Barfly Scotch & Soda 2010
7
Translated
Show original
... "Only now do I hear "Spooky" by Dusty Springfield scratching out of the back of a record player."
I open my eyes. Where am I?
I'm looking around.
I see dark wood, it must be a bar or a tavern. Just something a little more stylish. I'm going for a walk. The wood floor below me creaks. I look down at myself. The pleat of the suit trousers fits perfectly and matches the cream-coloured boat shoes. I feel warm. I take off my blazer, fold it once the length and lay it over one of the dusty, dark bar stools at the bar. Only now I hear "Spooky" by "Dusty Springfield" scratching out of a record player in the back corner. Not at all pushy, I feel good. Through two small, open windows bright sunrays penetrate into the dark room. In the back light the dust dances to the beat of the music, very smoothly, very slowly. I walk towards the front door. I push down the cool iron handle and the door opens creaking and heavy. Light comes towards me. The sun is flat. I breathe in fresh, cool air. It must be early in the morning. I walk up three steps and stand on cobblestones. In front of me a canal, a canal. I turn around and look back at the door. "Amsterdam Jazz Club" is written on the neon sign above the entrance. Again I am overcome by a feeling of well-being
I love that smell. It's just so special. One of the few fragrances that captivate me every time again and invite me to dream. No other fragrance lets my thoughts become so creative. Again and again I catch myself closing my eyes, inhaling the scent and my thoughts wandering away for a moment. Unexcited. Smooth. No rush.
For me, the scent is a reflection of good clothing. The perfect complement. I hope the production will never stop.
I'm looking around.
I see dark wood, it must be a bar or a tavern. Just something a little more stylish. I'm going for a walk. The wood floor below me creaks. I look down at myself. The pleat of the suit trousers fits perfectly and matches the cream-coloured boat shoes. I feel warm. I take off my blazer, fold it once the length and lay it over one of the dusty, dark bar stools at the bar. Only now I hear "Spooky" by "Dusty Springfield" scratching out of a record player in the back corner. Not at all pushy, I feel good. Through two small, open windows bright sunrays penetrate into the dark room. In the back light the dust dances to the beat of the music, very smoothly, very slowly. I walk towards the front door. I push down the cool iron handle and the door opens creaking and heavy. Light comes towards me. The sun is flat. I breathe in fresh, cool air. It must be early in the morning. I walk up three steps and stand on cobblestones. In front of me a canal, a canal. I turn around and look back at the door. "Amsterdam Jazz Club" is written on the neon sign above the entrance. Again I am overcome by a feeling of well-being
I love that smell. It's just so special. One of the few fragrances that captivate me every time again and invite me to dream. No other fragrance lets my thoughts become so creative. Again and again I catch myself closing my eyes, inhaling the scent and my thoughts wandering away for a moment. Unexcited. Smooth. No rush.
For me, the scent is a reflection of good clothing. The perfect complement. I hope the production will never stop.
6 Comments