Perfume reviews, Xerjoff

Xerjoff Alexandria II

Synopsis: Il racconto dei racconti

Alexandria & Il racconto dei racconti, Photo collage by Nicoleta

Visually stunning, whimsical and gloriously demented, Matteo Garrone’s Tale of Tales is based on Giambattista Basile’s 17th-century collection of fairy tales. If you haven’t watched it yet, I urge you, this lazy sunday, to give yourself 90 minutes and briefly escape into an upside-down-reality where Hansel & Gretel, the prince, the Beauty, the beast, the pauper, witches and ogres mix into a wonderful mishmash of twisted sensuality, humor and the very unsettling aftertaste of the ALMOST familiar. Dwelling in this uncanny valley of the almost familiar, like the dream you try to remember, holding on to a small residual feeling, this Xerjoff plays hide-and-seek on my skin. I don’t imply that it’s a shy fragrance, nothing could be further from QUIET or ephemeral, it’s a literal beast and ogre of a fragrance speaking on a purely technical level. But as perception goes, this fragrance has this quality of being fleeing, you can almost get a sense of what is about, then it quickly morphs into another scent, leaving you puzzled and wanting one more try and one more puff (said I, sadly looking at my now-empty-vial) The beginning is a HUGE sharp aromatic blast, a clean-shaven lavender-ed up ogre leaves the barbershop and ventures into the dark smoky woods.

Il racconto dei racconti

Not long after, the dawn comes, the sun dries the rain from damp woods surrounding the ogre. He rises and suddenly turns into the king. Zoom to the next sequence of the scent, here comes the mighty king of Strongcliff, draped in rich, burgundy velvet, royally pouting all epicurean-ly ennui-ed amidst the ball. The silver platters filled to the brim with vanilla custards, the plateaus hurting from the weight of the overly riped juicy fruits are suddenly forgotten, as she, the veiled one, enters the room and the music begins. The king, transfixed and enchanted like a fly caught in a web of magic amber forgets to breathe. Her perfume fills the room, making the air dance with every move of her veiny arms and every sway of her hips- the sweet smell of saffron, of forgotten spices worth ten times their weight in blood. You could care less that tomorrow morning she will turn into a witch, a dragon or she will eat your heart out, literally. It’s worth it.

Il racconto dei racconti
Il racconto dei racconti

And at the next frame of smell, the tale will change. I think I need more of this in my life, asap.

Top: lavender, palisander rosewood, cinnamon and apple;

Middle: lily-of-the-valley, rose and cedar;

Base: amber, musk, agarwood (oud), sandalwood and vanilla.


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