Yatagan

First of all, I'm well aware that I'm probably driving in the wrong lane here: once again in the wrong lane. This may also have something to do with the expectations of many lovers of Francesca Bianchi's fragrances: most creations are resinous, animalic, spicy and leathery, some powdery, but so far not aquatic or artificially synthetic. The Mariner's Rhyme | Francesca Bianchi" changes this fundamentally. The new FB could come from Christophe Laudamiel, who likes to provoke, compose loud and garish, innovative and edgy synthetic fragrances. I strongly recommend his compositions for unbiased testing.

for me, "The Mariner's Rhyme | Francesca Bianchi" is initially a powdery, dry iris fragrance and thus sets a counterpoint right at the beginning to the aquatic synthetic siren that follows shortly afterwards, which is composed of classic aldehydes and postmodern ozonic notes (again, an obviously deliberate contrast). This unconventionally shrill tone is heightened by the hersperidic, consistently acidic accents of bergamot and grapefruit. The incense mentioned above is not sacred, but rather very bright, sparkling, almost diffuse, which brings us full circle to the dry iris at the beginning of the fragrance's development.

As with the Laudamiel fragrances mentioned above, it seems to me that the decisive factor for acceptance is the restrained dosage. I applied a tiny spray to the back of my hand this morning and the fragrance has stayed with me all day: contrary to most previous reviews, the longevity and projection is enormous.

If you combine my impressions described above, the result is indeed a very artificial impression of plastic, sunscreen and chlorinated water (I can well understand Ergreifend's association with the rubber boat - and cognitively also the resulting rejection, but I myself am affectively reached by the fragrance).

Anyone who appreciates fragrances in the style of The Zoo, Humięcki & Graef or Comme des Garçons should give it a try and then correct my impression anyway. I've survived here long enough as a ghost driver.

Uncommented fragrance no. 180

Tilia is the Latin name for lime tree and thus lays a trail that could lead a little astray, but like Ariadne's thread can point the way out of the labyrinth. Initially, I find heliotrope more dominant, which has a very characteristic scent and, in my opinion, always exudes a somewhat frosted, unconventionally creamy powderiness. Broom also seems plausible to me and under this framework, lime blossom is also recognizable, albeit less strong and characteristic than in "Lindenblüte | Parfum-Individual Harry Lehmann" or "Tilleul (1995) | d'Orsay" and other comparably intense lime blossom perfumes, which I appreciate, but which sometimes exude such a painful sweetness that they seem like melancholy memories. Here, it has been handled with style and sophistication and the composition fits together, seems as if it has been cast from a single mold, and perhaps the above-mentioned jasmine and vetiver are also part of this harmonious overall impression, even if I can only imagine them at best.

Incidentally, this fragrance also shows how synthetic and almost inflationarily used fragrances such as Amboxan can be incorporated well: everything seems a bit like strongly scented skin cream - and that is not bold, but even a bit sexy.

Following on from this thought, I would like to emphasize that the fragrance is very feminine in my opinion, which does not exclude the possibility that men should wear it, possibly especially those with a masculine aura, in order to bring out their feminine shadow (psychoanalytically speaking).

Incidentally, the fragrance has a disadvantage that many here might see as an advantage: It has tremendous charisma in terms of sillage and longevity; too much of a good thing for me, as I appreciate lighter, more subtle fragrances. One spray lasted me the whole afternoon and evening. Nevertheless: another great achievement by Barrois - very much in the style of "Ganymede (Eau de Parfum) | Marc-Antoine Barrois", which smells completely different, but combines synthetics and classic composition just as well.

Unannotated fragrances No. 179

Ultravox, Visage, Duran Duran, The Human League... doesn't mean anything to you? Then you're probably under 50 and the New Romantics music genre is just a Taylor Swift song from 2014 to you. Check Wikipedia, they still know that.
Suppose you knew the music behind the bands mentioned above, and suppose you came up with the idea of creating a fragrance called New Romantics - similar to how LUSH came up with this idea and then advertised it with a clear reference to the 80s: Would you use lemon, davana and allspice then? That's a rhetorical question! Because they wouldn't!

The early 80s and the New Romantic trend of the time, which visually represented a mixture of punk, glam rock, gothic and wave and was influenced by David Bowie and Roxy Music, a powerhouse fragrance from the same period such as "Kouros (Eau de Toilette) | Yves Saint Laurent" , "Antaeus (Eau de Toilette) | Chanel" , "Giorgio (Eau de Toilette) | Giorgio Beverly Hills" , "Must de Cartier (Eau de Toilette) | Cartier".

Now LUSH has opted for (1.) lemon, (2.) davana and (3.) allspice. That's exactly what it smells like (and you have to know Davana in particular and if you don't know it: you can buy it as an oil in a health food store; green, herbal, hardly fruity, maybe a little sweet like dried fruit) and these are pretty much the three least romantic scents that you and I know, even though I like all three and would like to imagine them in a fragrance. But since there's nothing else in it, it's pretty sparse, and I don't think it smells like New Romantics, David Bowie, Midge Ure, Roger Taylor or Phil Oakey (they can all google it now).

Unannotated fragrances No. 178

The so-called New Look describes a new style in women's fashion in the 1950s, which was figure-hugging and feminine and was presented by Christian Dior from spring 1947. Wiki knows everything else better.

As Dior was revolutionizing women's fashion at the time, this was a particularly prestigious concept for Dior, and special care was to be expected in its olfactory implementation. Now Francis Kurkdjian is certainly someone who could do it, but he is more known for artificial fragrances, both in the heavy fragrances such as "Baccarat Rouge 540 (Eau de Parfum) | Maison Francis Kurkdjian" and in the light colognes such as "Gentle fluidity (Silver) | Maison Francis Kurkdjian". Almost all fragrances are characterized by a thoroughly artistically ambitious synthetic quality: artificial fragrances.

This also applies to the new "New Look | Dior". In my opinion, the result is sobering: aldehydes are at the heart of the composition, which I do appreciate when they are well integrated, for example in floral, amber or oriental compositions. Here, however, the combination with frankincense, which is not heavy and sacred, but bright, silvery and ethereal and underlines the artificially sparkling effect of the aldehydes, ensures that the New Look becomes a synthetic look. I miss the flesh, the base, the foundation, the color: the fragrance seems - synesthetically speaking - gray, white, silver, cold in the true sense of the word, quite different from Dior's New Look. Of course, you can like that. I can't appreciate it.

I wonder what Christian would have said about it?

Caution: Only read on if you can handle irony!

You should definitely not wear this fragrance on New Year's Eve because it doesn't cost much and what's cheap can't be worth anything after all, so the stuff certainly won't impress your friends! What's more, it doesn't go with your new SUV and that would be the least you could do!

You should definitely not wear this fragrance on New Year's Eve because the bottle looks so terribly cheap - not even a little retro - and your girlfriend will definitely not like it: It doesn't go with her new Gucci fumble and if you put it in her bathroom, she'll kick you out before the New Year's Eve party in the worst case scenario.

You should definitely not wear this fragrance on New Year's Eve because it doesn't smell of green apple, synthetic oud and saffron and you'll immediately attract the attention of your new friends: that's no way to maintain your corporate identity in a luxury club!

You should definitely not wear this fragrance on New Year's Eve because it lasts less than 6 hours and you would have to use up a whole bottle to keep up with your friends' latest scents. After midnight at the latest, you will smell like NOTHING.

You should definitely not wear this fragrance on New Year's Eve, because the sillage would only be noticed by your neighbors, but you want to scent the whole club. By now at the latest, the decision has been made anyway.

You CAN wear this fragrance if you want to give preference to an old classic, have already worn "Pour Un Homme de Caron (1934) (Eau de Toilette) | Caron", "Pour Monsieur (Eau de Toilette) / A Gentleman's Cologne / For Men | Chanel", "Eau Sauvage (Eau de Toilette) | Dior" and similar inconspicuous old fragrances in recent years and no longer know what else would come into question. Maybe that wouldn't even be a bad choice: creaky, spicy and woody fougère fragrances are supposed to be back in fashion soon - and maybe you'll be the first to notice this new trend and can post it on Instagram.

I wish all classic fans, niche fragrance wearers, mainstream lovers and drugstore connoisseurs as well as all the other lovely people on Parfumo a wonderful Old Year's Eve and a happy and healthy 2024!

Your Yatagan