Mediterraneum Proteo Profumi 1993 Eau de Toilette

"**Mediterraneum**" came to me.
Just like that, like a stray dog, a wandering cat, deciding that I would henceforth be "his person."
One day it was there, the bottle, the tall flat one with the strange flip cap, standing in my collection, without me really knowing how it got there.
Nowhere could I find anything about the scent, even here it had not yet been added to the directory.
No pyramid told me anything about its character, its origin remained in the dark - "seems to be a mixed breed, up and down the street," I thought, partly amused, partly irritated, and certainly with a good portion of arrogance that led me to suspect a scent of bargain table level.
Ashes to my head.

The first spray silenced my thoughts.
Very clear, very herbal, fresh yet dry, a scent rose from my skin that immediately made me blush - whatever else was to come, "**Mediterraneum**" had nothing in common with a bargain table, that much was clear within seconds.
But "**Mediterraneum**" does not hold my arrogance against me - almost immediately it leaves behind all coolness and severity, warms up and unfolds a subtly spicy-fruity bouquet that is not gourmand in traces, conjuring up in my mind a very relaxed, friendly-casual late thirty-something, self-assured and engaging, yet reserved and quiet.
Its features are striking and at the same time ambassadors of its sensitivity, its sensuality - it knows its attractiveness, yet does not flirt with it, does not emphasize it, does not impose itself.
Man, friend, father.
Protector, listener, horse thief.
Woman-Man, Man-Man.

It is difficult to dissect "**Mediterraneum**" into its individual parts, to pick it apart, to describe strictly analytically separated impressions.
Perhaps it doesn't even make sense, there is no necessity arising.
The notes are closely and densely intertwined, always in motion like the dunes, the sea, a grain field in the summer wind, details perceptible for moments and then disappearing again in their entirety - gentle yet powerful and exceedingly attractive.
Hours pass in which the spices slowly gain contour and mix with sand and wood and skin, warm and deep and staying close to me, not rushing ahead, not proclaiming anything, not putting up posters, yet clearly, reliably, familiarly.
One that stays.
One for life.

Just yesterday I found "**Mediterraneum**" here.
Just yesterday I got to experience that not only I love him so much, my stray companion.
I still do not know where he came from.
But I know that he will always have a special place with me.