UntermWert

The bitter-tart-cool, yet dust-dry prelude of galbanum, saffron and angelica root immediately transports us back to times gone by: an abandoned metal workshop with a wall-mounted telephone, the air a little still, the machines at a standstill, tools neatly lined up, metal cabinets with a hundred small screw drawers. On the workbench lies a wooden ruler darkened by the sun, next to it a red triangular pencil, roughly sharpened with a knife. Opposite, a blackboard, chalk, dusty sponge... countless sketches, plans and formulas for the apprentices. In the steel lockers hang the grey neatly ironed coats of the instructors, the yellow safety helmets and work goggles. Almost medically clear and tidy. Yet not sterile, but with the memory of metal saws, screeching lathes, soldering irons and machine oil (probably the birch tar in the base note) and wood. On the wall, sepia-toned group photos of colleagues and graduating seniors hang next to a large bulletin board of drawn lesson plans and notes in standard font.

The flowers in the heart note - especially the tuberose - hold back in a subdued way. Almost like the echo of the master's wife, dressed in Aromatics Elixir, strutting through the workshop a few hours ago... the click of shoes in the large workshop hall swallowed by the concrete floor.

As it progresses, styrax and woody notes discreetly come to the fore, allowing the scent to gently warm and draw closer.
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Nuit de Bakélite delivers what the name promises. It invites you to enter rooms of the past, industrialization, steam engines, cars with whitewall tires... immediately you're surrounded by black dial telephones and those thick-clunky rotary light switches (with the loud "click") on chalked walls. Naked light bulbs on the ceiling twinkle and flicker. A scent that tells stories instantly and immediately, yet surrounded by a subtle stillness. Initially cool-distant, monochrome, as it progresses more approachable, warmer, enveloping - perhaps sepia-toned.

Very impressive, very special.

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Another association could also be a nice black-and-white thriller with Blacky Fuchsberger or Heinz Drache - with total absence of animalism in this fragrance, however, Klaus Kinski does not play this time ;-)

(for me an immediate sibling scent to Baba Yaga)

Listed are very few fragrance components.
No idea what hay flowers smell like, it strikes me.
I think I perceive something Sulékó-typical.... No, I refuse to use the word DNA. I think it is, in both Baba Yaga and Djélem, the very interesting, almost spiky clove - in both fragrances supporting element, here softer, more delicate, a bit more feminine.
Like Baba Yaga, this fragrance also demands: although it has a very special lightness, it wants to be worn thoughtfully .... is not heavy or opulent, but still by no means fleeting or airy (and fortunately for me, not aquatic).

Djélem opens with something sweet and spicy. Fresh-cut hay on a hot summer day, is the official description.
Yes, but not only. In the periphery holds itself already at the beginning quietly the almost characteristic garden carnation. In addition, warm amber, as well as the accents of labdanum and vanilla, which give the spiciness of the clove a soft-harmonious frame. As it progresses, a dark, (and I quote) "mesmerizing" immortelle slowly joins in. In my research on this plant, I come across the wonderful word immortal. Yes, that's how it smells to me: dry yet sweetly fruity with tea and chamomile notes. Beautiful.
The fragrance is supposed to represent the wild and passionate spirit of the gypsy people, their dances around the fire - and is named after their hymn - Djélem. If you follow this campfire idea despite the absence of clearly woody-smoky notes, so the fragrance develops like a slowly moving away from the fire, at most with a fantasy of orientalism, to leave the next morning only a very gentle residual breath on the skin, songs and fiddles as the soundtrack of a dream.

In the context of a spontaneously initiated sample exchange with blind test, this extraordinary witch scent got under my nose. That it was even by name, so I did not know. (with many thanks to DufterMann)
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Mythologically, the Baba Yaga's occupation is very ambivalent. Sometimes she's antagonist, sometimes she's groundbreaking.... i take the liberty of briefly quoting Gold's statement here, which also very aptly sums up my fragrance experience: "She pushes me into the darkness, then shows me the way. She is a good spirit."

A bitter-tangy-spicy opening and a sniffing comment from Mr. UntermWert first lead me to assume that animalic notes were hidden in the fragrance... With later insight into the fragrance pyramid, I now suspect that the combination of bitter-citrus notes and pepper with the successively unfolding clove form a kind of red thread of the fragrance, which evoked a fantasy of "there's a cat hiding here somewhere".... plus the man's insistence on perceiving a slightly pungent ammonia note....
So not true at all, but gives the fragrance directly a certain depth, mysticism and closeness to nature, which immediately takes me for itself. On this basic motif, the other notes unfold, the fragrance becomes softer, delicate-smoky. The clove dominates the action, but the joining spices of the heart note soothe the cheeky prick, though they in no way evoke a gourmand fantasy of Christmas cookies. Latent dust-dry wood, leather and relatively light patchouli in the base make Baba Yaga seem light and floating...

The witch has me all wrapped up. Despite the lightness, it is also demanding. When I wear it should be well-considered, careless spraying on a day when you do not know what you want, she could take bad... it could be that she then passes me with a provocative look, pretends to have breathed a masculine incense scent into the environment and asks me taxingly: "well, do you really want me?" while I walk slow steps on dried patchouli herb... (so once happened)

The EdT isn't really any different from the EdP in terms of the actual scent - it's a bit more lightly floaty overall, less prickly and scratchy, very suitable for everyday use in my opinion. For the comprehensive "Baba Yaga Experience" I recommend but the EdP.
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About the brand: Sulékó is a collaboration between perfumer Cécile Zarokian and three porcelain sculpeurs, who have created 4 fragrance compositions inspired by Slavic art and culture, each dedicated to a season. The background story about the inspirational Russian perfumer Konstantin Weriguine reads exciting, the overall creation of fragrance and flacon with a lot of passion and depth.
Particularly appealing also the sustainable concept: there is one version each as a sculpture flacon and as a travel flacon (this is also extraordinarily beautiful and has an appealing porcelain head), both are refillable - and owns one of them, it is possible to order a refill.

Great overall concept with very intriguing scents.

Completely unplanned, a sample of my first ELDO came under my nose (many thanks at this point to Marella for this extraordinary addition)... I admit, I was very suspicious. My associations lie somewhere between the Tribute to Panem and the "All is Full of Love" video by Björk.

Vierges et Toreros opens synthetically fresh, slightly sweet with bergamot, nutmeg, pepper and cardamom. Fresh and beautiful, feathery and present, but somehow not of this time. It could be a scene perfume in the Capitol (The Tibute of Panem)... maybe even the signature scent of President Snow himself, because he is known to have always smelled of roses, while his breath in turn exuded the metallic aroma of blood...

The citrusy-clean spaceship freshness develops increasingly metallic. One is virtually breathed on by the President, while it rains futuristic flowers.

I further course, the fragrance remains extremely dry on me. Dusty-sweetish. I'm intrigued and can't stop wondering if I should find this pleasant or unpleasant now. I think it's kind of abstractly beautiful. And yes, it's the first scent from this brand that I actually wanted to find a priori doofy... But I have to admit, it's not just gimmicky marketing. The scent is captivating. Seems to me completely surreal-artfully composed. I have actually not yet smelled something like that.

In some other review, the subject of eroticism is taken up here, there is talk of Dalí paintings, of the olfactory implementation of the meeting of bullfighters and virgins... But I find the name of the fragrance strangely out of place. Because although animalic notes are listed in the fragrance pyramid, I can't exactly smell them out, and "dirty" doesn't smell this fragrance to me at all (I can't perceive leather either).

In the end, there is actually something like a skin accord (thanks to the statement of DeVulgares at this point, who brought me to it) - but also a futuristic. I do like skin scents... this one, however, strikes me as the dusty, dry, soft skin of an android.... Well, and as good science fiction FSK18 goes....
(MrUnderValue also pointed out a gum note)
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whether I like the fragrance, I can not say for the life of me. But I find him really in the positive sense "interesting" and well worth testing. I definitely recommend the review of Terra. It's a scent that conjures up images and isn't unwearable per se, even if it probably won't be mine. In the end, it's shadowy-unembodied beautiful.

So now I have an iris scent.
with iris in the name.
I didn't know I would like iris.
And I ignored this brand with the gold flakes because of the decadence and pricing per se.

......... until a sample came under my nose - as an addition in a souk (dear thanks at this point again to BleuDQ). First merely taken note of and left. Stands yes Iris in the name.
So what with flowers.
Not my Cup of tea.

And then something happens to me, immediately after I sprayed the fragrance listlessly on my wrist ....

Fairy dust descends upon me.

My, he's beautiful!
Beautiful.
I'm experiencing a medicinal sweetness that has been very appealing to me in perfumes lately. And although sweet, mixes here just a spiciness, which prevents the fragrance from drifting into a lush floral bouquet. On me, it is also rather not powdery, but dry. The patchouli herb is dry, not dusty. Gives the scent something dark and deep without becoming gloomy. Mysterious.
Like a Kate Bush song, where light and shadow sound together.... like a siren....
I'm just carried away.

Iris Fauve could be a lot of things I don't like or am not looking for at the moment - a fierce floral, dark-cold-earthy patchouli, tuffy clean musk.... instead, I find unspeakably noble and artfully coordinated spices, none pushing to the fore - and iris and patchouli taking me into their midst. Beautifully hypnotic-spicy, yet not too lush or heavy. It's almost as if a new, mysterious spice emerges from both, beguiling and captivating me.

I was lucky enough to grab a "started" bottle in the souk.
There it is now.
With its gold flakes.
And yes! It is really beautiful!
Like the fragrance.
With the iris in its name.

So everything I wasn't really looking for.

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Iris Fauve reminds me of Under My Skin with its subtle seductiveness, although superficially the two don't have that much to do with each other now.... (if there were not a subtle animalism).