Waterboy
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Devotion & temptation
1499 is not a fragrance for a quick impression, per se. Although it is actually immediately appealing, it doesn't try to categorize itself or explain anything. It unfolds quietly, almost reservedly, creating an atmosphere that is somewhere between sensual and enraptured. Those who engage with it are not rewarded with a clear fragrance message, but with a multi-layered, almost meditative experience in which light and dark, closeness and distance are in balance.
An exceptionally beautifully crafted myrrh plays the secret leading role for me - warm, balsamic, slightly smoky. This myrrh gives the fragrance its spiritual, almost sacred feel. It radiates calm, depth, a feeling of grounded sensuality. I think I can sense that patchouli is also involved here, as a velvety background that gives the composition an earthy foundation and lends it just the right amount of gravitas it needs to avoid drifting into the ethereal.
At the center, however, is jasmine sambac. But not in its usual floral, romantic guise. Its typical honey-like sweetness shines through, but the floral-white opulence is skillfully concealed. What remains is a powdery, almost leathery sensuality with a slightly animalistic edge. This quality is reminiscent of what natural jasmine brings with it when it is combined with warm, earthy or spicy notes. In 1499, this creates something slightly forbidden - not loud or dirty, but subtle and dangerously beautiful. It's that hint of animalism that lurks in the background and gives the fragrance this attractive depth that I can't quite grasp.
Also interesting is a fleeting solvent note that appears shortly after spraying as the fragrance slowly settles. A moment of coolness, almost sterile, like a fresh lacquer film on leather. It takes away the opulence of the fragrance, which I like. It makes it more airy for a moment and creates space between the dense accords. This brief phase is reminiscent of waxed leather or a freshly waterproofed jacket.
1499 is sensual, mystical, spiritual. A fragrance that aims to please, despite its unconventional nature. And it achieves this. There is a quiet power in its composition, a flicker between dapper and indecent, between physicality and transcendence. It is rich without weighing you down, animalistic without being heavy-handed, floral without ever drifting into cliché.
A fragrance for those who seek depth. And are prepared to embrace the ambiguous.
An exceptionally beautifully crafted myrrh plays the secret leading role for me - warm, balsamic, slightly smoky. This myrrh gives the fragrance its spiritual, almost sacred feel. It radiates calm, depth, a feeling of grounded sensuality. I think I can sense that patchouli is also involved here, as a velvety background that gives the composition an earthy foundation and lends it just the right amount of gravitas it needs to avoid drifting into the ethereal.
At the center, however, is jasmine sambac. But not in its usual floral, romantic guise. Its typical honey-like sweetness shines through, but the floral-white opulence is skillfully concealed. What remains is a powdery, almost leathery sensuality with a slightly animalistic edge. This quality is reminiscent of what natural jasmine brings with it when it is combined with warm, earthy or spicy notes. In 1499, this creates something slightly forbidden - not loud or dirty, but subtle and dangerously beautiful. It's that hint of animalism that lurks in the background and gives the fragrance this attractive depth that I can't quite grasp.
Also interesting is a fleeting solvent note that appears shortly after spraying as the fragrance slowly settles. A moment of coolness, almost sterile, like a fresh lacquer film on leather. It takes away the opulence of the fragrance, which I like. It makes it more airy for a moment and creates space between the dense accords. This brief phase is reminiscent of waxed leather or a freshly waterproofed jacket.
1499 is sensual, mystical, spiritual. A fragrance that aims to please, despite its unconventional nature. And it achieves this. There is a quiet power in its composition, a flicker between dapper and indecent, between physicality and transcendence. It is rich without weighing you down, animalistic without being heavy-handed, floral without ever drifting into cliché.
A fragrance for those who seek depth. And are prepared to embrace the ambiguous.
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A treasure that doesn't fit into any drawer
Anyone who has tested the fragrances from Humięcki & Graef will immediately recognize that Christophe Laudamiel was able to fully live out his creative freedom with this project - and this is also evident in "Skarb". It is a perfume that is thoughtfully conceived and complex in its olfactory structure. You experience something that is described as a star-shaped structure. The notes appear like individual peaks. Instead of a linear progression, they unfold in layers, sometimes appearing in isolation, then uniting again to form a harmonious overall picture.
For me, lovage is incorporated rather subtly. Although it is a prominent note in the composition, I never find it distracting or too prominent. Instead, it blends harmoniously into the overall composition and lends the fragrance a herbal freshness that is never too aggressive or overpowering. Frankincense and myrrh lend the fragrance depth and a certain heaviness. Chamomile brings a subtle warmth and calming effect to the fragrance. For me, it brings back memories of childhood, of days when you were sick in bed and lovingly cared for.
The atmosphere created by this fragrance is special. It envelops the person wearing it like an invisible aura - sensual, avant-garde and mysterious. It seems to fit well in Berlin. Perhaps because it was the first time I heard it there, but perhaps also because it perfectly captures the urban melancholy and creative energy of this city. You can't simply pigeonhole "Skarb"; it doesn't fit into the usual categories. And that is precisely its strength.
I find it interesting how the fragrance can vary depending on my mood and mood of the day. Sometimes I perceive the frankincense more strongly, sometimes the myrrh, sometimes the calming camomile and the next moment it is simply an enveloping fragrance that cannot be pinned down. This flexibility in perception shows how complex Skarb actually is. You could almost say that the fragrance changes with you - as if it reflects your own inner state.
According to the brand, "Skarb" embodies the deep Slavic soul and melancholy. This concept runs like a red thread through the entire fragrance. However, the melancholy and thoughtfulness it conveys do not come across as oppressive or heavy, as I found with "Méchant Loup" by L'Artisan Parfumeur, for example. Instead, "Skarb" unfolds a warmth and intimacy that is both comforting and elegant.
Note or warning: The durability is enormous. It remains on clothing and bed linen for days. Only a shower can wash it off the skin, but even that takes time. A fragrance that remains present but never becomes overpowering.
Overall, "Skarb" is a perfume that is experienced, not simply worn. It is unique, unconventional and hard to pin down. For me, a real rarity in the perfume world. A treasure, as its name promises in Polish - and that's exactly what it is for me.
For me, lovage is incorporated rather subtly. Although it is a prominent note in the composition, I never find it distracting or too prominent. Instead, it blends harmoniously into the overall composition and lends the fragrance a herbal freshness that is never too aggressive or overpowering. Frankincense and myrrh lend the fragrance depth and a certain heaviness. Chamomile brings a subtle warmth and calming effect to the fragrance. For me, it brings back memories of childhood, of days when you were sick in bed and lovingly cared for.
The atmosphere created by this fragrance is special. It envelops the person wearing it like an invisible aura - sensual, avant-garde and mysterious. It seems to fit well in Berlin. Perhaps because it was the first time I heard it there, but perhaps also because it perfectly captures the urban melancholy and creative energy of this city. You can't simply pigeonhole "Skarb"; it doesn't fit into the usual categories. And that is precisely its strength.
I find it interesting how the fragrance can vary depending on my mood and mood of the day. Sometimes I perceive the frankincense more strongly, sometimes the myrrh, sometimes the calming camomile and the next moment it is simply an enveloping fragrance that cannot be pinned down. This flexibility in perception shows how complex Skarb actually is. You could almost say that the fragrance changes with you - as if it reflects your own inner state.
According to the brand, "Skarb" embodies the deep Slavic soul and melancholy. This concept runs like a red thread through the entire fragrance. However, the melancholy and thoughtfulness it conveys do not come across as oppressive or heavy, as I found with "Méchant Loup" by L'Artisan Parfumeur, for example. Instead, "Skarb" unfolds a warmth and intimacy that is both comforting and elegant.
Note or warning: The durability is enormous. It remains on clothing and bed linen for days. Only a shower can wash it off the skin, but even that takes time. A fragrance that remains present but never becomes overpowering.
Overall, "Skarb" is a perfume that is experienced, not simply worn. It is unique, unconventional and hard to pin down. For me, a real rarity in the perfume world. A treasure, as its name promises in Polish - and that's exactly what it is for me.
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A game of hide-and-seek or revealing your own forbidden secrets?
When Christophe Laudamiel has his fingers in the pie, you know that a fragrance is not just a fragrance, but a journey that makes you oscillate between fascination and irritation. Carré Blanc by The Zoo is just that: an olfactory puzzle that cannot be deciphered in a single wear. It is an olfactory adventure that leaves plenty of room for interpretation and emotion. The product description on The Zoo's website already indicates that this fragrance is more than just a perfume - it is a statement.
From the first application of Carré Blanc, a hint of freshly broken green streams into the nose - lively, tart, almost like damp leaves whirled up by the wind. Grapefruit and rhubarb provide a citrusy sharpness that is, however, supported by a subtle bitterness. At first nosing, this can be perceived as sweaty. But before you get used to this "freshness", the warm, earthy notes come into play: light wood and hay that blow like a gentle breeze over a late summer field. This is where the magic of the fragrance is revealed - a constant back and forth between clarity and warmth, between tension and security. A harmonious contrast.
The base of Carré Blanc is a chapter in itself. Ambroxan - and please don't worry, this is not the well-known "ambroxan club" that clouds the senses. Instead, the fragrance reveals its human, warmer side: soft, creamy and powdery, almost like an embracing warmth. The tonka bean adds a subtle sweetness that never drifts into kitsch, but rounds off the fragrance in a sophisticated way. Carré Blanc then radiates a softness that almost feels cuddly, but only almost.
Laudamiel's recommendation to spray the fragrance on clothing the day before proves to be spot on and more digestible. On the second day, Carré Blanc unfolds its full effect - an ambient base, familiar, physical and quite sexy. The fragrance stays in the room, stays on your clothes, stays in your memory.
It is also interesting to note that this fragrance should not be worn in places where you sit too close to strangers. Carré Blanc is not a silent companion, it is intense and could be a challenge for some. It is not a fragrance that blends into the background. It demands space, but in a subtle and elegant way. And yes, it polarizes. For those who don't get on with striking and innovative fragrances, it might be too much of a good thing. But for lovers of the extraordinary, it is a revelation.
Carré Blanc challenges you and at the same time offers a pleasant familiarity. It is a fragrance for those who appreciate ambroxan in its most intimate form, paired with powdery, woody and green notes. It invites you to smell it again and again, as its uniqueness is not only exciting, but almost hypnotizing. Not mainstream, not a crowd pleaser - but definitely an experience.
From the first application of Carré Blanc, a hint of freshly broken green streams into the nose - lively, tart, almost like damp leaves whirled up by the wind. Grapefruit and rhubarb provide a citrusy sharpness that is, however, supported by a subtle bitterness. At first nosing, this can be perceived as sweaty. But before you get used to this "freshness", the warm, earthy notes come into play: light wood and hay that blow like a gentle breeze over a late summer field. This is where the magic of the fragrance is revealed - a constant back and forth between clarity and warmth, between tension and security. A harmonious contrast.
The base of Carré Blanc is a chapter in itself. Ambroxan - and please don't worry, this is not the well-known "ambroxan club" that clouds the senses. Instead, the fragrance reveals its human, warmer side: soft, creamy and powdery, almost like an embracing warmth. The tonka bean adds a subtle sweetness that never drifts into kitsch, but rounds off the fragrance in a sophisticated way. Carré Blanc then radiates a softness that almost feels cuddly, but only almost.
Laudamiel's recommendation to spray the fragrance on clothing the day before proves to be spot on and more digestible. On the second day, Carré Blanc unfolds its full effect - an ambient base, familiar, physical and quite sexy. The fragrance stays in the room, stays on your clothes, stays in your memory.
It is also interesting to note that this fragrance should not be worn in places where you sit too close to strangers. Carré Blanc is not a silent companion, it is intense and could be a challenge for some. It is not a fragrance that blends into the background. It demands space, but in a subtle and elegant way. And yes, it polarizes. For those who don't get on with striking and innovative fragrances, it might be too much of a good thing. But for lovers of the extraordinary, it is a revelation.
Carré Blanc challenges you and at the same time offers a pleasant familiarity. It is a fragrance for those who appreciate ambroxan in its most intimate form, paired with powdery, woody and green notes. It invites you to smell it again and again, as its uniqueness is not only exciting, but almost hypnotizing. Not mainstream, not a crowd pleaser - but definitely an experience.
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