2 reviews for Parfum Privé Aftelier

1. 

   ttm072Negeltzex – 2022-06-23:

   3 out of 5

   The vocabulary of luxury emphasizes its value as an indicator over its significance as an experience. Handbags, wristwatches, cars and the like. Lavishness as social weaponry. This dogmatic perspective on luxury is nothing new. In fact, I only bring it up because Aftel’s ambergris-based Parfum Privé brings the focus of luxury back to experience, to pleasure.
   Underlining the most extravagant floral essences, indolic orange blossom and the delicate peach-tea of osmanthus, ambergris gives the perfume a sumptuousness, an easy opulence. Ambergris is the Beluga caviar of perfume. Exotic, lush, rare, legendary. Like Beluga, ambergris’s scarcity makes it costly. Both are symbols of affluence, but unlike Beluga, Ambergris isn’t an acquired taste. At least not in Mandy Aftel’s hands.
   I understand the subjectivity of beauty but Parfum Privé feels universally sultry and lush. I cannot imagine someone finding it anything but appealing. Ambergris and Aftel are a perfect match. She presents perfume as modern alchemy and ambergris is one of the mystical fragrant materials. It famously stops the clock on more volatile materials. Aftel uses it to extends the life of the florals and give the perfume a lankiness, a drawl that seems to slow time. The perfume is hypersaturated, the theoretical 110%.
   Today is the first day of Daylight Saving Time, a trick of the clock that grants a 25th hour to this special day. I have time and I’m in no rush. Parfum Privé is a perfect fit to the day.
   (from scenthurdle.com)
2. 

   ki88ka – 2022-06-23:

   5 out of 5

   I admit I’ve approached Parfum Privé – my first venture into Mandy Aftel’s work – in a bit of a awe for a brand and a fragrance that are mostly praised in the world of perfumery and, more specifically, in that of natural perfumery. Needless to say I am actually almost new to this field, my fragrant exploration being mostly limited so far to “chemically” made compositions, so I was both extremely curious and afraid. Curious to discover something totally new to me, and afraid of realizing I don’t like totally natural fragrances – or they don’t like me, which is always a possibility.
   The idea of scents created by using only the purest and rarest materials implies in my mind that these fragrances must be full of nuances, almost magical and utterly inspiring.. that’s what I was expecting from Parfum Privé.
   This perfume extract surprised me quite a bit when I first tried it: where I imagined an exotic scented landscape somehow close to many others by reading the composition – with the usual inventory of luscious flowers and succulent fruits – I found instead the overly realistic representation of an islander nature, rich on wild vegetation complete with blooming petals, buds and leaves.
   Wearing Parfum Privé provides indeed the vivid impression of wandering through a summery land at just one mile away from the seaside, a place initially immersed in a radiant warmth that slowly turns shadowy, humid and opaque as the sun goes down.
   The naturalness of this juice, at least for me, lies in the suffused and oily texture, in the lack of any catchy embellishments, in the almost medicinal effect provided by the high concentration of ingredients that’s mainly evident in the first stages, where the rough beauty of the extracts might feel shocking and/or enchanting to an unprepared wearer.
   The opening offers immediately the dry and quite virile spiciness of pepper, made gentler by a hint of bergamot mixed with something I could describe as herbal and leafy; during my first sampling I instinctively and deeply inhaled the fragrance from my wrist, and I was surprised at how the tickling spiciness was pleasant to breath.
   The passage from top notes to the floral heart is perfectly gradual, and I guess osmanthus is responsible for the dewy fruity undertone that links the sharp aspects of pepper and citrusy notes to the sultriest, more strictly feminine core of the fragrance: here orange blossom plays undeniably the role of main character, luminous and sensually damp, enriching the composition with a depth I have never experienced so far with white florals. It’s much like feeling on my skin the warmth of sun and the shivers given by nocturnal air in the very same moment.
   The intoxicating but somehow polite aura given by the orange blossom gets darker and more profound as ambergris makes its entrance, slowly unveiling its animalic quality that gets more and more evident in the last hours of wearing before fading into a delicate, skin-like smell.
   This is probably the first time I smell real ambergris, and I can’t help but being amazed at how different it is from the “amber” note I am more familiar with and that characterizes many of my fragrances: there’s no resinous sweetness at the base of this extract, instead it’s all suffused with an intense vapor of smoky, savory muskiness (the ambrette seeds maybe?) that reminds me of some Eastern temple immersed in a forest. I guess those who are curious about authentic ambergris should be testing Parfum Privé and make their own idea about this most precious ingredient before it disappears from the palette of perfumers, for a reason or another.
   I would add longevity is pretty good given the naturalness of the composition, and sillage is close to skin after half a hour.
   This is a fragrance that loves to talk its own language and reveals itself only to those who are patient to listen, it doesn’t make compromises, and although it might not be not the easiest to understand for someone who’s not into natural perfumery – like me – it’s nonetheless worth the path to get amazed at its untamed and quite bold personality.
   (Sample kindly sent me by Mandy Aftel).