Cuir Béluga Guerlain 2005 Eau de Parfum

When love makes you addicted, destroys you - or at least your wallet - and you just don’t care.
I need more of this heroin!

Fraport 2017:
As always, just before departure, I’m browsing the shops, much to my boyfriend's dismay, and especially through row after row of perfumes. It’s one of my first flights abroad and we don’t have much time.
Unmistakably, on the other side of the room, brightly shining - or brightly illuminated - is a row of perfumes.
From x meters away, I can tell: something special is standing there.
These things that you crush with your fingers, which then make a “pfft pfft” sound and where the perfume comes out, I had only seen in movies and otherwise only in a display case.

My boyfriend: Can we please go? I don’t want to miss the flight!
Me: (sweetest pout ever) BUT! It won’t take long. I promise! (hurry over to this setup where they have all sorts of boxes with fun contents: white leather that you can stroke and feels incredibly soft and much more)
I blindly grab one of the bottles, which all look the same anyway, and just spray away. Over my head, onto my scarf, and on my wrist. Quite impractical, this pfft-pfft thing.
My boyfriend, who had come over to urge me to leave: Oh crap, what is THAT?!
Me, already regretting not having looked for a test strip: Sorry? But it smells soooo delicious in here :((. I love vanilla!
He: No, it smells great! But come on, let’s go, you’ve dawdled too long again! (pulls me by the arm through the store)
I try to spot a name or a price tag while walking, but it’s in vain.
We didn’t miss the flight.
On the way back, however, we can’t go back to THAT store. I sulk a little, my boyfriend sulking with me.
He: Well, you already have enough perfumes, but... if I had to name ONE perfume that smells like YOU and HOW you smell, it would be the one you wore on the outbound flight. This unbelievably sweet stuff that you can’t hate because it’s so cute and sweet.
Yes. I am a little sweet tooth. But I was a bit offended by his comment. After all, I’m more than cute and sweet. Whatever.
I try to forget it.
I don’t even know its name.

A few weeks later...
One of my perfumes (Prada “Candy”, the EDT) is empty. After Lacoste “Pour Femme”, finally the second one, so according to my own rule, a new perfume can finally be bought.
So I buy a dupe of Lacoste “Pour Femme” because I haven’t found one for the other and after the vacation, my account is yawningly empty.
It doesn’t make me happy. I can’t forget that one perfume. I don’t want to live without it, I have to at least test it one more time! Maybe I won’t like the smell anymore?
Three weeks later, I stand there and make the decision. This one decision that should change everything forever: I’m now going to search for that perfume, that dream of vanilla with that “pfft-pfft thing”.
I spend six hours on it and I’m already losing interest, plus I’m hungry and my feet hurt.
I’ve been to all the drugstores and perfumeries here and have only seen one perfume with “pfft-pfft thing” and that was nowhere near comparable to the sweet lightness that had accompanied me during my flight from Frankfurt (and lingered on my scarf for a few days longer, I literally inhaled the scent with my nose until it was gone).
Meh ://.
I, shy in front of strangers, gather my courage and ask the very competent and friendly-looking perfume saleswoman.
She can’t make anything of my description but gives me a tip.
She: If you think it’s something special, why don’t you try Mrs. [Name]! She has very exquisite and niche fragrances. If you don’t find anything with her, then nowhere.
So I set off on the search.
I step into this store, hidden in an old building, and feel intimidated. It looks expensive here.
An elegantly dressed and beautifully made-up woman in her 30s greets me and wants to help me.
I gesture “the pfft-pfft thing” and tell her I’m looking for a sweet vanilla scent.
She, smiling: Oh, you mean the boutique scents from Guerlain with the pump sprayers?
I, inwardly: That sounds expensive. Oh oh.
She leads me into a room and there they are, those beautiful bottles.
That’s them! Yay!
The lady starts to talk and talk, pulls out violet test strips with golden letters, and with the first spray, I realize: “THAT’S IT! Yes!”
She explains the components to me, shows me other scents from this edition, Tonka Impériale for example, which goes in a similar direction, but “it” is not...
I’m mentally elsewhere.
The price of €220 brings me back to reality.
No, unfortunately, it doesn’t come in a smaller size.
I need to think about it.
I don’t have €220 left in my account.
I’m dejected, drive home. There stands my piggy bank, counting the money. €186 and a few cents.
Actually, I’m currently saving for a bike.
I transfer the money from the piggy bank into a clutch, pack it up. No, I’m not going to do that. I’m going to rethink this right away. I can’t do this!
The next day, I go to the bank and want to exchange the money. That costs fees. Nope. I stop by work, ask the boss if he needs small change in the cash register. He exchanges €60 for me.
I go to dm, buy something, and ask if it’s okay if I give her more money in coins and she gives me back big money. I’m lucky.
I go to the perfumery and head straight for the boutique scents.
The saleswoman: Blablabla.
Me: Thanks, but I already know I want to buy this one.
At the cash register, I pull out about €100 in bills and the rest in €1 and €2 coins. The saleswoman has to first get the key for the cash register. Normally, people pay with credit cards.
While I sort the coins into stacks of €10 and €20, I consider running away and not buying the perfume. I find it all quite embarrassing and think about my account balance. Ouch!

But in the end, I buy it, this luxury in a bottle - and at the same time feel shabby and miserable and yet so incredibly intoxicated.
This powdery dream of vanilla is underlaid with floral impressions, but consists mainly for me of vanilla, vanilla, and the very best vanilla ever!
Cuir Beluga is a bit heavy (probably due to the patchouli), a little smoky(?), but not musty.
No, this sweetness needs something to stay grounded, so that no one, following a Russian proverb, gets their butt stuck while enjoying it.
Cuir Beluga doesn’t smell like leather to me; this is how angels should smell!
And me. Almost daily by now.
At first, I only wore Cuir Beluga on special occasions.
But now I wear it almost every day because every day can be a special day - and I celebrate love with it.
The love for life, for vanilla, and for myself!