Relax Davidoff 1990 Eau de Toilette

For this excursion please all take a flashlight with you, because we are going into the forest. Not into the typical German mixed forest, but into the, shall we say, Black Forest. To the place where only the coniferous giants grow, come with us into the dark, night-black undergrowth where ferns and mosses thrive and it is pleasantly cool even on hot summer days, because even the strongest ray of sunlight does not reach that far.

Come with me to where the humid air makes your glasses steam up -- this is his home, Davidoff's masterpiece "Relax". A mysterious magician, a beguiling magician who smells of moss, wood and even a good bit of woodruff. Who unabashedly brings vanilla into play just as we are lulling ourselves into the certainty that we have all the ingredients figured out. "Relax" continues to make hooks, because geranium and rosemary raise the flag, tonka bean, sandalwood. Galbanum comes along. Jasmine honours us, but is a little coy. For this, bergamot hits the notch.

The little Sartyr, who is also pictured on the back of the flacons, has meanwhile, appeared out of nowhere, climbed the monster scent and rides this wild animal towards darkness, deeper and deeper into the forest, where none of our flashlights will be able to follow. Sparks are flying, dark green-black sparks that smell like spruce needles, blackberries, blueberries, lichens and fir brushwood. Of forest honey and morning freshness. Of leathery autumn afternoons and the clinking breeze of winter.

We are shocked by the performance just now in the middle of the infinite silent darkness and look with open mouths, stammering associations, panting down the ingredients we thought we heard. But no matter what we think, what we say, what we mean, what we believe and wish, what we see -- none of us have understood it, again not, probably we have never understood it, got it -- and if we did, only to a certain extent at most.

Now he's gone. He's long gone. Painfully long. And it doesn't look like he's coming back again. Too bad, too bad. Though we wouldn't measure him in his giant size again. He remains a fascination. And will always remain mysterious. But maybe the "Relax" never existed and we all only dreamed about it together?