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Notes07/22/2018
Meggi
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Meggi
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54
No return for Mr Knöselmann
"What about you? Are you all right?"
The seller's voice was filled with the kind of sympathy businessmen feel when they see a collapse - or worse! - in her posh boutique of all places. In fact, Donato Ducatelli remembered with shudders an experience from his time as head of the Munich branch of Giorgio Beinabi. An obese opera diva had collapsed in front of a stand with silk underwear and was still different on the spot. The Technical Relief Agency had to move in and remove the door in order to transport it away. The incident had been talk of the town for weeks and food for the gossipostills.
Today's customer was certainly anything but prominent. Within seconds, Ducatelli's connoisseur's eye had recognized this from the simple habitus. Besides, he kept asking, "How much is it?" So please - who cares about that? Nevertheless: Should this one suddenly nip off, it wouldn't be good...
Indeed, Hubert Knöselmann had felt uncomfortable from the beginning. If his wife had not insisted that he finally needed a decent suit as the new head of the accounting department at the Offenbein & Partner medical supply store, he would not have set foot in a Zegna studio
While he had listened and nodded well to lectures on fabrics and cuts, his discomfort was constantly swollen. The aforementioned suit alone had required the release of all financial reserves. Only it hadn't stayed that way. But there was no turning back, because the salesman had assured him with pity that such a suit without the right accompanying equipment would not work at all. Nod.
In the face of fate, Knöselmann had from then on precisely calculated the financing with practiced professionalism. The unavoidable changes to the good part would be paid for by increasing the mortgage on the small terraced house. The shoes and the black leather belt were covered by a loan of the Opel Astra. Not even - it was about a tie - the prospect of vacation at the campsite Struvenhütten instead of in a guesthouse on Föhr had upset him.
However, the fact that the cash register for the always unmentioned reserve tie had automatically added an amount that promised noodles with ketchup for the Knöselmann family until September 2019 - that had pulled the floor away from under his feet and he had sunk into an armchair
"Hello! Are you all right?" Ducatelli asked again. Without further hesitation, he grabbed a cube-shaped bottle from a shelf and sprayed it into a small glass until about a finger's width of a light amber-coloured liquid was in it.
"Here, drink - this will help!"
"Brrrrr... Is that a bittersweet?"
"Not quite. This is Javanese Patchouli. A perfume, but in the first half hour Magenbitter or better Magentropfen very similar. We're going to use this curatively."
Knöselmann returned nothing more and sat there with closed eyes. At least he breathed deeply and evenly again.
"By the way, we forgot the right fragrance for your outfit. Take this one! The intensive bitter stomach phase soon passes - as I said - only fragments of it remain. Afterwards you will have to deal with a practically pure Patchouli fragrance. Bergamot delivers supporting acid in front, but no profile of its own. Powerfully earthy-sour, yet completely ungruftig, 'Javanese Patchouli' guides you dignified through a long day. At times, a touch of malty-thick, vanilla-caramel sweetness gently floats around the fragrance. Chocolate accents, out of the patchouli, round off. It's like a well-fitting suit, as you know by now. He doesn't need no tricks."
"How much is it?"
"220 Euro."
Ducatelli parried Knöselmann's suffocated whimpering with a quick: "I'll just give it to you!"
The seller's voice was filled with the kind of sympathy businessmen feel when they see a collapse - or worse! - in her posh boutique of all places. In fact, Donato Ducatelli remembered with shudders an experience from his time as head of the Munich branch of Giorgio Beinabi. An obese opera diva had collapsed in front of a stand with silk underwear and was still different on the spot. The Technical Relief Agency had to move in and remove the door in order to transport it away. The incident had been talk of the town for weeks and food for the gossipostills.
Today's customer was certainly anything but prominent. Within seconds, Ducatelli's connoisseur's eye had recognized this from the simple habitus. Besides, he kept asking, "How much is it?" So please - who cares about that? Nevertheless: Should this one suddenly nip off, it wouldn't be good...
Indeed, Hubert Knöselmann had felt uncomfortable from the beginning. If his wife had not insisted that he finally needed a decent suit as the new head of the accounting department at the Offenbein & Partner medical supply store, he would not have set foot in a Zegna studio
While he had listened and nodded well to lectures on fabrics and cuts, his discomfort was constantly swollen. The aforementioned suit alone had required the release of all financial reserves. Only it hadn't stayed that way. But there was no turning back, because the salesman had assured him with pity that such a suit without the right accompanying equipment would not work at all. Nod.
In the face of fate, Knöselmann had from then on precisely calculated the financing with practiced professionalism. The unavoidable changes to the good part would be paid for by increasing the mortgage on the small terraced house. The shoes and the black leather belt were covered by a loan of the Opel Astra. Not even - it was about a tie - the prospect of vacation at the campsite Struvenhütten instead of in a guesthouse on Föhr had upset him.
However, the fact that the cash register for the always unmentioned reserve tie had automatically added an amount that promised noodles with ketchup for the Knöselmann family until September 2019 - that had pulled the floor away from under his feet and he had sunk into an armchair
"Hello! Are you all right?" Ducatelli asked again. Without further hesitation, he grabbed a cube-shaped bottle from a shelf and sprayed it into a small glass until about a finger's width of a light amber-coloured liquid was in it.
"Here, drink - this will help!"
"Brrrrr... Is that a bittersweet?"
"Not quite. This is Javanese Patchouli. A perfume, but in the first half hour Magenbitter or better Magentropfen very similar. We're going to use this curatively."
Knöselmann returned nothing more and sat there with closed eyes. At least he breathed deeply and evenly again.
"By the way, we forgot the right fragrance for your outfit. Take this one! The intensive bitter stomach phase soon passes - as I said - only fragments of it remain. Afterwards you will have to deal with a practically pure Patchouli fragrance. Bergamot delivers supporting acid in front, but no profile of its own. Powerfully earthy-sour, yet completely ungruftig, 'Javanese Patchouli' guides you dignified through a long day. At times, a touch of malty-thick, vanilla-caramel sweetness gently floats around the fragrance. Chocolate accents, out of the patchouli, round off. It's like a well-fitting suit, as you know by now. He doesn't need no tricks."
"How much is it?"
"220 Euro."
Ducatelli parried Knöselmann's suffocated whimpering with a quick: "I'll just give it to you!"
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