Daisy Love Sunshine Marc Jacobs 2019
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Daisy magic
I had to have that bottle! It is packed in a sunny yellow box with a dark yellow flower and gold rim. The glass takes up the pattern of the petals, the liquid glows warm yellow and the cap is decorated with a yellow plastic flower.
Daisy comes from the Old English of Daegeseage and means day eye. This is the popular term for all kinds of composite flowers such as daisies and daisies. Every child knows her, perhaps by other names - Maßliebchen, Marienblume, Himmelblume, Moonlightblume or Tausendschön. They bloom on almost every meadow, invite bees, bumble bees and hover flies to visit and show everyone their smiling faces.
Most famous Daisy is Donald Duck's fashion-conscious girlfriend with the colored bow in her hair and matching shoes. Some of them certainly unforgettable - the dog of a Munich fashion king. Or Daisy Miller - a literary character. Not to forget Princess Daisy - the first lady of the Hai Society, who did not give her invitations so far away from my favorite city W..
I bought the fragrance in W. From the shopping gallery I walked a few steps to a place next to a former monastery. A few blocks away, the traffic's passing by. Pedestrians rarely go through here, which is unusual because most people choose shortcuts. Tourists rush to a place of interest nearby, but nobody can see what is nearby. The place almost looks like wasteland that I love so much. Kind of abandoned. Grass sprouts through the cracks of the pavement slabs, dandelions and daisies bloom on the meadow.
I like these untamed last corners of our otherwise so cleanly licked cities. They're still here, in the middle of town. Next to the church there are large boulders. I feel like an archaeologist when I look at her. Beside strange figures, relics of a church column with figures and masks. Just standing there, unnoticed.
When you see something every day, you don't see it. That may be the case with the daisy.
The fragrance starts with a bee sting - something stings my nose, looks synthetic, even if the citric follows immediately. It tickles a little, I think of sparkling champagne and that's how it smells. I perceive lime only as soft accompanying music. It lends a youthful touch, something lively, enterprising. The scent of summer, when there was nothing better for thirst than lemon soda.
Aunt Bergamot's appearance. For my nose once again as an elderly aunt who wipes a child's face with a wet handkerchief, but this one is friendly. She's smiling. Something pompous is also there, only what? The aunt agrees with a glass of sparkling wine, which is no longer sparkling, but rather a little stale. Happily she rests on the sofa and lets herself be replenished. Sparkling, effervescent.
After half an hour, the scent becomes milder, as soft as the light of the evening sun. It still smells citric. A hint of orange, even though it's not listed. And still there is this light note of sparkling bubbles of sparkling wine. That tickles me. And then I easily get a headache and I get sick. Ew. I'm really nauseous. Maybe it's not the scent. I've just been looking at too much of the past. Too stirred up in the family soup.
The heart is citric and too cold for me. The basis is Kashmiri Musk. The culprit turns the daisy into daisies that smell like cheese to my nose.
Daisies have magic. They remind us of our childhood, when we gave ourselves to the moments, to these endless summers. On the meadows, daisies picked daisies, woven a chain from them or gave the bouquet to their mothers, the stems very warm from the child's hand. How proud we were when she put the daisies in a little vase.
Today, like most adults, we hunt tomorrow or a part of our self is still wandering through the past. No matter what storms rage in life, what man does, the daisy is already there and comes again.
Childhood does not come back (in many cases this is certainly a good thing). The vanished land - this is what Astrid Lindgren called the closed gate to childhood. When she woke up one morning and couldn't play anymore. Something was lost forever.
Back at the hotel I wash off the scent, which proves to be quite stubborn. In desperation, I smear toothpaste on the back of my hands and let it dry. That helps.
Meanwhile I am back from W. and the bottle embellishes my desk. If any of your colleagues would like to test Daisy, please feel free to do so. The main thing is I don't have to water it. And if I'm in a bad mood, the bottle conjures the sunshine into my face.
You are my sunshine, my only sunshine
You make me happy when days are blue
No matter what storms rage in life, what man does, the daisies come back. I don't want to live in a country without daisies.
The bottle will remind me of W., where life began before me. W. is a vanished country, but without this vanished there would be no me. What am I looking for? That's another story. And Daisy reminds me of all those past moments.
By the way - today I would have needed an aunt with a handkerchief. There was chocolate ice cream all around my mouth. Whatever. I got Daisy.
Daisy comes from the Old English of Daegeseage and means day eye. This is the popular term for all kinds of composite flowers such as daisies and daisies. Every child knows her, perhaps by other names - Maßliebchen, Marienblume, Himmelblume, Moonlightblume or Tausendschön. They bloom on almost every meadow, invite bees, bumble bees and hover flies to visit and show everyone their smiling faces.
Most famous Daisy is Donald Duck's fashion-conscious girlfriend with the colored bow in her hair and matching shoes. Some of them certainly unforgettable - the dog of a Munich fashion king. Or Daisy Miller - a literary character. Not to forget Princess Daisy - the first lady of the Hai Society, who did not give her invitations so far away from my favorite city W..
I bought the fragrance in W. From the shopping gallery I walked a few steps to a place next to a former monastery. A few blocks away, the traffic's passing by. Pedestrians rarely go through here, which is unusual because most people choose shortcuts. Tourists rush to a place of interest nearby, but nobody can see what is nearby. The place almost looks like wasteland that I love so much. Kind of abandoned. Grass sprouts through the cracks of the pavement slabs, dandelions and daisies bloom on the meadow.
I like these untamed last corners of our otherwise so cleanly licked cities. They're still here, in the middle of town. Next to the church there are large boulders. I feel like an archaeologist when I look at her. Beside strange figures, relics of a church column with figures and masks. Just standing there, unnoticed.
When you see something every day, you don't see it. That may be the case with the daisy.
The fragrance starts with a bee sting - something stings my nose, looks synthetic, even if the citric follows immediately. It tickles a little, I think of sparkling champagne and that's how it smells. I perceive lime only as soft accompanying music. It lends a youthful touch, something lively, enterprising. The scent of summer, when there was nothing better for thirst than lemon soda.
Aunt Bergamot's appearance. For my nose once again as an elderly aunt who wipes a child's face with a wet handkerchief, but this one is friendly. She's smiling. Something pompous is also there, only what? The aunt agrees with a glass of sparkling wine, which is no longer sparkling, but rather a little stale. Happily she rests on the sofa and lets herself be replenished. Sparkling, effervescent.
After half an hour, the scent becomes milder, as soft as the light of the evening sun. It still smells citric. A hint of orange, even though it's not listed. And still there is this light note of sparkling bubbles of sparkling wine. That tickles me. And then I easily get a headache and I get sick. Ew. I'm really nauseous. Maybe it's not the scent. I've just been looking at too much of the past. Too stirred up in the family soup.
The heart is citric and too cold for me. The basis is Kashmiri Musk. The culprit turns the daisy into daisies that smell like cheese to my nose.
Daisies have magic. They remind us of our childhood, when we gave ourselves to the moments, to these endless summers. On the meadows, daisies picked daisies, woven a chain from them or gave the bouquet to their mothers, the stems very warm from the child's hand. How proud we were when she put the daisies in a little vase.
Today, like most adults, we hunt tomorrow or a part of our self is still wandering through the past. No matter what storms rage in life, what man does, the daisy is already there and comes again.
Childhood does not come back (in many cases this is certainly a good thing). The vanished land - this is what Astrid Lindgren called the closed gate to childhood. When she woke up one morning and couldn't play anymore. Something was lost forever.
Back at the hotel I wash off the scent, which proves to be quite stubborn. In desperation, I smear toothpaste on the back of my hands and let it dry. That helps.
Meanwhile I am back from W. and the bottle embellishes my desk. If any of your colleagues would like to test Daisy, please feel free to do so. The main thing is I don't have to water it. And if I'm in a bad mood, the bottle conjures the sunshine into my face.
You are my sunshine, my only sunshine
You make me happy when days are blue
No matter what storms rage in life, what man does, the daisies come back. I don't want to live in a country without daisies.
The bottle will remind me of W., where life began before me. W. is a vanished country, but without this vanished there would be no me. What am I looking for? That's another story. And Daisy reminds me of all those past moments.
By the way - today I would have needed an aunt with a handkerchief. There was chocolate ice cream all around my mouth. Whatever. I got Daisy.
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Aolani
