Verbena

First exit: bee sting. The eastern one at that time with grated coconut, almond and lemon flavor. However, there is no coconut to be found anywhere in the pyramid. Perhaps memory is playing a loving trick on me here.

Citrusy, vanilla, cakey, sweet and spicy, gourmand, with a hint of cinnamony baked apple slipping through, delicious if you like that smell. I can't smell any hay or greenery. No flowers either. Bad luck perhaps for the hungry rabbit, apart from the creamy, fluffy vibes. For me, it's just warm cake pulled straight out of Aunt Grete's oven. The brat in me licks its greedy lips with glee.

After all, nostalgic childhood images for me. Zoologist shoots himself into a contemporary hug. We seem to need it... and yes, there's something almost eerily homely about it. I probably wouldn't wear it, but it inevitably makes me smile. And I want to honor that.

Thank you @Netti77 for the reliable sharing organization and to Aunt Grete for the best cake in the world.

Is everyone a narcissist? Garlanded with spring-like golden flowers, entwined with herb-green tendrils? A citrusy wink in a flirtatious gaze? Give me kissable sweetness! Turn around in the mirror! There is so much beauty. At the beginning. I want you... for now.

An adventure, perhaps. It could be anyone. But it's the daffodil. Once again, it has an easy time with me. Herbaceous green and moist, with an almost sticky powdery underpinning, yet ultimately powerfully fresh and April-rain-like, it somehow always knows what it's doing. Why does it give up so quickly? Patch and sultry spice bring a change of weather and a moderately dark sweetness into play... a game that I might like better if the kissable mouth didn't tend to pout at some point. And thus wilt. Oh, you mimosa! You'll get your golden moment too. Be content and don't cry! Kiss me instead! Finally, the unruly haze clears for a moment and the wind blows a woody, grounded, fresh and peppery chord around the mirror, ironing a wrinkle or two from Dorian's face. The sweetness gives way to a smiling mildness.

There you go, it's an ensemble. With a few discords. They're just still tuning the instruments. And I already like them all as players, for and against each other... yes really... for now... not forever.

Will we meet again, handsome?

There are so many notes of wood, rhubarb and Far Eastern citrus pepper. Truffled popcorn? It should be dancing around somewhere in the loud hustle and bustle at the beginning, but my trunk can't find it. But I love popcorn. And truffles too. Maybe I've caught a whiff of a tiny grain of cereal. I'm not sure.

Something slightly sweet and milky vanilla meanders through the middle, perhaps heliotrope gold has been thrown into the scrambling crowd. You can safely pick it up, it doesn't do anything bad and lifts the mood enormously. I almost stumble over a tiny mound of earth. I wonder if the truffles are hiding here? Otherwise, the stable ground remains strangely sour, dull, musty and powdery and, despite all the spice, somehow colorless and disgusted.

Some voices enthusiastically called art into the olfactory space. I'm happy to give that a nod and am delighted when others find the appropriate approach here. Perhaps I am simply more inclined towards harmony when it comes to fragrances. The experiment was appealing here. You can mix the wildest ingredients together and find your absolute aha experience... or not. May the next tester be more successful.

Flash doesn't wow me, it's simply too dissonant as a fragrance, but it's quite interesting to sniff. For me, the emperor is naked except for his underpants, but you don't see an almost naked emperor every day. So you should definitely treat yourself to the fun. And I definitely had it.

Many thanks to DonVanVliet for the test fabric and the weird fragrance trip... it's always on here. :)

It is milled and scrubbed. So far so good. Washing powder? Fabric softener? Shampoo? In any case, it's all floral and something with the sea and pale sun on top. A dollop of fruit-something forked underneath. The dream of a flawlessly fluffed civilization?

Ergoproxy says cleaning agent. Some kind of household chemical, anyway. Not my cup of citrus. And I wish the ocean was at least from Kitsch-Kinkade and thus somehow visually tangible. The bergamot is rather disappointingly lame, as it is only a fake. As if she can't quite smell herself, the lost loser. Somehow I feel for her and would like to offer her my consolation and guidance.

But alas, the rest of the way is just clean musky flowery wasteland freshness. I wish it would somehow moss in the synth-green, as the pyramid promises.

Crapped on. I chicken out and leave with a guilty conscience. Menno, I love bergamot...

Thank you @Yatagan for the testing opportunity. How different noses sometimes sniff..