Keig Castle Forbes

Whoever lets hospital cleaners and cleaning agents touch their skin, throw the first stone.

Here... I..., I do it, give me a stone.

Recently, I rushed from perfume shop to perfume shop for an entire morning to see (to smell) what old and new fragrances are available. On that day, I must have been a very ungrateful customer. Everything smelled "just OK," "comparable," "mass-market," "somehow nice," and "artificial." On such days, you need a bit of distance. So off to the little Italian espresso bar. Two espressos and a croissant with apricot jam later, the world was a better place again. And then there’s this one very small, owner-operated fragrance shop. In this store, the customer can still find something that has almost been forgotten today. An older, dedicated consultant who takes the time to listen to you. (You out there behind your counters, heed these words!). We’ve known each other for a while. She sees me, nods, smiles briefly, and lets me be for now. (Thank you). Since I have already purchased five Castle Forbes fragrances from her and she knows my preference for trying niche fragrances, she places a silk tissue sprayed with Keig on the table and gestures briefly at it with her finger. I had avoided this fragrance for almost a year. Of course, there was that citrusy yellow-green note. She said, "Take your time." Go do your errands and come back later when the top note has settled. I did just that. (Two more espressos). In the end, I took the tissue and smelled it. Then a spritz on the skin. And don’t smell right away,... wait. People always smell too quickly, she said.
I was surprised to perceive how soft and subtly woody Keig can be. Today, a bottle of it stands as the sixth in my collection on my bathroom shelf. Now it belongs to me, you understand...? "To me," because "I" think it’s good.

Cheers and warm regards to "my" consultant.