hmmmm.
"Which one is that?", I asked, but decided to change my mind directly: "No, stop. I want to be unbiased."
So I took a few more breaths and slowly an image formed in my mind, which I tried to put into words for my better half.

"So it's not a cuddly scent for me. It doesn't snuggle, it doesn't invite me to come into your arms."
It lacked a certain softness that I like so much in men's fragrances. Invictus tends to keep me at a distance. The maritime notes can be really good Recognize, very fresh and as I find cool.

"I see you wearing it more in a black suit," I then followed up. "But also more when we're sitting across from each other in a fancy restaurant than next to each other."
(Then it was already clear to me that this was not a fragrance for my husband. This one rarely wears a suit and is style-wise more in the lumberjack chic/hipster area.)
And a few minutes later:
"Honestly, I can see myself having dinner with my boss right now."

The coolness of the top note transitions relatively quickly for me into a synthetic that creates even more distance. Hence the image with the boss. Invictus is not bad - I find him sparingly dosed professional, fresh, well-groomed, masculine in any case. Classic perhaps, as one imagines an expensive shower gel or deodorant.
But it is not a fragrance that I want to have on my husband. At least not at home.

Another point is the sillage - this has been powerful for us. In our whole house Invictus was present, and that with only two sparing test sprayers. And after a while, my husband also got quite a headache.
So at least I did not have to convince him that the cup may not move in with us.
I continue to prefer to cuddle with Le Male.

Oh my. I wanted to love this perfume so much. Probably I influenced with utopian expectations and (as a former employee of a library) approached with equally high hopes. And unfortunately, I got so not at all what I had hoped.
Do not get me wrong - Whispers in the Library is not bad, God knows.
But for me just no library whispers.

At the spray head of the tester I could sniff a vanilla note, at the same time something that went in the direction of vinegar - but not penetrant-bad. And yes, that is in itself the smell of decomposing paper (or just the books).
Shortly after spraying, I was met by a powdery creaminess (or a creamy powderiness?), with a certain mustiness that could actually be interpreted as dustiness.
But then a floral note appears very present - and overruns everything else. Patchouli does not help there. My husband (who always has to serve as a second nose, poor) would have liked to escape at that point. Yes well, he does not like patchouli - so not good conditions - but he rather complained about the sillage. This was at least overwhelming on me. So we stood in the not-so-quiet whisper and he tried to figure out what was suddenly biting his nose. First he got a headache, then his nose shut down.
Fortunately, it hit me not so violently, although I'm usually rather the allergy sufferer of the two of us.

Anyways, I sniffed again and again as now Alleinlkämpferin on my arm and perceived a luxurious grooming. The Drydown followed then much later pleasantly woody - my favorite part in the fragrance.

You see, I am ambivalent. The perfume is good, but for me rather an average special women's fragrance about which I can not say too much. I do not know what exactly I expected. More library? More dust and musty?
But then the fragrance would certainly not really portable.

Maybe it's quite good that my bibliophile I do not have to deal with the question of whether we become friends or not - the nose of my better half has taken with this decision.