Turandot

Thanks to a generous perfume member, it is possible for me to take a very special journey through time. A journey into epochs that I have never experienced, but which always appeal to me when I see examples somewhere, whether in pictures or on journeys. The aesthetics that I - without actually having a deeper knowledge of the material - perceive as Art Deco appeals to me in an extraordinary way, without me being able to justify it. I guess I'm not miles out of line here, ranking Miracle that way. Not only do I feel this way about the beautiful bottle, but I also feel the spirit of this art form in the perfume.

The fragrance is rightly named after it. More, than the one or other modern EdT, which is given a mysterious aura, which it usually does not have. Miracle, on the other hand, exudes an unspoken promise, creates the desire to dive deeper into an aura that lets us escape from everyday life, generates a kaleidoscope of dreams and makes us forget all the modern perfumes.

I'm having trouble classifying them. Not only because of course we don't have a pyramid anymore to climb along, but that's exactly what makes it attractive again. Once again it is almost impossible to put olfactory impressions into banal words. In simple terms, I would like to call Miracle an animal chypre. The scent seems dark to me, the flowers that have certainly been processed are not glittering white flowers, even if some nuances remind me of jasmine, I could suspect tuberose. Completely without sweetness, but infinitely soft it works on my skin. But even more impressive for me is the light that falls dimmed like through colorful church windows on the scenery that I have before my eyes. The fragrance does not shine, it glows and wraps itself in soft veils of animal notes, which spread silky on the skin and create a fluidity over many hours into which one would like to let oneself fall. This has nothing in common with animalistic perfumes of modern times, which on the other hand are aggressive and rather indecent or even offensive to me. This is probably due to the fact that no really animal fragrances can be used anymore. Here we don't block, here we paint with the finest nuances, we create an atmosphere that enchants.

What remains for me is the respect for a perfume that has lost none of its beauty over almost 100 years. Neither the top note has to be cut back, nor has silage or durability suffered. I am convinced that Miracle has lost none of the beauty that the unknown perfumer gave it and I am grateful that I was able to experience the fragrance. What magic... a miracle!

Do you know the situation at a class reunion, when you are confronted by someone you used to know well, you have had good times with him, you also find familiar facial expressions and language and yet you are still a stranger?

That's how I felt when I sprayed on the newest version of Cabochard. Yes, there is already known, and yet... it already wanted to spread the unfortunately so often experienced disappointment, if once again a fragrance classic reformulated to pretend as if he was the ancestor. Well well, the money is to be taken care of, you can use it now and then and consume it in such a way... but it's a shame.
But then in the course of the evening the ice breaks. Both at the class reunion and at the approach to an old-fashioned scent I end up in the stage of "Do you still know...?" And "How was that then..." etc. etc. The somewhat awkward time of reuniting, possibly even of false memories, is over and one digs into the treasure trove of experienced treasures one would not want to miss.

Those who would also like to devote themselves to the olfatkorian past should be warned. The top note of the new version is a bit flat and I already remembered the much tried concept of the "shadow of its self". But Cabochard (2019) doesn't deny his ancestors and I think Bernard Chant doesn't have to turn in his grave because his work was violated. On the contrary! A monument was erected to the fragrance. I do recognize that modern perfumers have done their bit, but now, after more than 10 hours on my skin, I still smell - of course, Cabochard as it loves and - unfortunately - not alive anymore. But it is clearly recognizable and so I can say: Hello, it really is you! Herb, stylish, elegant as ever, not a bit subject to today's fashion and therefore a great fragrance for someone who has kept his own style through all the olfactory folly.

Researches to various broom species have confused me first of all rather than enlightened me. Since I have never consciously seen broom here in the Alpine foothills, let alone smelled it, my impression of this shrub is limited to yellow-flowering landscapes that passed me on various train journeys. I have there the Eifel, the Rhine valley, but also the Swabian Alb in memory.

So if Ginestra from the house of Santa Maria Novella has the typical scent of the plant as its theme, then for me this is a pleasantly unsweet scent of flowers. Herb would be too drastic, but nothing reminds me with the perfume of the usual floral scents, which are currently pouring out the cornucopia of flora with orange blossom, tuberose, jasmine and similar messengers. There are also no citrus notes that promise us floral fresh scents with a pleasing top note, in order to bring out the musk, amber or vanilla leg after a floral intermezzo, especially in the base.

The mood of Ginestra is friendly throughout, maybe there is also Heliotrop in the game. At no time is the exotic desire to travel to the Caribbean or even the South Seas awakened to us. The fragrance also has no spectacular course. That may sound boring, but it's not a drawback for me. Not every fragrance has to tell me a story, sometimes I just like to perceive the mood of a landscape, the feeling of having arrived, or an imaginary smile. That is the case with Ginestra, at least for me, and with an amazingly long shelf life.

A comment on Santa Maria Novella: "The brand has long had an elitist image, characterised by the fact that, apart from the famous time-honoured shop in Florence, the fragrances were only available in selected perfumeries and at the point of sale and not via the Internet. I was surprised that at least in Munich a flagship store was opened and even more amazed I noticed that you can now order directly online via the company's website. Unfortunately, there are neither bottlings nor discovery sets to buy, but that may change as well. In any case, I am sure that one or the other fragrance will find its way into my collection.

Since Elie Saab poured a whole barrel of orange blossom concentrate over our heads with "Le Parfum", I have been at war with this note. This is also the reason why I can't really get warm with L'Heure de Nuit, if Thierry Wasser is also more careful with this fragrance. Among other things, it is noted that the fragrance is identical to L'Heure Bleue - Le Zenith, who in turn celebrates the anniversary of L'Heure Bleue. Apart from that, I've long resented Guerlain's new editions with a different name - just from the different editions that are all related or identical to Guet-Apens, I get dizzy. But that's just by the way.

When I try to hide this background, L`Heure de Nuit is actually a floral scent with no corners or edges. Flattering, tenderly powdery and more skilful in handling the notes than is the case with many an orange blossom scent. But that's it for me already and that's not enough anymore.

In my opinion, the comparison of L'Heure Bleue and L'Heure de Nuit is symptomatic of the comparison between the "old" guerilla scents and the Thierry water age. While L'Heure Bleue with the carnation and the violet develops a magically melancholic, rather dark and mysterious mood, L'Heure de Nuit with the omnipresent orange blossom is a flower dream for me, but for me has no recognition value. The scent is noble, Thierry Wasser knows his trade, but I wouldn't think of Guerlain first in a blind test and certainly not of nighttime romance.

Of course, it is difficult to try to build on a great legacy with a perfume. To grind down the inherited treasures but their peculiarities is not the right way for me.

God knows that a walk in the woods is good for body and soul, lets you breathe deeply, conveys serenity and enables you to get away from everyday life. But in our time everything must get as interesting and unusual a name as possible, so that the person overwhelmed with information deals with a topic, no matter how normal and long proven it is.

Recently I had to prune and then smile when I read that the rest you can get by walking in the green lungs of our cities is now called "forest bathing" and that today's authors find it necessary to write books about it and identify the trend as Japanese, because we matter-of-fact Europeans are apparently no longer able to get involved without guidance in the relaxing and strengthening atmosphere of the forest.

I don't want to claim that Alba di Seoul is, so to speak, the forest bath for your handbag, but the gentle scent of conifers tempts me to take a deep breath. In contrast to some other forest scents I don't have the feeling to spray resin stains on my clothes or to get into danger that around the next corner a forest gnome or the last unicorn comes. Alba di Seoul is much more subtle and gentle and does not remind me of Japanese gardens or pagodas, but rather of the light pine forests that let the sunlight shine down to the ground and in which the marsh gladiolas bloom near here at the moment. The woody notes don't convey the feeling of immediately absorbing a splinter, and the oriental scents actually represent the Far East rather than the Near East for me. The scent is soft, calm and cool, but without the chills that some green-fresh scents can give me. The clear theme of the fragrance is well illustrated on the packaging, because it shows the silhouette of a silhouette of a forest with silhouettes of silhouettes, where the light shimmers through the trunks of the trees

As with Citta di Kyoto, the Italian perfumers at Alba di Seoul have succeeded in combining Asian meditative flair and Mediterranean art of living in one fragrance.