Vanita

I had blind-tested this fragrance here; the L’Artisan bottles always tempt me, although the scents almost never truly match my taste, unfortunately.
Rose Privèe is beautifully packaged, the box is elegant and opens from the side, and the rosy bottle awakens the girl in me, which is quite rare.

The scent itself initially disappointed me a bit. The first spray reminded me somewhat of TA'IF by Ormonde Jayne, peppery-spicy, but here initially combined with a clean-creamy note. Later, I only detected a subtle-spicy musk, very nice, but rather weak and close to the skin.

The second test with a few more sprays then brought me the rose, somewhat fruity, delicate, and beautiful. The impression of spicy musk remained and ultimately became lasting.
I can hardly distinguish patchouli here; it likely serves to stabilize the delicate scent.
Rose Privèe remains softly bitter, there is no sweetness here, but it envelops you like a translucent earth to old-rose colored chiffon cloth.

For me, it belongs to no particular season; it seems to fit always. Definitely suitable for the office, as it is subtle. The sillage is, I believe, quite close to the skin - various female colleagues will have to help with a test. You probably can't overdo it. The longevity seems good; sprayed in the morning, I can still perceive it lightly in the evening.

I am still not sure if it can stay. I am fascinated that it still feels a bit foreign to me. It flatters my sense of smell, but somehow I miss an edge, a corner... it remains exciting.

I have to say or rather write something about this scent, which is actually rather unspectacular for me.
I became aware of it in my former regular forum through a very enthusiastic fellow writer who mentioned it repeatedly.
Last summer, I sniffed it and bought it almost in one go. And this little everyday scent outshines all my more expensive niche fragrances by far when it comes to positive comments, whether it's when I walk out of an office door and a patient walks in, surprised, sniffing and telling the secretary that it smells wonderful, or the delighted breaths from colleagues/acquaintances.

As for the scent itself - I can pick out all the notes listed here. A small hint of amber adds to it; it doesn't quite fit with a fresh scent, but somehow makes it interesting. Fresh, fruity, floral, and then a very light dark amber note in the background. This might slightly enhance its longevity.

It's primarily a young-girl scent, but it doesn't matter... anyone can really wear it.

For me, it's an absolute warm-weather scent, lively and cheerful, without being trivial.
Very nice.

I first sniffed El Born in Hamburg. The hint that this scent had smelled totally interesting on a colleague stuck with me. I found it pleasant during the first test, slightly sweet and also special. It then brewed in me for a week until I ordered it.

My relationship with El Born was then ambivalent, because on one hand I liked its delicate sweetness with a hint of spice, almonds, and honey, on the other hand there is a plastic note (hard rubber has also been mentioned here), which, while not unpleasant, could be foreign to other noses. My son then remarked while having sushi that it smelled good but also slightly sulfurous. Oh dear - I don’t want to smell like sulfur. It may be that hell is waiting for me, but smelling like that already didn’t seem appealing to me.
So I wanted to pass it on.

In the meantime, my reservations have shrunk. To practically zero. My love grew more and more after the first little flash of excitement. With every spray, so to speak.
I used to wonder about a comment that described a scent as "intimate." Through El Born, this term has come closer to me, because that’s how it is for me now. It feels close, like a skin scent. Do you know that feeling when a scent seems "familiar," almost like it belongs to you? Tardes from the same company, for example, feels foreign to me, without any judgment.

With El Born, I smell a light sweetness, not directly powdery, but muted. In contrast to Tardes, the ball is kept flat here. There’s vanilla and honey, roasted almond and cocoa. The ingredient list is long, but I can clearly smell these treats, although the cocoa note probably comes more from benzoin.
This scent veil remains as it is, doesn’t develop significantly and lasts easily until the next day. It is delicate, but it clings on and thus appears strong to me again.

Currently, I prefer it at home, where the word "intimate" comes into play again. I think of cool days and evenings. After one has "fought" outside, the cave offers protection and security, all in twilight. Warmth and relaxation. Recharging for the next day.

Unisex, but for me, it feels more feminine.

Of course, El Born is allowed to stay. Love at the 1st and 3rd glance.

Now I finally have the sample of Dudù in front of me. I immediately placed a spray on my stomach, pressed my wrists to it, and dabbed them on my neck. One of the previous reviewers here mentioned that one should be cautious with the dosage. A wise piece of advice, thank you. It probably saves me from having to sacrifice my dinner right away.

The first impression is sweet, spicy-fruity, rich, and the first word that comes to mind is: “Delicious.”
But now, after just 5 minutes, I notice that I am gradually feeling nauseous. As already noted here, Dudu is strong, sweet, cloying. This dense spicy-sweet fruitiness seems overwhelming, sticky, almost tuberose-buttery. That must be the Frangipani, which I have never smelled in such a concentration before. Interesting, educational experience, but still: I miss something lighter, fresher to balance this scent out so I can wear it.

It feels as if I have indulged too much in an incredibly delicious buttercream cake out of sheer hunger/desire. Even after 2 hours, this feeling doesn’t change.

Maybe the impression is different in sub-zero temperatures. Perhaps Dudù warms and protects with its opulence in nasty weather.
I think I’ll dare to approach this scent monster again - when it’s freezing cold.... and on an empty stomach.

For 2 days, the envelope with the samples from Les Parfums de Soleil has been with me, and I thought about which of the 5 I should describe. I didn't burst into cheers during any of the tests, but a promise is a promise... well then...

Les matins bleus d'Agadir starts off a bit beastly-bitter-herbaceous; I almost had the impression that it had gone a bit off. However, the little beast calms down very quickly, and many little herbs come to the fore - a real little herb garden unfolds. I can only faintly smell lemon at first, and eventually, it completely evaporates. Mint is always part of the mix, but not fresh-ethereal, rather just as an aroma contributor.
The nice floral duet of jasmine and rose adds a delicate touch, making the fragrance more wearable. At first, I thought of a scent from Hermes, but it’s not that bold here; there’s nothing directly refreshing, rather it’s herbaceous-soft without any sweetness and with low sillage. I would classify it as unisex.

It is certainly wearable, but I know fragrances in this direction that I like more, so I’m spared the hunt.