Zielperson

I was a bit worried when I added Vanille de Tahiti to my online shopping cart.

What I was actually looking for was Ylang Ylang Nosy Be. The sample I received recently with an order was truly convincing. I didn't know much else about the Perris Monte Carlo label. While browsing the shop, my gaze inadvertently fell on Vanille de Tahiti. Wow, I've been searching for a natural vanilla scent that isn't gourmand or praline-like for a while. I could just order that as well. A sample would be nice right now. It's all a bit tricky to decide on instinct. What does Parfumo say? Comparatively little at first. Holy Mother of God, what is this?? Pure horror seized me: the highest-rated review describes very, very disturbing things. Newer reviews are rather the opposite. And the statements mentally transport me, unfortunately, exactly to the place where I don't want to be right now. Namely, to the countryside with animals and stench and other fertilizer associations. No friends, I’ll stick to the fragrant, I’ll stay with Nosy Be. That’s the most sensible choice.

The slender black and gold bottle comes in a cardboard box that is not shrink-wrapped. Instead, both flaps are secured with a tamper-proof security seal that cannot be removed in one piece and thus cannot be discreetly reapplied. I lift off the golden cap and spray 2 spritzes onto my wrist. I hold my outstretched arm against the light. The skin at the spray point looks as if it has been generously rubbed with baby oil. Silky matte shine. I bring my hand closer to my nose: oh, a kind of spicy flower with vanilla. Not a floral bouquet as one might imagine from violets, lilacs, freesias, etc. It’s a type of flower with spice, like one finds in clover flowers or dandelions or daisies. This kind of plant spice is also known from orchid flowers or (very extreme) from rapeseed flowers. Here, it’s a type of magnolia as well as ylang-ylang. And it pairs wonderfully with the naturally slightly sweet vanilla because it contrasts beautifully and draws attention to a counterpoint.
After about two hours, the Tahiti vanilla begins to unfold its full power. The floral aspect has faded. Now it stands alone in the spotlight: multifaceted, delicate, not woody, more powdery than floral, dense - but not overwhelming, absolutely unisex. And very natural. In the drydown, the scent takes another small turn. A dry sandalwood joins the enchanting vanilla. The noble wood evokes associations with a material that has completely dried out in the desert sun, whose essence could finally be extracted, now undiluted by anything. The amber then revives the wood with its wonderful creaminess. This vanilla-wood-amber trio at the end is perfectly balanced and a true poem. All ingredients are obviously of exceptionally high quality. I consciously do not perceive any musk. After about 7 hours, one would need to reapply.

Against all reason, I ended up buying Vanille de Tahiti after all. I was a bit afraid that the perfume house Perris might produce more for eccentrics. Well, with those reviews? Who wants to be olfactorily catapulted to the other end of the spectrum when dealing with pleasant scents? Not me. A fragrance should never have anything to do with decomposition or breakdown processes. That all belongs in the sewage treatment plant and not on Parfumo. And who would then cheekily call such a "scent" "Vanille de Tahiti"? That doesn’t fit together at all. The Ylang Ylang Nosy Be actually shows me exemplarily where Perris is headed. Perhaps the batch of those who documented their honest horror here on Parfumo for posterity was spoiled? Or a raw material contaminated? Surely, Perris's quality control would have noticed that. All very creepy.

I bought the scent blind because I concluded that this must be a very blatant example of different scent processing in the nervous system. Which review is right now? Which one is the correct one? All of them! That tastes differ is old news here on Parfumo. However, I have never experienced it this extreme. Of course, this blind purchase was unreasonable. Without a sample, I could only guess where I stand myself. To be precise, I couldn’t say anything at all. Just hope. Unfortunately, one has no clarity about what nature has given them until they dare to test it. You can’t send someone else in your place. In this process of realization, one is just as alone as the vanilla in the middle of "Vanille de Tahiti." The only limit to this exploration of one's own configuration is when others are harmed and cannot protect themselves. In such feedback situations, self-realization must stop immediately. Then it’s time to stop living freely. Then one has to refrain, even if it’s difficult, and must continue in a kind of blur with oneself. Or one discovers alternative paths. However, these barriers were not to be considered on my way to the vanilla scent. The only conceivable victim would have been myself, by paying a hefty tuition fee. But now I’m doubly happy: we are many here, but at the same time, we are all so united and also so obviously different. Parfumo is a great help in gathering first impressions in unknown scent terrain. The step into reality, whether through a perfumery, decanting, or a blind purchase, is something everyone must take themselves. Each of us must do it with all the necessary courage. And then report back, when time hopefully allows, to everyone else from their scent world. And I gladly listen to all the ladies and gentlemen kings as they describe their world here in reviews, statements, and critiques. And I remember that I am a king too.

In the morning, my first task at work is to brew some tea. For years, it has been the Earl Grey black tea from Rossmann. The mug is always within reach on my desk next to the computer mouse, and everyone knows it by now.

As always in the morning, the door opens, colleagues come in, and we have a brief morning meeting in my office. Today, a colleague looks at my cup and says, "That tea smells good, what kind is it?" I show her the package and explain that the Rossmann Earl Grey, compared to the Lipton from before, which unfortunately is no longer available, practically has no bergamot aroma at all. It’s more of an almost normal black tea to my taste. Worlds away from the green Lipton, which I miss dearly and last had many years ago in Norway. She says she doesn’t like Earl Grey at all, but this one smells good! I notice she is surprised by what she just said. She leaves.
Since she was wearing one of those dreadful FFP2 scent-killing masks, I wonder silently how my esteemed colleague could possibly have smelled black tea. It’s very Jean-Baptiste Grenouille-like. Then it clicks: She must have meant the "Le Mâle Le Parfum | Jean Paul Gaultier," which I had applied in the morning with 6 sprays...

And yes, this fragrance can handle those 6 sprays. The black Le Mâle is by no means a light scent. No, no, it has substance - but it wraps around you. You know that feeling from high-quality skincare creams. It envelops its wearer in a balsamic embrace. Perfectly tailored. Like a bespoke suit. And yet it radiates outward, making it particularly appealing to women, who then think you’ve brewed a wonder tea ;-)). How that works is a mystery to me. Here, at least, it has happened in a magical way. That’s the charm of this perfume.

In terms of pure progression, there isn’t much to report. The start is cardamom (scent impression: delicious caramelized fairground sugar) against a background that remains the same as it was upon first spraying. You experience a darker vanilla that begins to push forward just a tiny bit after 2.5 hours. But only minimally. Along with it, there’s a soft, spicy wood that isn’t resinous but has a very subtle smoky quality. Iris adds a powdery quality in the heart. Lavender gives a kick, a certain twist in the story; without the lavender, the scent would be boring. And that’s about it. It doesn’t sound impressive - but it is, see above!!

The longevity is excellent, 6 sprays and the workday is saved. Even in the evening, you can enjoy the beautifully fading vanilla.

The Boss Bottled Oud flanker starts off on two tracks.
On one hand, it begins with an almost overwhelming Oud. The packaging tells us that it is supposed to be 100% natural Oud. Given the price for a 100 ml bottle, one can hardly believe it, but it seems to be achievable after all. Alongside the Oud, green apple with slight citrus hints forms the second part of the opening.

As it develops, both directions balance out and increasingly merge with and into each other. However, the Oud remains the dominant note. It is blended with clove and cinnamon, where the clove never exceeds the level of being overly spiced, and the cinnamon is used more like salt in a soup: it never comes across as festive. The saffron also does not stand out and integrates nicely into the Oud blend, which overall indeed gives a very rounded impression. The typical Boss Bottled apple-wood-spice DNA serves as a sort of foundation and occasionally makes itself known with a synthetic peak, but not loudly.

This fragrance can particularly be recommended in light of the fact that the combination of Oud with the Boss Bottled DNA comes across as pleasantly different from the often seen classic Oud-Rose combination. And it can certainly be described as very successful, provided that one also enjoys the regular Boss Bottled.

It probably depends on one's personal birth date what each person imagines the atmosphere in a jazz club to be like. For me, it's a small establishment, perhaps even just a basement room, with a small stage where the musicians play. In front of it, a few tables with seating, along the walls (leather) sofas, mostly a standing and wandering audience. The murmur of voices and music merge into an acoustic sea. Drinks are being consumed, toasts are made, smoking, laughing, flirting. It's hot, bartenders and waitstaff are bustling around, the air is thick. It smells of tobacco smoke, a little sweaty, of perfume and alcohol.

How does one turn that into a fragrance?

Well, quite simply: A decent portion of smoke like "By The Fireplace" from my perspective, plus a boozy alcohol scent wafting over from the bar, and wood and leather from the furnishings. Or what? No, too simple, that's not sophisticated...

Sophistication at Maison Margiela seems to work like this: Replica Jazz Club fragrance is dominated by a spicy herbal scent accord that comes across as almost biting in a way. It's sharp, but not burning like pepper or chili, rather like a highly concentrated plant extract. One also perceives something bitter, scratchy. This accord is constantly in the air, always in the foreground. Underneath, there is a kind of alcohol sweetness, a hint of leather, and a trace of smoke as a supporting base.

What is supposed to be jazz club about this, I had to ponder. In the club, a herbal note, I never thought of that during my club days, except maybe when drinking Jägermeister. This spice suddenly reminded me of TF's Black Orchid. Total confusion: Snappy tropical rainforest as a motif, what's going on, strange club, I wouldn't go in there! Suddenly, the penny dropped: This snappy spice represents that burning, scratchy, hoarse feeling one has after hours in the club, after talking to a thousand people all night while still smoking or standing in the smoke. Then there's the aftertaste of many alcoholic drinks one had, which settles in so sweetly. And then for the finale: it's early morning, you step out completely overheated and stand in the fresh morning air: and it smells sweet! Does that come to mind for you after such a night? Sweet! That's how one always stood in the farewell circle: scratchy throat, sweet morning air, clothes and skin smelling of the club. And that is exactly what this fragrance represents in my opinion: It describes oneself when one has been in the (jazz) club. Not the club, oneself!

All those who love vanilla can dive in wholeheartedly. Even the ladies! The Emporio Armani - Stronger With You Absolutely is primarily a medium-weight vanilla fragrance. And in this regard, it is made very deliciously. It is sweet like vanilla pudding. The combination with chestnut, which brings a nutty touch, fits perfectly. If almonds had been used, the scent would have gone gourmand, but the choice of chestnut prevents that.
The top note lasts 15 minutes and is not boozy for me, as I don't detect any distinct rum. Instead, I perceive a very, very pleasant hairspray note. Association: well-groomed in high-end salon quality. The hairspray association re-emerges later in the drydown.

What I miss is spice. The fragrance has too little wood or resin. It's as if you’ve eaten, let’s say: grandma's delicious vanilla pudding or raw cake batter straight from the bowl, really indulging because it was so tasty, and then you need something savory, like a salami sandwich. In our language, we say it makes you feel "qualstrig" and you somehow crave something solid.

In conclusion, it can be said: delicious scent (not just for the gentlemen) and a candidate for purchase that makes you crave something hearty. The next day, to balance it out, something rugged like leather or oud or the like.