08/16/2018
Meggi
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Meggi
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Hide-and-seek in the wrong place
Heieiei, the tangerine first works its way out of a layer of glue. As soon as she has managed this and shot down a few (certainly laboratory-pimped) fruit molecules, she is drowned in that tea note which is possibly related to magnolia and may in turn spring from the test tube - see below. Nevertheless, it all comes across as airy and refreshing. A hint of caramel creaminess grounded or rather binds the fragrance a little. Good idea.
Reminds me nevertheless too much of the Ruhr-Uni-Synthetik & Co. Especially the misguided 'L'Île au Thé' by Goutal comes to my mind. Maybe not twin, the Goutal test was a long time ago anyway. But so from this point of view everything fits that I can recapitulate from it: Plastic citrus fruit on synthetic tea.
After two hours 'Yu S'n' is on the skin. This is still not unfresh and smells somehow pleasant, at least my feeling of disturbance was more pronounced with the Goutal. The first reason to suspect already sounded above: the creamy bond.
The second reason is actually to moan. Because unfortunately the most beautiful part of the fragrance is lost in silence. After about three hours, the offensive chemistry temporarily recedes in favour of an impression of ambry orange (blossom). And indeed even a bitter-dark, tobaccolike, almost tarry (!) breath can be guessed. He oversteps the fruity aspect and would have deserved a broader stage.
But by noon, that's passé too. For the rest of the day only a stale chemical sediment remains: Hedion, I think, with his apparently built-in intersection to the mandarin. See, for example, 'L'Eau Serge Lutens', whom I don't like very surprisingly. That sends the corners of your mouth down again. A thought of bland wood in the progressive afternoon does the rest.
One last word on tea: it may be that the typical floral fragrance that lies over a cup of green tea is difficult or impossible to achieve without chemicals. Although I have sometimes suspected, hence the association above, a proximity to magnolia. The flower scent of my summer magnolia has such a twist. If, however, the supposed magnolia was also not real during the corresponding perfume tests, I am no further on this track with the subject of tea.
However, I recently got to know 'No. 69' from Firn Botanical Fragrance, a natural fragrance with such a true tea note that I have become a bit ungracious with other representatives since then. Why shouldn't what works naturally with black tea also go green (useful hints welcome as always!)? Perhaps then the chemistry veil would be omitted, which - and thus the circle closes - smells strangely like magnolia, although it is supposed to be tea.
Conclusion: Doof, when the best part of a fragrance is hidden.
I thank Tiara for the rehearsal.
Reminds me nevertheless too much of the Ruhr-Uni-Synthetik & Co. Especially the misguided 'L'Île au Thé' by Goutal comes to my mind. Maybe not twin, the Goutal test was a long time ago anyway. But so from this point of view everything fits that I can recapitulate from it: Plastic citrus fruit on synthetic tea.
After two hours 'Yu S'n' is on the skin. This is still not unfresh and smells somehow pleasant, at least my feeling of disturbance was more pronounced with the Goutal. The first reason to suspect already sounded above: the creamy bond.
The second reason is actually to moan. Because unfortunately the most beautiful part of the fragrance is lost in silence. After about three hours, the offensive chemistry temporarily recedes in favour of an impression of ambry orange (blossom). And indeed even a bitter-dark, tobaccolike, almost tarry (!) breath can be guessed. He oversteps the fruity aspect and would have deserved a broader stage.
But by noon, that's passé too. For the rest of the day only a stale chemical sediment remains: Hedion, I think, with his apparently built-in intersection to the mandarin. See, for example, 'L'Eau Serge Lutens', whom I don't like very surprisingly. That sends the corners of your mouth down again. A thought of bland wood in the progressive afternoon does the rest.
One last word on tea: it may be that the typical floral fragrance that lies over a cup of green tea is difficult or impossible to achieve without chemicals. Although I have sometimes suspected, hence the association above, a proximity to magnolia. The flower scent of my summer magnolia has such a twist. If, however, the supposed magnolia was also not real during the corresponding perfume tests, I am no further on this track with the subject of tea.
However, I recently got to know 'No. 69' from Firn Botanical Fragrance, a natural fragrance with such a true tea note that I have become a bit ungracious with other representatives since then. Why shouldn't what works naturally with black tea also go green (useful hints welcome as always!)? Perhaps then the chemistry veil would be omitted, which - and thus the circle closes - smells strangely like magnolia, although it is supposed to be tea.
Conclusion: Doof, when the best part of a fragrance is hidden.
I thank Tiara for the rehearsal.
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