I remember it bringing me back to 18th century France that was covered by smell so bad that modern society can't even imagine it.
The city that smelled worst was Paris, the capital. The streets smelled of garbage, yards of fresh urine, staircases of rat poo, kitchens of sheep fat, bedrooms of greasy sheets, fireplaces of sulfur and stale blood. People smelled like their clothes was never washed, their teeth and mouth like they were rotten, their bodies smelled of old cheese, sour milk and diseased glands. Everything stank, rivers, city squares, and the worst smell was under the bridges and inside the castles. Everyone in the nobility stank, and even the king smelled like a bird of pray and the queen like an old goat, the smell that stayed the same during the summers and the winters.
A man was born. A man that was said to had been obsessed, because it didn't stink of horse dung, old apples and onions.
His birth brought the change in history of France and made Paris, once one of the stinkiest cities in the world, the center of fragrant art with the crown that says - Frederic Malle, Musc Ravageur.
