03/06/2021
Nikolai
7 Reviews
Translated
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Nikolai
3
The zenith of citrus olfaction, the peak of emotion
On a cool March night, during the visit of a friend, a revelation occurred that was to leave a lasting and impressive, almost threatening mark on my position and the emotions I do not shy away from bringing to olfactory creations, but rather allow them, even enjoy them, had it not been for the fact that it was so moving.
Said friend - at the same time companion on my journey through the enchanting world of fragrances - spared me in said night, which burned itself by a starry sky and a clashing, but at the same time clear-seeming frost especially in my memory, generously a few sprays of the Zesten Mandarine Pamplemousse. It may be the associations that make this scent so special to me. The reminder of the extent to which we are subject to nature and fate shapes our choices, which implement me a deep emotional bond to this great fragrance creation.
Application. The rich, cold clear bottle of the zest. The shapely cap. All of these were the first haptic signals it would send me. Even before I put my finger to the atomizer, I sensed the specialness that was to await me, May it have been the atmosphere, let it actually be attributed to the properties of the bottle itself - the emotional connection was created in that seminal moment, as the Lord created the earth in seven auspicious days.
Even though I wasn't aware of it at the time, the notes, the subtle nuances that would immediately surround my olfactory nous, were to redefine my view of fragrances and their impact.
The top notes - citrusy. Intense. Powerful. Gracefully fruity.
Bergamot veiled by mandarin, gently kissed by a bittersweet grapefruit.
Powerful.
But only for a moment. Immediately it transforms into a perfectly balanced blend that does not pretend to be superior, but equally does not subordinate itself. Here, the bergamot remains permanently dominant, but gets proper competition from tangerine, which dances ambitiously around the bergamot. The grapefruit remains protected by the strong bergamot. It is rounded.
At least until a floral inconsistency blends in, bright and gentle. It shines from time to time, evoking associations with a pristine, lovely valley of flowers in the Alps. Clear air and fragrant flowers. They only stand out now and then, subordinate to the dominating bergamot. The flowers provide variety - there is no tiring permanence through them. Pleasing. Downright exciting. This absence awakens euphoria. An exuberant optimism that runs through the outstanding durability of the fragrance and brightens the day, intensifies the night.
Personally, though, I don't smell ambergris. May it be drowned out by the grandeur and aesthetic superiority of the predominant ingredients, may it be deliberately subordinate. I do not perceive it, which in no way means a negative effect on the beguiling fragrance.
Qui tacet, consentire videtur - seems to be the motto of Ambranote in this creation. And this is more than justified.
After more than a full 12 hours, the increasing decline augurs an imminent adieu. It signifies mourning. Mourning, for the end of the emotional journey. Grief at how the zest turns away from one, making the departure slow and painful. But the sadness gives way to euphoria. Awareness of the exhilaration that has been experienced. The joy of it. The anticipation, of a possible next time. The disbelief at the unrestrained emotions and attractions that a scent can trigger.
Partir, c'est toujours mourir un peu!
Marcus Tullius Cicero already stated the following over 2000 years ago, which @Niccoboeddeke aptly picked up on.
Omnia praeclara rara
Indeed, excellence is rare. So rare that I could not find the most excellent until so late.
Said friend - at the same time companion on my journey through the enchanting world of fragrances - spared me in said night, which burned itself by a starry sky and a clashing, but at the same time clear-seeming frost especially in my memory, generously a few sprays of the Zesten Mandarine Pamplemousse. It may be the associations that make this scent so special to me. The reminder of the extent to which we are subject to nature and fate shapes our choices, which implement me a deep emotional bond to this great fragrance creation.
Application. The rich, cold clear bottle of the zest. The shapely cap. All of these were the first haptic signals it would send me. Even before I put my finger to the atomizer, I sensed the specialness that was to await me, May it have been the atmosphere, let it actually be attributed to the properties of the bottle itself - the emotional connection was created in that seminal moment, as the Lord created the earth in seven auspicious days.
Even though I wasn't aware of it at the time, the notes, the subtle nuances that would immediately surround my olfactory nous, were to redefine my view of fragrances and their impact.
The top notes - citrusy. Intense. Powerful. Gracefully fruity.
Bergamot veiled by mandarin, gently kissed by a bittersweet grapefruit.
Powerful.
But only for a moment. Immediately it transforms into a perfectly balanced blend that does not pretend to be superior, but equally does not subordinate itself. Here, the bergamot remains permanently dominant, but gets proper competition from tangerine, which dances ambitiously around the bergamot. The grapefruit remains protected by the strong bergamot. It is rounded.
At least until a floral inconsistency blends in, bright and gentle. It shines from time to time, evoking associations with a pristine, lovely valley of flowers in the Alps. Clear air and fragrant flowers. They only stand out now and then, subordinate to the dominating bergamot. The flowers provide variety - there is no tiring permanence through them. Pleasing. Downright exciting. This absence awakens euphoria. An exuberant optimism that runs through the outstanding durability of the fragrance and brightens the day, intensifies the night.
Personally, though, I don't smell ambergris. May it be drowned out by the grandeur and aesthetic superiority of the predominant ingredients, may it be deliberately subordinate. I do not perceive it, which in no way means a negative effect on the beguiling fragrance.
Qui tacet, consentire videtur - seems to be the motto of Ambranote in this creation. And this is more than justified.
After more than a full 12 hours, the increasing decline augurs an imminent adieu. It signifies mourning. Mourning, for the end of the emotional journey. Grief at how the zest turns away from one, making the departure slow and painful. But the sadness gives way to euphoria. Awareness of the exhilaration that has been experienced. The joy of it. The anticipation, of a possible next time. The disbelief at the unrestrained emotions and attractions that a scent can trigger.
Partir, c'est toujours mourir un peu!
Marcus Tullius Cicero already stated the following over 2000 years ago, which @Niccoboeddeke aptly picked up on.
Omnia praeclara rara
Indeed, excellence is rare. So rare that I could not find the most excellent until so late.