Zino Davidoff 1986 Eau de Toilette

Carefully, he pushed the Z-51's warp control to 1982.
A gentle jolt was the result; little else seemed to
happen. He leaned back in the medium-comfort leather seat
and took a few peanuts from the
medium excitingly designed center console.
Almost three years now he had been doing this job. Still
still for the same money, still with no discernible
Career prospects. And without any prospect of a little
Fame. Not even a new Timeglider they gave him,
the sleek Z91c or at least the Z71 No, still that old cucumber.
And now this not-so-easy assignment.
"Get ZINO out," had been the terse order on the
self-destructing coaster had only read. "There is imminent
Danger to the scent peace!"
And he knew what that meant.
It wasn't the first time he'd done it, after all.
Which is why he also knew that this ZINO was not an easy
Case.
The landing went reasonably smoothly, only the exact
Time he could not read, because the on-board clock was already
been stuck for a long time, it only showed the season - autumn.
The landing point was well chosen - he hid the Z-51
behind a holler bush and switched on the camouflage optics.
Shortly after, he strolled casually down a small shopping street
dressed in a red crumpled coat
and fringed boots. Well, rather 70s, the outfitting
for time agents wasn't what it used to be either.
Fortunately, he had a by means of sources, which may not yet
a dossier that would help him find ZINO to help him find ZINO Faster than expected he found the discotheque "Marquis",
over which lay the small apartment - ZINO's secret
Lair in this angle of time.
Across the backyard to the stairwell, first floor, briefly ear
to the door, silently and quickly open the lock - routine.
And then inside. Two rooms. Quickly checked.
Out flew the bird.
He basically didn't expect it any other way.
But - its smell was still in the air. And that was worth a lot.
He had studied him long enough to recognize his components
quickly. There were clearly elements of the fruity
spicy opening, but which already betrayed a hint of dark
Rose, also of rosewood betrayed. And now, here in 82,
there was also a hint of a bitter note that had been
announced to him at headquarters as "camel to camel sweat-related"
had announced. He had thought it exaggerated and
thought it theatrically exaggerated even now. Yes, there was something tender
bitter, but still nothing really animal. On the contrary -
he even detected a barbershop vibe, not ostensibly,
but playing in the whole, marked by lavender and well
balanced bergamot. ZINO seemed even more unusual to him,
than he had expected - he played around confidently, gave himself
simultaneously as oriental and British in the sense of woody,
Vintage spicy gentleman's club atmosphere. Loose.
And worldly. Yes that was the word.
And its basic character transformed not unusual
Plants - patchouli, sandalwood, cedar, some vetiver -
into a unique, soft-spicy aura that from somewhere
received some sweetness. Where exactly - that remained guessing, but
this slightly sweet-powdery elegance was his real
Secret weapon. With terms like benzoin or tonka not so
easy to explain. As so often was here the whole more
than the sum of the individual parts.
Only, alas, none of this helped.
He had to find it somehow.

Quite perplexed, he stood on the street again.
Then someone tapped him on the shoulder from behind.
Cautiously, he turned around - and grinned.
He had suspected that they might send someone else after him
might send someone else after them, but not so fast.
And not them.
It was Barbie Q - who, though she hadn't long been a permanent time agent
worked for headquarters, but was considered a badass.
As a free agent, he had dealt with her before.
Black leather catsuit with wide schoolster pads,
white Fiorucci shoes and aerobic ankle warmers.
Looked good on her.
"Hi Stanley...good to see you."
"Hi Barbie..."
She smelled like Cuir de Russie, perfectly blended with some
Rostbratwurst.
"You didn't do a bad job on your last one," he said.
She gave him one of her famous pearly smiles.
"Thank you!"
For 2 months she had infiltrated the Ifra and gotten
out alive out alive. And with valuable information at that.
All at once she ran her nose up to his neck, waved
over it, first one side, then the other, back again -
it took a minute at most. Or maybe two.
Three at the most.
"Aramis 900..." she said, "taste you have."

"Can I see her papers?"
They hadn't even noticed him, the uniformed man who
who now stood brawnily in front of them. He began with Stanley.
"Name?"
"My name is Drauf. Stanley Drauf."
"How nice for you to be on it all the time..."
"Joker!"
Stanley would have loved to have given him a couple of doubles
right then and there ...right then and there. But the guy looked a bit burly. And of course.. ...he sensed right away that this wasn't a real cop Fake stitching on the pants, telltale laces. Lousy
Fake Oak Moss Smell. Fortunately, these Ifra agents
in some ways no smarter than crispbread.
And then it all happened very quickly.
In a flash, Barbie sprayed some Kouros in
the bull's face Face, and he slumped right over.
"There - he's got him in the car!" she shouted, and also rushed
away.
She was good, unfortunately.
In a few seconds they had freed ZINO and were
back at the Z-51, which was a broken shopping cart.. filled with empty paint cans.
The ride back was pleasant, as the Z-51 was rather cramped.
Barely back in the present, together they produced the
Scent Dossier for Headquarters:
"ZINO profile note normal zero/present time:
Bergamot notes underpinned by dark roses,
some lavender and sage freshen up, a bit quieter in the
Entry than in the return year, but not weak.
Soon first orientalism in its very own way.
Sandalwood and cedar softness.
With patch and vanilla everything melts into a tart-sweet,
almost buttery aura, timelessly cosy and unsubtle-cosy.
A distinctive character. More sexy than sedated.
ZINO lives!"

"Not bad..." said #2, as they
presented, "really not bad."
And now that was really the highest praise that
was to be had.
"Makes a good impression, the boy..." he added,
"not exactly modern, almost old-fashioned, but still good..."
"Few things are so old-fashioned as the desire,
to be modern," Stanley murmured. But only very quietly,
because he didn't want to jeopardize his planned luxury vacation.. he didn't want to jeopardize his planned luxury vacation with Barbie Q. He already knew exactly where it
he knew exactly where to go. He knew of an adventure pool in the Sauerland.
With artificial elder bushes. Decadent on the lounger
...get some fries... ...massage Barbie's neck with Vol de Nuit.. sipping fizzy drinks.. "Stanley...?"
Number Two abruptly snapped him out of his reverie.
"Er...yes...?"
"There's a very urgent case coming in just now! Be there tomorrow
Evening at the "Mole" Inn. Anything else on beer mat!",
number Two snapped him out of his reverie in a metallic voice.
"But I wanted..."
"Nothing but! It's about the western world as we
know it. I'm just saying mu... no, I'd rather not say anything,
who knows if even here the walls don't have ears..."
Barbie gently poked Stanley in the side.
"It's okay, Number Two, he'll be there!"