TiaC

I have just gotten to know Lionora, and yet the scent has caught me so off guard that I feel the need to write something about it.

Actually, I tested Lionora mainly out of habit. I associate the scent of apricots, peaches, mangoes, and some other fruits with beautiful memories, so I quickly become interested in trying perfumes that promise these aromas. Well aware that these tests usually leave me rather unimpressed. I often like the scents quite well, but I usually feel no urge to wear them myself. This was the case recently with Peche Mirage. I was excited about my sample and tested the scent enthusiastically, but since then I have never felt the desire to use it again.

Lionora seems to be different. My sample arrived just as I was getting ready for work. I still had a little time, so I opened the envelope and sprayed the scent onto a piece of paper. Not bad, I thought. Maybe a bit too milky, and I detected the kind of sweetness that I didn’t like in Queening. Still, something about Lionora appealed to me so much that I decided to wear the scent directly to work. This is, in a way, a small risk and a real stress test for a perfume, as I usually cannot tolerate most of my scents at my workplace, where I am exposed to extreme temperatures and odors.

Right after applying it, I noticed that the scent is quite intense. Although I had only sprayed a little, I was enveloped in a veritable cloud of apricots. But not a bad one. During the drive to my workplace, I had to smile for the first time. Hmm, what is that? A creamy freesia, unusually sweet yet very beautiful. I liked that. I wondered if I could also detect a bit of tuberose, but it was mainly the freesia.

After working for about an hour, I suddenly caught a scent that felt very familiar to me. I couldn’t get enough of it, I kept enjoying it, and at the same time, I couldn’t figure out where I knew it from.
After pondering for quite a while, I suddenly remembered Passiflora by Guerlain. The passion fruit in Lionora is quite perceptible to me, and I was a bit surprised that I had only discovered it now during the process.
But there was more. Something else that I knew well. Something I had once liked very much and then forgotten. It took surprisingly long until I suddenly found myself transported back years, in the perfume department of a department store, on my way to a date, casually testing a few scents until I finally held the sparkling green heart in my hand and sprayed some of the perfume that would enchant me for the rest of the evening and beyond. That was "Aura (Eau de Parfum) | Mugler," and unexpectedly, Lionora has something of that scent for me. They are by no means identical, yet the slight similarity is enough to evoke vivid memories in me and give me a familiar sense of well-being.

I don’t know if there has been any other scent lately that has brought a smile to my face as often throughout the day as Lionora. I don’t think so. I know so many others, some that I would probably objectively rate as ‘better.’ But what good does it do me if I find the scents great but cannot wear them well? If they feel like a foreign body that I am dragging around with me.
With Lionora, it’s different. Although I perceive the scent as intense and long-lasting, it uplifts me. Almost like a little energy booster. This is probably due to the beautiful memories. Not just of Passiflora and Aura, but also of the apricot shampoo I always used in my youth, which is associated with that feeling of unrestrained zest for life. It fits well with the first signs of spring that are just appearing. It’s a bit crazy what scents can trigger, but above all, it’s very beautiful.

Lionora smells a bit artificial. However, it’s not the relatively new, extremely piercing kind of synthetic scent that I know from Erba Pura and similar fragrances, but rather the kind known from scents like Aura, which many fruity-sweet perfumes and body care products have had since the 90s. I don’t mind that. The hair care associations don’t bother me at all.
Only this strange, lactonic sugary sweetness that I already know from Queening and can’t quite place could ruin the scent for me. That’s also the only reason why I haven’t ordered a bottle right away, but will test it a bit further just to be cautious.

For me, Lionora primarily smells of passion fruit, apricot, osmanthus, and freesia. I perceive the scent as sweet, fruity, and somewhat creamy floral/milky. There’s also a slight hint of green freshness, so the sweetness doesn’t completely overwhelm me here. In the base, I would have guessed vanilla. However, tonka is listed, which I don’t perceive here.

Lionora smells as if you’ve just taken a fresh shower, washed your hair with apricot shampoo, and then applied a body lotion that smells of freesia and a bit of vanilla. On top of that, a few spritzes of a passion fruit perfume and a forest fruit gummy candy in your mouth.
Does that sound beautiful? Probably not necessarily. But who cares, I like it.
It might also be interesting to note that I liked the development on the test strip significantly less than on my skin.

I perceive the longevity and sillage as good, or just right for me. Lionora lasts a long time and is also well perceivable by others. With normal dosing, however, you probably won’t fill a room and overshadow everything else. Despite the intensity, it’s a scent where I feel like I am wearing it, that it accompanies me, and not that it completely overwhelms or suffocates me.

It’s quite a bright, cheerful scent, and when I think of the occasion and the season, I see Lionora more during the day, in everyday life, and especially in spring. At the same time, I think the scent is versatile and will be wearable almost anytime and anywhere, as long as you like this type of fragrance.

When I woke up this morning, I didn’t have to think long about which scent I wanted to wear. It was immediately clear that it would be Lionora again. So I spent the day once more in an apricot cloud and was delighted every time the cheerful passion fruit flashed.

Lionora is really not the best and not the most beautiful perfume I know, but it evokes a kind of happiness in me like hardly any other, so I wonder: how can a scent be more beautiful?

Oh Clara, you intoxicatingly sweet lady, you have a lot of rum mixed with rock candy. You are dark, warm, but also a bit bitter and brittle with your lovely patch. And yet so tempting.

When you come to visit, you stay a long time. Preferably the whole night.

I love Clara. Whether she is beautiful, I do not know. She is good company. Special, a bit capricious, and always benevolent, she provides warmth and security without boredom. So sweet and yet not at all cute.

I don't know many places where I would like to take Clara out. But here, at my home, she is my favorite guest. Especially in the cold, when the nights are long and the days are already dark.

I want to rave about Clara, but to get back to normal: the bottle is a feast for the eyes. Beautiful, and the color of the liquid matches the scent perfectly.
The longevity is very good. On my skin, I can smell Clara for about 10 hours or longer, with a sillage that is not overwhelming.
The notes listed here correspond with my scent impression, so I don't want to list them all again.

I do not understand why Clara is marketed as a women's fragrance. Yes, it is a sweet scent, but so many sweets are now being targeted at men that I cannot comprehend why this one should be reserved for us women. For me, the scent is unisex, like many other portraits as well. Especially since not every lady may enjoy so much alcohol.

Clara is not a versatile scent, not an everyday fragrance. For me, it is something private that I like to enjoy at home or on long autumn walks all by myself. However, I think this portrait could also be a lovely going-out scent for some people, e.g., for a bar visit, and I can even imagine Clara being quite attractive and very beautiful on a man.

Floral fragrances often have a hard time with me. While I usually quite like them, it is not uncommon for me to find them difficult to wear. They become too overwhelming, disturb me, and simply do not suit me. Coffee is also not among the notes I typically seek.

So, I had no great expectations for a fragrance that has Iris right in its name and is obviously garnished with coffee.
Still, I was curious about another perfume from the L'Art et la Matière series, in which I have already discovered some very special favorites, and I had been wishing for quite some time to test "Iris Torréfié | Guerlain."

Then the moment finally arrived. I was lucky and found a lovely swap partner here on Parfumo, with whom I could exchange a whole bunch of beautiful fragrances. Iris Torréfié was among them.

When the fragrance package arrived, I was very excited and immediately sprayed all the scents onto little cards. The first impression was good. There was no scent that I didn't like. I also found Iris Torréfié beautiful, although it had an unexpectedly green freshness, and the coffee seemed quite bitter, black, and probably already cold.
After a few hours, I conducted a sort of small blind test. I mixed up the cards on the table and then sniffed them one by one with my eyes closed. The one I liked best would accompany me through the next day and be the first tested on my skin. It was "Iris Torréfié | Guerlain." By now, I could hardly perceive the coffee. It was more like a subtle hint of tea in the background.

My day with Iris starts again with coffee. Not bad for the morning, I think, even if this coffee seems a bit green and sour to me. In fact, it’s somewhat like wanting to drink black coffee with bergamot. A few roasted notes are certainly present as well. There’s also a certain cardamom spiciness. My olfactory impression fits perfectly with the top note indicated on Parfumo.
What I describe may not sound particularly inviting at first, but I actually find it very pleasant and a bit invigorating.

The scent soon transforms; the coffee quickly fades, and from this point on, Iris Torréfié is no longer a coffee scent for me. Rather, I think I can subtly detect a hint of tea in the background from time to time. However, it primarily presents itself as a spicy iris scent with a woody undertone, which will change repeatedly over the next few hours while still remaining true to itself. Sometimes powdery, sometimes creamy, sometimes refreshingly light green, sometimes warming, sometimes reminiscent of sweet dragées, then again a bit more bitter, spicy, and floral, Iris Torréfié shows me more facets than most other fragrances I have tested so far, while still staying true to itself (even though I feel that familiar notes occasionally flutter by, like Allure Eau de Parfum).

The longevity is excellent for me. Iris Torréfié truly lasts all day, is always well perceivable, and yet never too much. The sillage is absolutely perfect for my taste. You can smell the fragrance well when you come close to me, but I certainly do not disturb strangers who are meters away.

Iris Torréfié feels to me like a feminine scent, rather a bit more mature than very young, that fits well for many occasions. A lovely evening at the theater, a family celebration, meeting friends, a shopping spree, a day at the office, a restaurant visit - no matter what, Iris Torréfié works for me always. I also see hardly any restrictions regarding the seasons, except perhaps in the height of summer.
Overall, Iris Torréfié is a lovely all-rounder that I could also imagine as a signature scent.

My first test was followed by several more. My first sample was quickly used up, I sought a second one, and now I also have a bottle. Because Iris Torréfié currently belongs to the 5 fragrances from my collection that I reach for most often.

And today is again such a day with Iris. I currently have several new samples here that I would like to test, yet I am drawn once more to "Iris Torréfié | Guerlain," and the others will have to wait. This is the decisive point for me to dedicate a few lines to this fragrance here:

Iris Torréfié: always present - never too much - always beautiful.

I have found a new favorite. My Iris.

Guerlain has many fragrances that appeal to me, and ever since I discovered and fell in love with Angélique Noire a while ago, I have become increasingly interested in the other candidates from the L'Art et la Matière series.

With some, I was pretty sure right away that I would like them; with others, I thought they probably wouldn't suit my taste, and with Cuir Beluga, I had no real idea at all. Sure, almost everything I read about this fragrance sounds simply dreamy, but "aldehydes, leather, and patchouli"... that's usually not what I desire.

When I eventually ordered a sample of Cuir Beluga here at the Souk from a nice Parfumo, my expectations were somewhat tempered. But of course, I was excited and a bit curious.

I still remember exactly the first spray on a paper strip. "Wow, this is very vintage!" I thought. The aldehydes were immediately present to my nose, and I could also perceive the patchouli quite well. Are there people who still enjoy wearing something like this today? Apparently, yes, definitely. But what is this? Okay, let's wait and see. After a few minutes, I sniffed again and yes: aldehydes, patchouli, powder, a bit of vanilla, but leather? Where was the suede? I couldn't find it at all or only with a lot of goodwill. I sent a message to a perfume-loving friend and described Cuir Beluga roughly like this: "old-fashioned, but not outdated, rather classic perhaps and quite nice, powdery, little vanilla, and hardly any leather. For me, it's probably not for me. I also don't think it lasts long. Seems to be evaporating already."

That was it for the moment, as I had to leave for work. When I returned home about 11 hours later and opened the door, a delicate, beautiful scent immediately wafted towards me. Not unusual, as there are often perfumed paper strips lying around the house somewhere, releasing their scent. Usually, you just smell a mix of various fragrances.
I noticed this time was different when I sat down at my desk and suddenly perceived the scent there more intensely. I probably looked a bit like a dog that has picked up a scent, but the source of the lovely smell was quickly identified. It was the paper with Cuir Beluga.

My God, how beautiful it is! I buried my nose in the paper and immediately had images in my head. What must it be like to put on a soft sweater or an elegant coat that smells like this? How would it feel to hug a man who wears such a perfume? Simply dreamy. And there it was, the suede. So soft, delicate, and light, as if someone had dusted it with the finest vanilla powder. I could no longer smell the aldehydes, but the patchouli was there in perhaps the most pleasant way I have encountered so far. Subtle, with a minimal earthiness, perfectly balanced in combination with the other notes. Plus, a tiny hint of freshness. Just right and overall absolutely harmonious.

It was immediately clear that I would wear Cuir Beluga the next day, and it convinced me then as well. It lasted all day, gave me a wonderful feeling throughout the day, and in my hair, it was even still noticeable and lovely the next morning.
I suddenly understood what other people mean when they say a perfume changes their posture. Cuir Beluga makes me softer and more upright at the same time; it slows me down and somewhat transports me away from the hustle and bustle of everyday life. It is a kind of reminder of something old, familiar, that had been a bit lost. I feel that Cuir Beluga emphasizes my femininity. At the same time, I find it unisex and am sure it can smell fantastic on men as well.

So I reported back to my good friend, and I can't remember exactly what I had to say, but one thing I do remember. I said: "if someone wears Angélique Noir, I would think: wow, person XY is wearing a wonderful perfume. If someone wears Cuir Beluga, I would think: wow, person XY just smells wonderful." That might really be it, because I actually find that Cuir Beluga merges extraordinarily well with the wearer and becomes a part of them. Everything is so fine and without sharp boundaries that it's hard to distinguish it from the rest. At least that's the case for me.

Categorizing it is a bit difficult for me here, but I would say it's more autumn/winter than summer (though it works on warm days too); more everyday than a big evening (but it would fit there as well), rather knit dress and trench, fine sweater or silk blouse than party dress; elegant; classic but not too old-fashioned; stylish; grown-up; quite seductive, but in a subtle, gentle way; feminine (yet also unisex) and not girly at all.

Enough of the many words, I just ordered it and I'm so excited about this scent that I thought I should dedicate a few lines to it.
"For me, it's probably not for me" seems very far away, even though it's only been a few days.

On the paper, I found Cassili uninteresting and bland. Nevertheless, I wanted to give the fragrance a chance, and indeed my first impression while wearing it was positive. Unspectacular, but pleasant and beautiful. Softer, or less loud and penetrating than, for example, Delina or Oriana.

And the scent? I smell apricot and actually not much more. Cassili strongly reminds me of an apricot shampoo for children that I liked to use in the 90s. Just like back then, when I had just washed my hair, I was once again surrounded by this lovely, light touch. Only with Cassili lasting for many hours. Consistent without much change.
That may sound boring, but I could actually appreciate that, or rather, it even excited me so much that after a while of wearing it, I had to tell a friend who is also interested in perfumes about it and rave a bit.

The sillage is exactly my thing. You perceive the scent again and again yourself, and other people can smell it too, but gently and not at all intrusive or annoying, I think.

But is that enough for the price? I wasn't quite sure. The idea of having this rather unspectacular, but still simply pleasant and wonderfully lasting fragrance experience again and again in the spring was indeed tempting. A scent without edges and corners, where nothing bothers and that is simply beautiful.
Although I unfortunately tend to order fragrances very quickly, or rather hastily, I was able to control myself in this case. Because the rude awakening came, quite literally.

I actually woke up in the middle of the night and thought: "Heavens, what smells so weirdly like plastic here?". Is it really plastic? No, more like a kind of hard rubber perhaps... Exactly, the doll heads of my childhood! My entire pillow smelled just like that, so intensely that it woke me up. Not really 'bad' or disgusting, but still very artificial and really disturbing for me. Apparently, the great longevity of some scents has its price for my nose, and in the case of Cassili, this seems to be it.
I can well imagine that I might be a bit sensitive here, and that other people do not perceive this or find it not too unpleasant. For me, however, Cassili is out of the running for now, although I would actually like to give the perfume another chance. Maybe on days when I know I will shower or bathe again before going to bed.

I would like to write more about the actual scent beforehand, but I don't smell much more than just apricot (for whatever reason). Soft, unobtrusive, well-groomed, lovely, but not overly sweet, I think (as long as one doesn't overdo it) and not scratchy at all. Not very serious, perhaps a bit playful, but not too childish. I often have the problem with fruity scents that I quickly perceive something as slightly fermented. This is not the case with Cassili.
By the way, my husband only smelled peach.

The longevity is top-notch for me.

I can't say much about the target audience either, as I think that Cassili could theoretically appeal to all women regardless of age, as long as they have a preference for scents of this kind. In any case, I can imagine the perfume wonderfully on a very young woman and just as beautifully on a more mature lady. Perhaps women who like to use delicately fruity scented care products. And who knows, maybe one or the other man will also like Cassili, even though I perceive the scent as very feminine.

I also can't say much about the occasion. Perhaps not for a big appearance or to hit the clubs at night. But a lovely companion for a completely normal day in spring, for example, for brunch with family or a meeting with friends in a café, possibly also pleasant as a guest at a summer wedding or simply when you want to end the day with your partner or friends on the terrace on a mild evening. Overall, for me, it is more of a scent for the day and for the warmer season and somehow more leisure than work for my taste (although Cassili would definitely also be great for the office, I just associate the smell more with relaxed weekends and free time).

The bottles from Parfums de Marly do not particularly appeal to me visually, but they are undoubtedly high quality, and the color of the bottle is absolutely fitting for the scent.