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04/24/2021
Ponticus
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Ponticus
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Of dreams and fantasies!
I like to dream, and often! In perhaps imagined support of this, I like to go to bed in the evening with a spray of perfume. Remembering the good blog "Are our noses raised gender-specific" by the nice lady behind LS5 on the topic "Heteronormativity in the perfume world", I decided to choose with Cašmir by Chopard once again a women's fragrance. Foolhardy I risked two strong spritzes and fell asleep briskly as usual.
Sometime during the night, it was still dark anyway, I heard a loud rumble and noticed a yellow, rather bright light on my nightstand. Dimly, I see a flashing gold something lightly tumbling, like a leaf in the wind, descending upon it. This, for me, flying saucer resembled the Cašmir bottle exactly. Suddenly I hear excited voices grumbling from a somewhat musty smelling fragrance cloud to my ear.
"What a bummer, what bad luck we've been having lately."
"That's what you say, but don't get excited."
"Like hell! We've got to make a good first impression here at the front, find the right target and head for it, while the base gives orders from behind and has a good time. Where did we even land?"
"Hello you little ghosts" I hear myself say! "What are you guys doing here and why does it smell so weird?"
"Same thing every time" it burbles back, "when I brake the load of coconuts always crash against each other, some burst and then steam out. I throw them out right away, the old ripe fruit too, and spray some fresh, then it smells a lot better and we can talk."
Indeed, it soon smells tart-fruity peach and also already intense, sweet-spicy vanilla. Together they push the slightly musty coconut macaroon note into the background. At the same time, a dark, earthy-floral warm feeling comes up.
"Well so better the Lord," it nags me.
"Of course" I reply, "but what are you doing here."
"We are looking for a new wearer, perhaps a fine lady or a confident gal of character who will value us and where we can develop to our full potential."
"I can't help with that. The only lady here is my wife and she doesn't like little green men or cute ones like you. How about a man, then?"
"Probably gone mad!" growls gruffly all round.
"We don't care for men at all, those hairy beasts. Either they pour some fresh, aquatic, green-herbaceous broth over us and we perish miserably. Or they fill us with oud-heavy, resinous smoke and we suffocate in the fumes. No, we want nothing to do with men."
Such was the raging excitement, especially at the base as well, that, even for a foodie like me, the onset of vanilla-amber sweetness turned out to be a bit threatening for a moment. The threat was unfounded, however, as the balsamic woods velvety-bind the strong vanilla, the patchouli adds texture, and the musk does its part to give the mystical vanilla an oriental-erotic flair.
"No women there Captain! Now how do we get out of this mess?"
"All cargo off the ship, lose weight, woods, vanilla and the other stuff gone!"
The fragrance thus gains in heaviness and depth. Quiet then prevails for quite a while, and I subconsciously enjoy the pleasant, straightforward austerity of this lush, sweet-woody vanilla before curmudgeonly sounds come to me again.
"Bottle finally clear" blurts out an excited voice, "we're smelling off!".
All my attempts to hold her, change her mind and try me came to naught.
I felt a comforting warmth when I opened my eyes after what felt like eight hours. The Cašmir bottle was on the bedside cabinet, the golden dome lay beside it, and the vanilla scent on me was still omnipresent. Unconsciously, I heard rapidly fading, still slightly grumbling voices. With the firm resolution to show it to these little rascals once, I started cheerfully and with a few splashes of Cašmir on my neck and the crook of my arm into a fragrant day!
Many thanks for the dreamy ride to unfamiliar shores!
Sometime during the night, it was still dark anyway, I heard a loud rumble and noticed a yellow, rather bright light on my nightstand. Dimly, I see a flashing gold something lightly tumbling, like a leaf in the wind, descending upon it. This, for me, flying saucer resembled the Cašmir bottle exactly. Suddenly I hear excited voices grumbling from a somewhat musty smelling fragrance cloud to my ear.
"What a bummer, what bad luck we've been having lately."
"That's what you say, but don't get excited."
"Like hell! We've got to make a good first impression here at the front, find the right target and head for it, while the base gives orders from behind and has a good time. Where did we even land?"
"Hello you little ghosts" I hear myself say! "What are you guys doing here and why does it smell so weird?"
"Same thing every time" it burbles back, "when I brake the load of coconuts always crash against each other, some burst and then steam out. I throw them out right away, the old ripe fruit too, and spray some fresh, then it smells a lot better and we can talk."
Indeed, it soon smells tart-fruity peach and also already intense, sweet-spicy vanilla. Together they push the slightly musty coconut macaroon note into the background. At the same time, a dark, earthy-floral warm feeling comes up.
"Well so better the Lord," it nags me.
"Of course" I reply, "but what are you doing here."
"We are looking for a new wearer, perhaps a fine lady or a confident gal of character who will value us and where we can develop to our full potential."
"I can't help with that. The only lady here is my wife and she doesn't like little green men or cute ones like you. How about a man, then?"
"Probably gone mad!" growls gruffly all round.
"We don't care for men at all, those hairy beasts. Either they pour some fresh, aquatic, green-herbaceous broth over us and we perish miserably. Or they fill us with oud-heavy, resinous smoke and we suffocate in the fumes. No, we want nothing to do with men."
Such was the raging excitement, especially at the base as well, that, even for a foodie like me, the onset of vanilla-amber sweetness turned out to be a bit threatening for a moment. The threat was unfounded, however, as the balsamic woods velvety-bind the strong vanilla, the patchouli adds texture, and the musk does its part to give the mystical vanilla an oriental-erotic flair.
"No women there Captain! Now how do we get out of this mess?"
"All cargo off the ship, lose weight, woods, vanilla and the other stuff gone!"
The fragrance thus gains in heaviness and depth. Quiet then prevails for quite a while, and I subconsciously enjoy the pleasant, straightforward austerity of this lush, sweet-woody vanilla before curmudgeonly sounds come to me again.
"Bottle finally clear" blurts out an excited voice, "we're smelling off!".
All my attempts to hold her, change her mind and try me came to naught.
I felt a comforting warmth when I opened my eyes after what felt like eight hours. The Cašmir bottle was on the bedside cabinet, the golden dome lay beside it, and the vanilla scent on me was still omnipresent. Unconsciously, I heard rapidly fading, still slightly grumbling voices. With the firm resolution to show it to these little rascals once, I started cheerfully and with a few splashes of Cašmir on my neck and the crook of my arm into a fragrant day!
Many thanks for the dreamy ride to unfamiliar shores!
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