Top Notes 
Heart Notes 
Base Notes 
09/14/2023
Chizza
273 Reviews
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Chizza
Very helpful Review
18
Now get the leather out!
"What can I do for you?"
"I want you to be the best, is that right?"
"Yes, of course. There's no one better. In Herne."
"I'm looking for the leather in Cuir Fleurissant."
"Ah, the perfume, I'll take care of it and at the same time refrain from a pun on croissant."
"Thank you very much Mr. Wolle Wollny, called Wolle. Where will you start your search?"
"Next door at the Greek restaurant. Today we always have a nice platter for lunch, Kreta, Waldemar or Dionysos or whatever it's called."
So the personified Herne local color started. Wolle, the first self-certified and certified perfume expert, founder and narrowly failed student of the Bachelor of Donvanvliet, would take the fragrance apart. If necessary, he would dazzle it, loudly proclaim his assumptions and then make a run for it. He really was the best at that. But what would Sherlock Wolle be without his better half? Dr. Huhn, as much in possession of a doctorate as Dr. Oetker, would assist. As in Star Trek, they both had subcutaneous transponders fitted so that Polly and her chatter could finally be understood. These didn't work, presumably because they were from an issue of the Yps magazine. So Polly's beak was bandaged and from then on she was more of a background gag.
Klaus-Werner, known to everyone as the Greek because of his pub and because he once traveled through Greece in 1985 in his old trucker life, was delighted when he saw the two of them. There was too much beer in stock, and he also liked to sell bird food at expensive prices. But when he saw Wolle looking serious and plonked a bottle of Cuir Fleurissant on the table, he felt quite uneasy about the impending disaster. Because of course he knew the scent. His old friend and engraver Angelos was responsible; they both used to go to sea as fishermen and also worked as pirates on the side until Klaus-Werner received the fateful phone call: Sportfreunde Lotte had lost to Westfalia Rhynern and another year in the Oberliga Westfalen was imminent. After that, nothing was the same again.
"Klaus-Werner, old Wemser, come and see me! What were you thinking with that smell? Where did you hide the leather here? In the pile of dried flowers or where? I smell mimosa here, carrots too, a bit of old powder."
"A little patience, you'll soon get to the part where you rub it all on your leather bush. And you'll like it, the leather note is dry and coarse and slightly animalistic thanks to some floral notes. Which is fitting when I look at how often you wash your leather clothes and trousers. Never?"
"Oh, I thought that was wilted, even brown green. These earthy notes, this delicate smoke, this missing birch tar. I almost felt like Bud & Terence when they got their beach buggy. The invisible one."
"No, no, there really is leather."
And there it was. As if hidden under layers or only visible to experienced noses, there was suede. Mediocre to inferior in quality, but it was there. So this fragrance lingered for many moments, living only slightly from variations.
Case solved. Wool end. Even if it's never completely gone. Woollen heart.
"I want you to be the best, is that right?"
"Yes, of course. There's no one better. In Herne."
"I'm looking for the leather in Cuir Fleurissant."
"Ah, the perfume, I'll take care of it and at the same time refrain from a pun on croissant."
"Thank you very much Mr. Wolle Wollny, called Wolle. Where will you start your search?"
"Next door at the Greek restaurant. Today we always have a nice platter for lunch, Kreta, Waldemar or Dionysos or whatever it's called."
So the personified Herne local color started. Wolle, the first self-certified and certified perfume expert, founder and narrowly failed student of the Bachelor of Donvanvliet, would take the fragrance apart. If necessary, he would dazzle it, loudly proclaim his assumptions and then make a run for it. He really was the best at that. But what would Sherlock Wolle be without his better half? Dr. Huhn, as much in possession of a doctorate as Dr. Oetker, would assist. As in Star Trek, they both had subcutaneous transponders fitted so that Polly and her chatter could finally be understood. These didn't work, presumably because they were from an issue of the Yps magazine. So Polly's beak was bandaged and from then on she was more of a background gag.
Klaus-Werner, known to everyone as the Greek because of his pub and because he once traveled through Greece in 1985 in his old trucker life, was delighted when he saw the two of them. There was too much beer in stock, and he also liked to sell bird food at expensive prices. But when he saw Wolle looking serious and plonked a bottle of Cuir Fleurissant on the table, he felt quite uneasy about the impending disaster. Because of course he knew the scent. His old friend and engraver Angelos was responsible; they both used to go to sea as fishermen and also worked as pirates on the side until Klaus-Werner received the fateful phone call: Sportfreunde Lotte had lost to Westfalia Rhynern and another year in the Oberliga Westfalen was imminent. After that, nothing was the same again.
"Klaus-Werner, old Wemser, come and see me! What were you thinking with that smell? Where did you hide the leather here? In the pile of dried flowers or where? I smell mimosa here, carrots too, a bit of old powder."
"A little patience, you'll soon get to the part where you rub it all on your leather bush. And you'll like it, the leather note is dry and coarse and slightly animalistic thanks to some floral notes. Which is fitting when I look at how often you wash your leather clothes and trousers. Never?"
"Oh, I thought that was wilted, even brown green. These earthy notes, this delicate smoke, this missing birch tar. I almost felt like Bud & Terence when they got their beach buggy. The invisible one."
"No, no, there really is leather."
And there it was. As if hidden under layers or only visible to experienced noses, there was suede. Mediocre to inferior in quality, but it was there. So this fragrance lingered for many moments, living only slightly from variations.
Case solved. Wool end. Even if it's never completely gone. Woollen heart.
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Rachelg
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