Marseille Comme des Garçons 2021

On a trip through France, we stopped in Marseille. The Mediterranean old buildings basked in the sun as we drove in. Life sprouted from every corner, cars clogged the streets, and the restlessness was contagious. Due to reports of theft and violence, we hid our belongings in the car, from which we lived in the last few days away from prying eyes. We marked our parking spot on the map so we could find it again in the asphalt labyrinth.

People murmured their daily plans to each other or stumbled across the street at red lights while we hesitated to cross because we didn't want to be struck by reckless moped riders, and a green pedestrian light had no jurisdiction here. It seems to be part of the Savoir-vivre that traffic rules are merely a suggestion. The individuals who appeared sober in every way radiated a fundamental aggression, displaying their world-weariness outwardly and contemplating the next fight or hurriedly dodging potholes to avoid decorating a car hood. We took only a few pictures because pulling out the phone each time carried the risk of losing it. Yet the city was an aging sight for sore eyes and so beautiful to behold.

It was midsummer, and the imposing architecture offered refuge in its shade. Buildings rose as high as the technical progress of the time allowed. One constantly stared at the sky to avoid losing track of time in the darkened paths created by the buildings. It felt like evening all day long while trying to find one's way through the alleys. Everything within arm's reach was cloaked in graffiti. The sidewalks were worn and weary from having seen too much. At one corner, one looked down an apparently endless, straight street that curved toward the horizon, framed by ornate buildings. Thus, the French metropolis lay on its deathbed, adorned with many of these breathtaking glimpses of beauty.

An incomparable urban view, but we knew we didn’t want to spend too much time in Marseille. Not only because we didn’t feel welcome, but also because the sweat mixed with the Dove deodorant, and the shower at the next Airbnb was calling our names. Therefore, this Eau de Toilette from Comme des Garçons is probably my closest summer memory, as I have never traveled much, and I can count the sandy beaches I have visited on one hand. It is the heatstroke in the attic apartment in the midst of a concrete metropolis and the cold shower with pure soap on the deodorant-sprayed, sweaty skin. As beautiful as the namesake city, with a dirty undertone, because beneath all that beauty lies a struggle to exist.