Quiproquo Grès 1976

A "tactile" fragrance that I feel I can almost touch. An old, crumbling wall, where ivy trails down in long streams, behind it a "Spanish garden" where citrus fruits ripen, interspersed with cedars and Spanish firs, whose pointed, spiky branches jut out prominently. Below, various herbs, basil, sage, lavender, and several more. Boxwoods, trimmed into large spheres, radiate their herbaceous-green and mysterious scent most delightfully in the afternoon after rain. Just like the ivy, which has an almost resinous aroma. Green, woody, and sharply defined, like an old snapshot in Agfa color. The secret of the Grès fragrance lies, among other things, in the very subtle way the flowers have been used. A rather spicy dog rose comes in as a splash of color amidst all that woody-citrusy green. Together with the delicate, blue iris, lying like a veil over everything.
A "strange" yet familiar déjà vu creeps in on silent feet. Where have I smelled something similar before? And in what context?
Perhaps on one of the many mini-golf courses I have had the pleasure of visiting? They often feature the most beautiful and quirky plantings, according to the tastes of the respective club members.
I think of Kelheim in Bavaria. The city so mysterious and ancient, ivy-covered walls and tree trunks included. And the mini-golf course, filled with rather old trees, on which that very ivy climbs. And boxwoods, "islands," adorned with all sorts of herbs and flowers.
A spontaneous memory is usually the right one. Just no lemon trees to be found.
A wonderful, very unsweet and herbaceous-green chypre!