Top Rated Reviews
2016
ColinM
Masterpiece!
Dia Man by Amouage is stunning. Stunning! Not my favourite Amouage to wear “daily” and forget about it, due to its very subtle presence on skin (which for me would be a crime to miss, so I’d rather wear it when I’ve enough attention and peace of mind to appreciate it), but surely and by far, probably my favourite ever of their range as a work of... hell, there, I’ll say it: a work of art. I think it accomplishes a level of vibrant creativity and impeccable perfection no other Amouage ever did, except maybe for Ciel. But Dia probably pushes the limit even above that. It manages to be smoother, to subtract even more, to make an even more precarious, complex and thin balance perfectly stand still as a transparent ice sculpture. Just replacing ice with air. Others in their range are more easy to love, richer and more fulfilling maybe, surely performing better and thus being more appealing and easier to wear. But Dia Man is just something different.
On paper it is seemingly quite a simple, understated floral-suede-vetiver scent with spicy-green accents – and you could wonder where’s the deal. The deal is precisely in how Dia transform that mildly promising, yet probably not-overly-exciting structure into something completely amazing. And that sadly can’t really be described with words, which would only make it sound undeservedly boring. Or well, mines would surely. I could mention a mind-blowing weightlessness, a unique sense of natural refinement, an amazingly, almost hypnotic slow evolution bringing in and out vetiver, smooth smoke and posh powdery suede, quiet clean woods, delicate breezy flower petals (orris, peony, ylang) which you can almost feel agitated by some gentle wind, an incredibly crisp yet almost unperceivable sort of grassy-minty aroma breezing erratically through the notes as a fairytale ghost of an elf, a genius touch of silky fruitiness... but that would all make Dia sound “just as another good scent” – while it isn’t. Not because it isn’t good, obviously, but because it’s beyond a scent - it’s a world, really. I would add “totally unparalleled” if Hermès Cuir d’Ange didn’t exist, as in some way, I think these two scents share some connections – both in some notes (especially the powdery-suede treatment), in their stunning quality, and in their general texture and inspiration. But creativity-wise, Dia is probably a tad superior to that, as it dares a bit more in terms of minimalism and complexity. The palette is broader here, so to speak, but surely they share some roots.
Pardon this personal detour but in a way, Dia Man reminds me of some summer holidays I used to spend in Switzerland, Engadin valley, some years ago. I always admired and deeply enjoyed the sense of cleanliness, clarity, purity and almost unsettling calm you can feel wandering through the lakes and the Graubünden mountains in the summer season, together with the warm, cozy, subtle yet somehow also very austere, pragmatic, even slightly decadent neat elegance of many houses and cafés there. In my memories the world there was all green and blue with a sprinkle of flowers, a constant uplifting crisp breeze, a Swiss sense of restrained elegance combined with a deep, archaic love for nature and for the mountains, with their dark shades and primitive secrets (which a couple of clouds are enough to transform from heaven to the most frightening place on Earth). I mean, Nietzsche spent his holidays there, in Sils Maria’s village – you get what I mean. It’s not only about some fresh air and good food to seek some rest. It’s like wandering through human nature. Now ironically Amouage’s heritage hasn’t much to do with of all that (or maybe it has?), and yet the refreshing, soothing sense of sophisticated, almost meditative yet also very “civilized” raw naturalness is quite the same. Probably “natural elegance” hasn’t ever make so much sense as it would for Dia Man. And it’s something really beyond simple charm, or a simple “natural feel”. It’s truly the modulating smell of a whole ideal world in a bottle, a blend of crisp archaic nature and modern cozy refinement. And the choice of giving it such a discreet, subtle texture is just pure genius to me, as it really feels like a call to your sensitivity and intellect to appreciate it at its fullest. Brilliant!
10/10
On paper it is seemingly quite a simple, understated floral-suede-vetiver scent with spicy-green accents – and you could wonder where’s the deal. The deal is precisely in how Dia transform that mildly promising, yet probably not-overly-exciting structure into something completely amazing. And that sadly can’t really be described with words, which would only make it sound undeservedly boring. Or well, mines would surely. I could mention a mind-blowing weightlessness, a unique sense of natural refinement, an amazingly, almost hypnotic slow evolution bringing in and out vetiver, smooth smoke and posh powdery suede, quiet clean woods, delicate breezy flower petals (orris, peony, ylang) which you can almost feel agitated by some gentle wind, an incredibly crisp yet almost unperceivable sort of grassy-minty aroma breezing erratically through the notes as a fairytale ghost of an elf, a genius touch of silky fruitiness... but that would all make Dia sound “just as another good scent” – while it isn’t. Not because it isn’t good, obviously, but because it’s beyond a scent - it’s a world, really. I would add “totally unparalleled” if Hermès Cuir d’Ange didn’t exist, as in some way, I think these two scents share some connections – both in some notes (especially the powdery-suede treatment), in their stunning quality, and in their general texture and inspiration. But creativity-wise, Dia is probably a tad superior to that, as it dares a bit more in terms of minimalism and complexity. The palette is broader here, so to speak, but surely they share some roots.
Pardon this personal detour but in a way, Dia Man reminds me of some summer holidays I used to spend in Switzerland, Engadin valley, some years ago. I always admired and deeply enjoyed the sense of cleanliness, clarity, purity and almost unsettling calm you can feel wandering through the lakes and the Graubünden mountains in the summer season, together with the warm, cozy, subtle yet somehow also very austere, pragmatic, even slightly decadent neat elegance of many houses and cafés there. In my memories the world there was all green and blue with a sprinkle of flowers, a constant uplifting crisp breeze, a Swiss sense of restrained elegance combined with a deep, archaic love for nature and for the mountains, with their dark shades and primitive secrets (which a couple of clouds are enough to transform from heaven to the most frightening place on Earth). I mean, Nietzsche spent his holidays there, in Sils Maria’s village – you get what I mean. It’s not only about some fresh air and good food to seek some rest. It’s like wandering through human nature. Now ironically Amouage’s heritage hasn’t much to do with of all that (or maybe it has?), and yet the refreshing, soothing sense of sophisticated, almost meditative yet also very “civilized” raw naturalness is quite the same. Probably “natural elegance” hasn’t ever make so much sense as it would for Dia Man. And it’s something really beyond simple charm, or a simple “natural feel”. It’s truly the modulating smell of a whole ideal world in a bottle, a blend of crisp archaic nature and modern cozy refinement. And the choice of giving it such a discreet, subtle texture is just pure genius to me, as it really feels like a call to your sensitivity and intellect to appreciate it at its fullest. Brilliant!
10/10
GothicHeart
I smell yellow...
How does yellow smell?
To me it smells like Volupté, for Volupté is a million suns burning in a bottle, blooming like yellow and white incandescent cosmic flowers, embroidered in the huge dark canvas of the space between the stars.
Most of the time we tend to forget that down-to-earth matters are still floating in a microscopic speck of cosmic dust swirling in the most farflung rims of a rather tiny galaxy.
If there was some fictitious fusion between the sci-fi and cloak and dagger genres, this would be the treasure waiting for the audacious adventurer in the end.
This is what Conan the Barbarian would risk his life for, in order to seize it from its rare earth august pedestal, facing either monstrous sentinels or grids of death rays all the way.
And while its abstract shape would have probably looked incomprehensible to his barbaric mind, the walnut-sized emerald on its top, beaming mesmerising memories of dense humid forests and lost cities, would have made it irresistible to his ravenous eyes.
I can't decide whether its bottle depicts a very primitive or a highly stylised bust of some long-forsaken goddess.
In its golden fathomless depths I can see the voluptuous charms of a barbarian queen ruling on some lush corner of an exo-planet, totally unaware that she's been monitored by eyes coming from thousands of light-years away. Eyes belonging to a deep-space plunderer named something like Carmen Sandiego, whose scent is oscillating like a pulsar for all eternity. Volupte is both these women and each of them is fiercely tantalising in her own unique way.
And while its top notes are scorching supernovas wreaking effulgent splendour on the dark and frozen extremities of the macrocosm, its base note is tears shed for something dear and long gone. And although you can hardly recall what it was, its absence still ravages your heart.
Somewhere in the background a melancholic voice is singing:
"For a moment you could not recall the colour of her eyes..."
And I stand terrified by the unbearable veracity these words are carrying.
To me it smells like Volupté, for Volupté is a million suns burning in a bottle, blooming like yellow and white incandescent cosmic flowers, embroidered in the huge dark canvas of the space between the stars.
Most of the time we tend to forget that down-to-earth matters are still floating in a microscopic speck of cosmic dust swirling in the most farflung rims of a rather tiny galaxy.
If there was some fictitious fusion between the sci-fi and cloak and dagger genres, this would be the treasure waiting for the audacious adventurer in the end.
This is what Conan the Barbarian would risk his life for, in order to seize it from its rare earth august pedestal, facing either monstrous sentinels or grids of death rays all the way.
And while its abstract shape would have probably looked incomprehensible to his barbaric mind, the walnut-sized emerald on its top, beaming mesmerising memories of dense humid forests and lost cities, would have made it irresistible to his ravenous eyes.
I can't decide whether its bottle depicts a very primitive or a highly stylised bust of some long-forsaken goddess.
In its golden fathomless depths I can see the voluptuous charms of a barbarian queen ruling on some lush corner of an exo-planet, totally unaware that she's been monitored by eyes coming from thousands of light-years away. Eyes belonging to a deep-space plunderer named something like Carmen Sandiego, whose scent is oscillating like a pulsar for all eternity. Volupte is both these women and each of them is fiercely tantalising in her own unique way.
And while its top notes are scorching supernovas wreaking effulgent splendour on the dark and frozen extremities of the macrocosm, its base note is tears shed for something dear and long gone. And although you can hardly recall what it was, its absence still ravages your heart.
Somewhere in the background a melancholic voice is singing:
"For a moment you could not recall the colour of her eyes..."
And I stand terrified by the unbearable veracity these words are carrying.
BrianBuchanan
expressionist enchantment
A richly atmospheric juice of burnt embers and incense; where woodbark, brown humus and evergreen leaves lie strewn with red sweets.
No picnic in the woods this but Hansel and Gretel abandoned in the Dunkelwald (Dark Forest).
A beguiling tour de force that resonates with something deep in the unconscious.
(Fairytale inspiration courtesy of graindemusc)
No picnic in the woods this but Hansel and Gretel abandoned in the Dunkelwald (Dark Forest).
A beguiling tour de force that resonates with something deep in the unconscious.
(Fairytale inspiration courtesy of graindemusc)
Tar
Bliss
So GRAND SOIR meant to be the next POUR LE SOIR... I feel a bit sad. Both of them are incredible and fantastic. POUR LE SOIR is (was?) woody, rather unisex and brown.
But... GRAND SOIR is also fantastic, and landed immediately on my wishlist. Right now the ratings say 8.8 / 10. Pretty realistic.
Unfolding itself with innocent, aquatic flowers, looking around, realizing, that the place is safety, GRAND SOIR grows to be a wonder! Depending on your skin, it can be more aquatic-flowery, or more honey-fruitty. It is a true bliss to wear this sweet, honeydew-melon like fragrance, that is strong, heavy and happy.
Kindred: Safanad (de Marly), Le Rivage des Syrtes (MDCI), Back to Black (Kilian)
Audience: unisex (a bit more feminine than the ancestor)
Strength: not extreme, but still pretty good
Type: yes, completely my type :D
Season: from the moment, when I already grabbed a bottle, all seasons included
Occasion: always, when I am awake
But... GRAND SOIR is also fantastic, and landed immediately on my wishlist. Right now the ratings say 8.8 / 10. Pretty realistic.
Unfolding itself with innocent, aquatic flowers, looking around, realizing, that the place is safety, GRAND SOIR grows to be a wonder! Depending on your skin, it can be more aquatic-flowery, or more honey-fruitty. It is a true bliss to wear this sweet, honeydew-melon like fragrance, that is strong, heavy and happy.
Kindred: Safanad (de Marly), Le Rivage des Syrtes (MDCI), Back to Black (Kilian)
Audience: unisex (a bit more feminine than the ancestor)
Strength: not extreme, but still pretty good
Type: yes, completely my type :D
Season: from the moment, when I already grabbed a bottle, all seasons included
Occasion: always, when I am awake
RhythmnHues
Gucci Pour Homme - The Macho version
There was no way I could stay away from the GPH comparison. (I tried) It was obviously the idea to begin with and then take it somewhere else. And it does go someplace else. Where GPH was smooth, subtle and sophisticated - with a lot of nuances and a complex development stage, this is a pretty straight-forward, very balls-to-the-wall approach to the same concept. Smoke, dusty-woods and spices.
The main notes are pretty similar. Frankincense, Ginger, Papyrus, Pepper, Cedar, & Oud. Just more in-your-face than GPH. Very dusty and dry too, but without any of the sweet-powdery and floral aspects of GPH. No leather here either. But all this makes for quite a different scent. The quality of ingredients seems quite good. And performance wise it's quite a beast. Lasts a good 10hrs plus on my skin and for days on my clothes.
I'm not sure if this could be the ideal "replacement" for GPH - depends on what one percieves, I suppose. But this is definitely very good on it's own right. If GPH was the sensitive, soft-spoken, slightly-feminine version of this concept, this is a foul-mouthed, hairy-chested, macho version. Surely recommended if you're into these accords.
8.5/10
The main notes are pretty similar. Frankincense, Ginger, Papyrus, Pepper, Cedar, & Oud. Just more in-your-face than GPH. Very dusty and dry too, but without any of the sweet-powdery and floral aspects of GPH. No leather here either. But all this makes for quite a different scent. The quality of ingredients seems quite good. And performance wise it's quite a beast. Lasts a good 10hrs plus on my skin and for days on my clothes.
I'm not sure if this could be the ideal "replacement" for GPH - depends on what one percieves, I suppose. But this is definitely very good on it's own right. If GPH was the sensitive, soft-spoken, slightly-feminine version of this concept, this is a foul-mouthed, hairy-chested, macho version. Surely recommended if you're into these accords.
8.5/10
Lacrimae rerum...
For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
Her name was not Annabel Lee, but the one which exemplifies beauty since antiquity and brought Troy to its knees. And I guess her sparkling aura was the sun missing from E.A.Poe's immortal elegy.
And now she's gone...
The lodestar of five wonderful years of my life has stopped twinkling. And the perfume which was once the epitome of immense tenderness and fearless devotion has now become a lachrymose memento mori.
She was living in Sweden for some years now. I believe she somehow belonged there, for, despite coming from the easternmost part of the Mediterranean, she was a tall blond green-eyed Valkyrie.
I still remember the day when she stormed our tiny appartment some 20 years ago, looking forward to show me her newfound objet d'art. She was like a night witch caught red-handed in broad daylight with a blue sphere of rather questionable intents in her hands. I couldn't help but admit that what she was holding looked and smelled so very beautiful, but still, I asked her what was it that she found so irresistible about it.
"First of all its name keeps my alien heart dreaming. Then, I love the idea of holding a tiny cerulean cosmos in my hand and be its ruly queen. Oh, and this is where I shall be roaming when I'll leave this planet...in a hundred years from now."
She left at 42, 80 years short of her giggling expectation. I guess she could no longer resist the skies beckoning her.
She fought bravely till the end.
I sank in a corner, rerunning the reel of our time together in the theatre of my mind. Drowsy mornings, lazy noons, wistful evenings, tender nights, quirky days, sweet cravings, hilarious fights, all reeking with Sun, Moon, Stars, the perfume she loved the most. I won't label it as her signature, for her true signature was her mere existence, knocking silly my enamoured heart. When I raised my head anew the night had already began to unfold its inky, condoling tentacles all around me. I can't recall another time of my life being spent in such an "idle" way but I guess I can't recall such a cataclysmic downpour of memories either.
I sprayed some of her tiny cosmos on me and hit the streets, melting in the warm Greek summer night that she will never feel again. I'm sure she'd never want me to shed a tear for her, but this is her only wish that I find impossible to grant.
Farewell my beautiful sköldmö. Please don't be sad that hereafter my gothic heart shall always be a little more gothic forevermore. I hope you'll find peace someplace between Mount Olympus and Valhalla. Someplace amongst Suns...Moons...Stars...
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
Her name was not Annabel Lee, but the one which exemplifies beauty since antiquity and brought Troy to its knees. And I guess her sparkling aura was the sun missing from E.A.Poe's immortal elegy.
And now she's gone...
The lodestar of five wonderful years of my life has stopped twinkling. And the perfume which was once the epitome of immense tenderness and fearless devotion has now become a lachrymose memento mori.
She was living in Sweden for some years now. I believe she somehow belonged there, for, despite coming from the easternmost part of the Mediterranean, she was a tall blond green-eyed Valkyrie.
I still remember the day when she stormed our tiny appartment some 20 years ago, looking forward to show me her newfound objet d'art. She was like a night witch caught red-handed in broad daylight with a blue sphere of rather questionable intents in her hands. I couldn't help but admit that what she was holding looked and smelled so very beautiful, but still, I asked her what was it that she found so irresistible about it.
"First of all its name keeps my alien heart dreaming. Then, I love the idea of holding a tiny cerulean cosmos in my hand and be its ruly queen. Oh, and this is where I shall be roaming when I'll leave this planet...in a hundred years from now."
She left at 42, 80 years short of her giggling expectation. I guess she could no longer resist the skies beckoning her.
She fought bravely till the end.
I sank in a corner, rerunning the reel of our time together in the theatre of my mind. Drowsy mornings, lazy noons, wistful evenings, tender nights, quirky days, sweet cravings, hilarious fights, all reeking with Sun, Moon, Stars, the perfume she loved the most. I won't label it as her signature, for her true signature was her mere existence, knocking silly my enamoured heart. When I raised my head anew the night had already began to unfold its inky, condoling tentacles all around me. I can't recall another time of my life being spent in such an "idle" way but I guess I can't recall such a cataclysmic downpour of memories either.
I sprayed some of her tiny cosmos on me and hit the streets, melting in the warm Greek summer night that she will never feel again. I'm sure she'd never want me to shed a tear for her, but this is her only wish that I find impossible to grant.
Farewell my beautiful sköldmö. Please don't be sad that hereafter my gothic heart shall always be a little more gothic forevermore. I hope you'll find peace someplace between Mount Olympus and Valhalla. Someplace amongst Suns...Moons...Stars...
4 Comments
Taskphorce
Citrusy, Powdery, Musks ...Oh My!!!!
Its not often that I encounter a $600 fragrance where I can justify the price. This is the exception...If I were to sum up Xerjoff Pikovaya Dama in just a few words I would describe it to someone by saying overwhelming powdery-clean-musks infused with a light soapy citrus. There is an accord that resembles baby powder...a royal citrusy baby powder created by the finest materials on earth. The scent is straight forward and linear, it doesn't really change...but make no mistake about it,a little goes a very long way, this fragrance is nuclear...in other words it is incredibly potent. 16+ hours and still going strong. It is a Russian Airport Exclusive. There are two versions, the regular bottle and a shiny gold limited edition that comes with a bracelet. The latter is approximately $1800.
Worth every penny!
One of the most honest, worthwhile and affordably good releases in a long while. I am not a fan of Yves Rocher usually, as despite I respect the brand, none of their releases seemed that interesting to me so far (not even for the price); but Cuir Vetiver quite got me. It is by no means inferior to many decent designers easily showing double the price tag – Hermès, for instance: for the similarity of the notes, the composition and the quality, this could have easily been a budget-mainstream release by them. In fact Cuir Vetiver is basically a cheaper, yet absolutely solid sort of fresher Vetiver Tonka meeting Terre d’Hermès with a thin shade of some smoky tonka-infused suede (and that’s the only “cuir” you’ll get), and also some tangy cardamom nuance which reminds me of another Hermès scent for men – Voyage.
A poor man’s Hermès digest, shortly, with a surprising good quality and a not-so-ordinary texture. Specifically I detect here a more than compelling sort of fresh-woody-powdery transparent clarity dangerously close to Ellena’s style, and despite Cuir Vetiver smells quite close to the stuff I mentioned above, for some reasons it doesn’t feel just like a blatant ripoff of it. I don’t get what precisely, but there’s more than that. It’s like if more than a simple passive carbon-copying activity to monetize on other brands’ ideas, this was just more a genuine “tribute” simply taking inspiration from them with enough skills and budget to elaborate the brief a bit. It’s still 90% close to Vetiver Tonka and the other couple of Hermès I mentioned, but the remaining 10% is, well, a little sparkle of uniqueness (after all, it’s fresher than Vetiver Tonka, and smokier than both Terre and Voyage – unique, in its own and a bit derivative way).
So, all in all, totally recommended. It smells good, classy, versatile, smoky yet fresh and breezy enough to be perfect for any climate and circumstance. And surprisingly natural, too, considering the level of flat syntheticness you usually get at this price range. Sadly the persistence is a bit weak, but it’s so inexpensive that you can simply reapply it on and on. For 29 eur/100 ml or so, a total winner in my “everyday-replacement-for-more-expensive-stuff” book.
8/10
A poor man’s Hermès digest, shortly, with a surprising good quality and a not-so-ordinary texture. Specifically I detect here a more than compelling sort of fresh-woody-powdery transparent clarity dangerously close to Ellena’s style, and despite Cuir Vetiver smells quite close to the stuff I mentioned above, for some reasons it doesn’t feel just like a blatant ripoff of it. I don’t get what precisely, but there’s more than that. It’s like if more than a simple passive carbon-copying activity to monetize on other brands’ ideas, this was just more a genuine “tribute” simply taking inspiration from them with enough skills and budget to elaborate the brief a bit. It’s still 90% close to Vetiver Tonka and the other couple of Hermès I mentioned, but the remaining 10% is, well, a little sparkle of uniqueness (after all, it’s fresher than Vetiver Tonka, and smokier than both Terre and Voyage – unique, in its own and a bit derivative way).
So, all in all, totally recommended. It smells good, classy, versatile, smoky yet fresh and breezy enough to be perfect for any climate and circumstance. And surprisingly natural, too, considering the level of flat syntheticness you usually get at this price range. Sadly the persistence is a bit weak, but it’s so inexpensive that you can simply reapply it on and on. For 29 eur/100 ml or so, a total winner in my “everyday-replacement-for-more-expensive-stuff” book.
8/10
Rmf1112
Dry Smokey Oud
Initial Impression short review
Very dark, smokey, and dry. Don't be fooled by the sweet notes of vanilla, praline, etc., I feel there is just barely enough of those notes to not be offensively bitter and acrid. This is slightly bitter and acrid, but in a good 'sat close to a bonfire' way. The beginning brings a very rubbery oud, which gives way to the main smokeyness- perhaps they are going for burning/burnt oud feel? Maybe someone more familar with that could tell me if that's accurate, but I really enjoy it anyhow.
In comparison, I had bought Amouage Interlude for the smokeyness, but it was too sweet, so I sold it. I am not saying they smell anything alike, but I much prefer this dry smokiness to the overly sweet oppoponax of Interlude. Performance also is nowhere near the Amouage, obviously, but decent for the $30-ish that I paid.
Edit: After a while the sweet notes cone out to play, but only slightly and definitely not cloying. More like a smoked plum feel, without being excessively opulent. Highly recommended, but not for everyone.
Very dark, smokey, and dry. Don't be fooled by the sweet notes of vanilla, praline, etc., I feel there is just barely enough of those notes to not be offensively bitter and acrid. This is slightly bitter and acrid, but in a good 'sat close to a bonfire' way. The beginning brings a very rubbery oud, which gives way to the main smokeyness- perhaps they are going for burning/burnt oud feel? Maybe someone more familar with that could tell me if that's accurate, but I really enjoy it anyhow.
In comparison, I had bought Amouage Interlude for the smokeyness, but it was too sweet, so I sold it. I am not saying they smell anything alike, but I much prefer this dry smokiness to the overly sweet oppoponax of Interlude. Performance also is nowhere near the Amouage, obviously, but decent for the $30-ish that I paid.
Edit: After a while the sweet notes cone out to play, but only slightly and definitely not cloying. More like a smoked plum feel, without being excessively opulent. Highly recommended, but not for everyone.
Fragile equilibrium...
Desirade is quite a strange case. While it's clearly an oriental, it's like it comes from an orient entirely of its own, for it's very unusual and it doesn't remind me of anything else. Not of a perfume at least. What it actually reminds me of, is Nag Champa incense sticks. It has a wetness which is so intense that's almost tactile. It's overly sweet, cloying even, but instead of running away from it, I found myself going closer. I guess this is what "hypnotic" means in olfactory terms. Not being able to run away from something seemingly undesired. And this is Desirade's secret power in the form of an enthralling spell.
I don't know whether it has anything to do with the French overseas island of La Desirade in the Lesser Antilles, unless it was named after it to evoke a sence of exoticness. If this was the case behind its christening, then congratulations Aubusson, you've absolutely nailed it! This is exactly how I imagine the lush, strange flowers of the Caribbees would smell like.
Never mind that it has the most impractical cap ever, cause that aside, the bottle is very beautiful; like a bubble of gas slowly escaping the ocean floor, or a spearhed driven into the ground, if the direction is reversed. Actually, it's an accident waiting to happen, as it scores a perfect ten in knockoverability [sic], but I really wouldn't mind my house smelling that captivating for a couple of months. And since it can be purchased for a song, the only adjective I'd use for this kind of an accident would be "happy".
I don't know whether it has anything to do with the French overseas island of La Desirade in the Lesser Antilles, unless it was named after it to evoke a sence of exoticness. If this was the case behind its christening, then congratulations Aubusson, you've absolutely nailed it! This is exactly how I imagine the lush, strange flowers of the Caribbees would smell like.
Never mind that it has the most impractical cap ever, cause that aside, the bottle is very beautiful; like a bubble of gas slowly escaping the ocean floor, or a spearhed driven into the ground, if the direction is reversed. Actually, it's an accident waiting to happen, as it scores a perfect ten in knockoverability [sic], but I really wouldn't mind my house smelling that captivating for a couple of months. And since it can be purchased for a song, the only adjective I'd use for this kind of an accident would be "happy".