Vanilla | 28 Kayali 2018

Preliminary: I always associate fragrances with situations, people, times in my life, feelings, etc., so also this.
Kayali, interesting name, Huda's sister as head of the company, snazzy bottle and "Vanilla" in the name? Falls into my Beuteschema! So loosely distributed a few sprays on the coat. While I was now so strolling through the city, the fragrance was strangely familiar to me.
We were still small when we first met, together in a class. Have always argued with each other, until our parents were invited on a clarifying conversation. How ironic that we became friends after that. His father was from Cuba, parents later separated and we lost track of each other when it went to separate schools. At a party our paths crossed again after years, we talked all night. His father was back in Cuba, his mother remarried. We exchanged numbers, saw each other more and more often and were in constant contact, had many mutual friends. I was also often invited to his mother's for coffee, got along very well with her. He visited his father several times a year, and once brought me a bottle of perfume oil from a small Cuban drugstore. Without a label, without anything. A small glass bottle with a rollerball. He had smelled it on an acquaintance, he said, and the scent reminded him of me. "Warm, soft, inviting, like you.". For me, it was a mix of sweet, somewhat smoky vanilla and caramel. I liked the scent, but loved the associations I had with it. It was not expensive, yet so precious to me. The one I got it from was precious to me. We were inseparable. Until he went to visit his dad again and never came home. Not to me anymore. He broke off contact at that time, I found out later from his mother that he had met someone. Whether that was the reason, I had done something wrong, no idea. It took me a long time to learn that you can't force people to become part of your life if they don't want it themselves. I now live not far from his mother, we see each other often, greet and make small talk. He got married, to a good woman. I know where he lives, have his phone number, he vice versa the same. Still, it's almost like a silent bittersweet agreement that no one will get in touch. The possibility to change this at any time has let me make my peace with it. At the same time, I sometimes feel sad for myself that this special person has not found a bigger place in my life. Who knows the background or what it is good for. In the meantime I can't even remember the sound of his voice, but I can remember very well the feeling he gave me when we were together. How he looked into mine with his dark eyes and always seemed to see through me. No one has ever understood me like he did. For a long time he was my safe haven and I think I was his at the time.
I still have the old perfume oil bottle from him. It is empty. I can not dispose of it. Very slightly it still smells like what it used to be, Kayali's Vanilla 28 all the stronger for it.
How glad I was that I had found it. Shortly thereafter, it had a permanent place in my collection. I don't wear it often, but when I do, it always reminds me of the kind, handsome young man as he glares at me with his deep brown eyes and all that he has taught me. He's (m)a soul-flatterer, like my best friend.

#kitschigaberahr #sorrynotsorry