Midsummer Man Marc O'Polo 2004 Eau de Toilette

In 1951 - the same year, by the way, as Hilde Knef's sensational portrayal of the 'sinner' - Swedish director Arne Mattsson caused quite a scandal when his film 'She Only Danced for One Summer' featured a nude bathing scene that overwhelmed even the liberal Scandinavians of the prudish 50s. The scene (which, from today's perspective, is hardly more than innocent - you briefly see her breasts and nothing else) led to protests outside and inside cinemas and was ultimately cut from the film in many countries - or the film was simply banned.

Decades later, I saw a very beautiful and atmospheric photograph in a magazine featuring a very similar scene: a lonely boat dock by a lake in warm evening light, with two topless girls and two boys - all blonde, attractive, and in their mid-twenties, almost like in Mattsson's scandalous film. The girls are dozing in the sunlight while the boys stand at the edge of the dock, skipping flat stones across the water's surface - the other thing, besides playing the piano, that I very much regret not being able to do.

Marc O'Polo's Midsummer was the first fragrance I bought on a whim - it's been a good ten years now - and then wore for just one summer. It's uncomplicated. Not a demanding scent and not one that leaves a lasting impression. It smells a bit like a rough knit sweater that you’ve lounged in for an afternoon in sun-drenched heather - earthy and herbally warm and in an indefinably pleasant way - summer. Midsummer creates a diffuse sense of well-being (what I’ve tried to describe as 'lying in the heather') and casually tells stories of youth and carefree days, of boys skipping stones on boat docks in the golden evening sun - and of the topless Kerstin, who also only danced for one summer back then.

Conclusion: simple and uncomplicated through and through. Like someone who nudges you in passing and whispers softly: 'Hey, do you want to be friends?'