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The man with the pipe and beard at the Christmas market...
Burberry... Two things come to mind spontaneously: a beige cashmere scarf with a vintage check and the beige Burberry trench coat "Kensington". In my generation these were for a long time two status symbols of the autumn/winter season. And exactly at this time "London for Men" fits perfectly. As soon as the temperatures approach zero and the first Christmas markets invite you to take a walk, it's time for the scent of Burberry, who himself wears a small plaid winter coat. But there is one thing this scent needs in any case: fresh air, a scarf, sturdy shoes and best of all a wool coat, as the scent loves to lay on well dressed walkers. It underlines the chic winter/Christmas outfit outdoors.
The fragrance is first of all a woody Christmas bomb for me: this peppery yet pointy-cinnamon paired with a slightly lavender bergamot immediately gives me the winter/Christmas flash. The spice stand comes to mind, where spice blends lie in baskets ready for the next bottling. Not far away, a tea-room that offers warm apple juice with cinnamon. And for a healthy self the so called "witch stand" with all kinds of mixed herbs and spices. However, the smell of lavender, which hangs from the tent's tarpaulin in the form of dried twigs and which, according to a saleswoman, is said to lead to better sleep under the pillow, stands out.
After a few metres of strolling I only now perceive the heart and base notes of the fragrance: leather, port wine, bark and tobacco. These notes are so beautifully interwoven and give me a warm, pleasant feeling. This very Christmas feeling. My gaze is directed towards the mulled wine stand at the end of the alley. The scent of warm wine and fine spices fills my nose. I enter the small forecourt on which the mulled wine merchant's construction wagon stands and easily stumble. A man leaning against one of the bar tables grabs my arm and prevents me from finding myself on the floor to the left. Even if the bark mulch lying spread out on the ground would have cushioned my fall, I can do without it. So this is where the smell of wood must come from. The older man with beard and chubby cheeks warmed by mulled wine looks at me with a smile. He takes his pipe, decorated with bird motifs, out of his mouth and blows the smoke with relish. For a moment I no longer see the man with the beard. But now it smells of warm pipe tobacco. After this tobacco smell we all like. He speaks to me: Who were you dreaming about? Who he the Santa Claus?
The fragrance is first of all a woody Christmas bomb for me: this peppery yet pointy-cinnamon paired with a slightly lavender bergamot immediately gives me the winter/Christmas flash. The spice stand comes to mind, where spice blends lie in baskets ready for the next bottling. Not far away, a tea-room that offers warm apple juice with cinnamon. And for a healthy self the so called "witch stand" with all kinds of mixed herbs and spices. However, the smell of lavender, which hangs from the tent's tarpaulin in the form of dried twigs and which, according to a saleswoman, is said to lead to better sleep under the pillow, stands out.
After a few metres of strolling I only now perceive the heart and base notes of the fragrance: leather, port wine, bark and tobacco. These notes are so beautifully interwoven and give me a warm, pleasant feeling. This very Christmas feeling. My gaze is directed towards the mulled wine stand at the end of the alley. The scent of warm wine and fine spices fills my nose. I enter the small forecourt on which the mulled wine merchant's construction wagon stands and easily stumble. A man leaning against one of the bar tables grabs my arm and prevents me from finding myself on the floor to the left. Even if the bark mulch lying spread out on the ground would have cushioned my fall, I can do without it. So this is where the smell of wood must come from. The older man with beard and chubby cheeks warmed by mulled wine looks at me with a smile. He takes his pipe, decorated with bird motifs, out of his mouth and blows the smoke with relish. For a moment I no longer see the man with the beard. But now it smells of warm pipe tobacco. After this tobacco smell we all like. He speaks to me: Who were you dreaming about? Who he the Santa Claus?
Parfumatus
