Vero Kern

Last week I felt crappy (I suspect it had something to do with my previous Tuesday suffering but I'm not sure) so I finally ordered perfume samples from Vero Kern.
Now, I have to start somewhere else. Long time ago, I read about Djedi in Elle or some other intelligent magazine. It was described as "the driest perfume ever" and whatever it meant, it attracted me. The article referred to the reissue in the late nineties - when I already had something like taste, or at least enough of that taste thing to know that the watery flowery lemony stuff I was being given for birthdays as something, you know, youthful and girly. (The first fragrance I got on my own was Le Male but that's another story.) I didn't know that it was a limited series nor did I know that it was to be had probably only in Paris. I can't really say that Djedi obsessed me - it was just somewhere on my mind. When I started living online and messing into perfumes, I found out more. Like, that Djedi is impossible to find and that it is legendary because... well, because it is. After having read the review at Helg's, and after finding in one of her other articles that it should be that smoky leathery thing, naming other leather fragrances, of which I owned some and I decided that it might be my cup of coffee.
Well, I had a bad week so I ordered those samples from Vero.
Two out of three.
Kiki is Eau de Washing powder for me,even now, after several hours and ashower, I I feel that after diluting ita lot, I may use it as a laundry freshener but I totally cannot wear it.
Rubj is strawberries and I'll give it another look sniff someday soon.

Onda.... well, yes. Onda.
The first few minutes are horrid, there's something awfully plasticky, synthetic and I smell beans. Like, the phaseolus vulgaris plant, not cooked beans - raw, slick smell I totally don't like. Luckily, it disappears after a while and then there's burning incense, that church type of which I thought for many years that it was mold. Smoke. Ash. Only much later the leather became prominent - that salty and yet fruity something.
It's a difficult fragrance and I'll need quite some time to decide whether I can or can't live without it (I guess the the latter); one way or anoyher, it is an enriching experience to smell it.