On the recommendation of Burberry (Junior), I was to visit his old man Burberrys at his house in Belgravia, London. I had met Burberry (Junior) some time ago in a Berlin nightclub (admittedly, he was quite tipsy and even harder to understand!) and took the opportunity to ask about the whereabouts of his old man. So the Junior arranged an audience with the old Burberrys in London Belgravia. I was excited. I was going to meet a legend. Finally! My taxi dropped me off in front of the imposing entrance, and after I managed to climb the huge staircase to the entrance (which probably resembles a castle gate), I reached for the door knocker. Knock knock knock.
After what felt like an eternity, an ancient, somewhat senile butler let me in (he first led me into a storage room until he realized his mistake) and draped me in a gigantic salon (from the Thirties? of the 17th century?).
And then HE came!
Burberrys in full life size! Elegant in a light gray double-breasted suit with a jacket (unfortunately with an overly bright green tie - British, after all) and - (oh dear) - with brown house slippers! (Ugh, what a turn-off for my awe). Gray, almost white hair without even a thinning spot (envy!). On his sharply drawn face, a very dominant graying mustache.
Burberrys: You, uh, are?
me: R. from DE. I am pleased to meet you, Sir.
(He gives me a firm nuanced handshake - just before the pain threshold. Now he reminds me more of an old British colonial colonel.)
Burberrys: Uh, yes... Mr. R from DE. My ah Junior has already announced you. Please - uh - sit down.
Would you like a drink? I have an excellent - uh - mint liqueur here?
(Without waiting for an answer from me, he turns to the door) Arthur? Arthur... Bring this - uh - gentleman a glass of the '81 - you know - uh uh -.
I: Thank you very much, Sir. May I ask you something?
Burberrys: Uh, sure, Mr. N?
I: No R., Sir! How did the S at the end of your name come about?
Burberrys: Ah... In the time when I was still a bit more active, it was considered -uh- noble to extend one's family name with this letter - uh uh -. Today it basically only stands for "Senior".
(Or for senile, forms in my head. Arthur comes in and sets down two huge glasses, in which a puddle of green stuff swirls)
Burberrys: Thank you, Arthur.
(turning to me)
Burberrys: Cheers, Mr. M.
I: Cheers, Sir.
(Urgh.. Mint and - wait, juniper?)
I: This is quite good, Sir!
(Lie!)
Burberrys: Yes, isn't it? It is made exclusively for me by a very well-known liqueur manufacturer - uh-. Did you occasionally - uh - know that I have a - uh - very respectable garden?
I: No. Are you a hobby gardener?
(How boring. British cliché fulfilled!)
Burberrys: Oh, I wouldn't go that far. I have very capable gardeners who cultivate a - uh - select variety of plants under my guidance - uh-.. But see for yourself, Mr. - uh - F.
(He rises and leads me to a large glass door that opens into a park-like garden. My gaze falls on a branched tree with fleshy leaves)
Burberrys: Beautiful, isn't it? This sandalwood tree from - uh - Ceylon. Isn't it a gem? I was honored to receive it from His Excellency the King. Back when - uh - Ceylon still belonged to us... The good old days indeed.
I: How right you are, Sir.
(Flattery)
I: You also have a herb corner, as I can't help but notice?
(Corner is no expression: A field full of lavender, pepper plants, and juniper bushes. Well, where the pepper grows...)
Burberrys: You can't do without it these days - uh -. Basically, I cultivate the best lavender plants in the world - uh uh -.
I: And in between juniper?
(A probing look over the curling mustache falls on me like a ton of mercury)
Burberry: What do you mean - uh? Juniper? That's for gin... I - uh - like to have a gin now and then and let my ration be distilled here - uh - a habit from my - uh - military days.
(So indeed: A colonial colonel and a drunkard to boot! Probably already in India during Queen Victoria's time)
I: And back there? The little corner with the carnations, roses, marjoram, jasmine?
(A critical look sweeps over me. The left eyebrow arches up)
Burberrys: My gardener said it would fit color-wise into the - uh - picture. Doesn't it fit, Mr. - uh - ?
I: Yes, yes. Wonderful. It rounds off the garden.
Burberrys: Let's go back inside. I have a - uh - lounge there.
(We go back into his palace and through a few corridors into a much smaller dark room)
Burberrys: Please - uh - have a seat. The leather armchairs are still from my time in - uh - India...
(So indeed: a colonial uncle! On the other hand: Nice furniture, pleasant smell, and comfortable to boot.)
I: You were in India? How interesting. It must have been warm there..
(I couldn't have asked him anything more stupid. India and warm - Does the bear shit in the woods?)
Burberrys: You wouldn't - uh - believe how warm! I was also in Russia, after the - uh - Crimean War. There I hunted musk animals. A whole different - uh - climate. Do you see those little funny heads over there by the - uh uh - fireplace? I shot all of them - uh -.
(Oops, a small animal killer too. I need to get out of here...)
I: Looking at the time, Sir, please tell me why you have withdrawn.
(A sad look from dachshund eyes sweeps over me, a twitch around the mustache... Nanana, is the old man getting sentimental?)
Burberrys: Uh, you know, the - uh - times have become so fast-paced. No one has time anymore to devote themselves - uh - to the nicer sides of life. Even - uh - you, Mr. D, look - uh - very often at your - uh - timepiece. This - uh - eternal hustle and bustle does not suit me - uh - and is not compatible with my dignity - uh -.
I said goodbye to the old Burberrys, not without feeling a bit sorry for him, the great old man. A bit crazy, excitable, and out of touch with the times, but in his time he was fully on top.
I like him. And maybe he will dare to step out of his palace again - hopefully without a gun.
Top Notes 
Juniper
Bergamot
Lavender
Mint
Tarragon
Heart Notes 
Jasmine
Marjoram
Pepper
Carnation
Cedar
Patchouli
Rose
Sandalwood
Vetiver
Base Notes 
Amber
Leather
Musk
Civet
Myrrh
Oakmoss
ChicoRoch1
ClemensJ
Yatagan
