Russisch Juchten Harry Lehmann
21
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The Journey to Berlin with the Perfume Addicts
Continuation:
After I attended the meeting of the anonymous perfume addicts and quickly realized that my Knize Ten obsession is not a negative addiction but rather an expression of good taste, my journey continued. Of course, I was old-fashioned when it came to the younger crowd, but that didn’t stop me from indulging in my K10. Anyway, it happened that I had to travel to Berlin for work. A city that I viewed with pleasure on one hand, but which also seemed somewhat mysterious to me as someone who grew up in Thalfang near Trier. I mean, where were the cows? Anyway, I boarded the train to Berlin.
So there I was, lost in thought about the landscapes, when a gentleman in the train compartment spoke to me: “Hello? Excuse me?....excuse me!”
“Oh, I’m sorry, I was lost in thought.” I quickly moved my jacket from the empty seat, which I had - skillfully like a German tourist with his beach towel - draped over the seat next to me. The other passenger took a seat, casually tapped his hat brim before finally removing it. So we traveled alongside each other under his furtive glances. Eventually, it became too much for me! “Can I do something for you, sir?” I asked. “No, no, why do you ask?”
“So the way you’re looking at me, you either want to ask me out, kiss me, or have some other similar intention!” I replied cheekily. He laughed and then said: “No, you misunderstand. Your perfume intrigues me; it smells somewhat like the opening of my fragrance but still different. What is it?” “Oh, I see,” I blushed slightly at my rude question, “that’s Knize Ten. What are you wearing?”
The guest showed me a small bottle, perfume by weight, I hesitated. “That’s Russian Leather from a small perfumery in Berlin. Would you like to try it, Mr...?”
“Bogart, Chizza Bogart. Sure, and you are?” “Peter Halston, friends also call me Z-14.” “Nice to meet you. How does this Russian Leather smell, Mr. Halston?” He sprayed some on my wrist, and I was stunned. It actually smelled vaguely like my K10!
In the opening, it was like a kind of soapy leather but without the harshness of dark leather, more like faded, worn leather that only gently released its leather scent, as if it had to hold back to not release its last leather breath too soon. “Well, that’s not for everyone, is it?” I asked. As if to prove my point, the lady across from us suddenly rushed out of the compartment, coughing and coughing. Peter grinned mischievously. “Well, it’s not for the faint-hearted. But it shouldn’t be; they have plenty of other scents! Take a sniff! Is the scent changing already?”
I sniffed again, and indeed, the soapy quality gradually receded, remaining faintly but revealing a deeper insight into the leather. It became slightly harsher, as if it had been freed from the soapy lather. “Yes, you’re right, that’s not bad! Where does it come from?” “From Berlin, as I said. You’re traveling alone, and my wife, Ilse, is still with her parents for the next few days. I’ll show you the shop, and if you like, I know a nice bar around the corner too!”
My forehead furrowed, but Peter Halston guessed my thoughts. “A stylish bar with a 60s flair, not an Appletini joint.” Suddenly, we were interrupted by a person in sunglasses, stylish shorts, an overall cosmopolitan yet classic person, hard to describe. He said: “My name is Mann, Otto, Oud is my motto.” “Ah, sorry, the Oud section is one car down.” “Oh, where am I here? I usually take the bus; it’s easy to get lost.” “Fragrances for friends of bygone times.” “Alright, I’m off. One car down, you said?” “Yes, exactly.”
“Chizza, are you keeping an eye on the scent progression? It goes on. What kind of name is that; Chizza?” “A kind of artist name; my daughter called our son that due to a lack of developed speech when she was a toddler.”
Eventually, the soapy quality disappeared, becoming softly floral, with the leather pushing to the forefront. Fascinating, I thought to myself. Would that be it? As if Peter Halston guessed my thoughts again, he said: “Then prepare yourself for the end later. It becomes pleasantly soft, almost as if the scent wants to apologize for the harsh opening. Wonderful! I have to get off here at the next station. See you tomorrow, as agreed?” “Yes, of course, Z-14!”
We said our goodbyes, and I continued on to the last station alone. As I was putting away the book “On the Happy Life” in my bag, I had to smile gently. Even if there were probably no cow pastures here, Russian Leather was in itself in this big city as rustic and charming as the farmer with his cows next to the large dairy factory.
After I attended the meeting of the anonymous perfume addicts and quickly realized that my Knize Ten obsession is not a negative addiction but rather an expression of good taste, my journey continued. Of course, I was old-fashioned when it came to the younger crowd, but that didn’t stop me from indulging in my K10. Anyway, it happened that I had to travel to Berlin for work. A city that I viewed with pleasure on one hand, but which also seemed somewhat mysterious to me as someone who grew up in Thalfang near Trier. I mean, where were the cows? Anyway, I boarded the train to Berlin.
So there I was, lost in thought about the landscapes, when a gentleman in the train compartment spoke to me: “Hello? Excuse me?....excuse me!”
“Oh, I’m sorry, I was lost in thought.” I quickly moved my jacket from the empty seat, which I had - skillfully like a German tourist with his beach towel - draped over the seat next to me. The other passenger took a seat, casually tapped his hat brim before finally removing it. So we traveled alongside each other under his furtive glances. Eventually, it became too much for me! “Can I do something for you, sir?” I asked. “No, no, why do you ask?”
“So the way you’re looking at me, you either want to ask me out, kiss me, or have some other similar intention!” I replied cheekily. He laughed and then said: “No, you misunderstand. Your perfume intrigues me; it smells somewhat like the opening of my fragrance but still different. What is it?” “Oh, I see,” I blushed slightly at my rude question, “that’s Knize Ten. What are you wearing?”
The guest showed me a small bottle, perfume by weight, I hesitated. “That’s Russian Leather from a small perfumery in Berlin. Would you like to try it, Mr...?”
“Bogart, Chizza Bogart. Sure, and you are?” “Peter Halston, friends also call me Z-14.” “Nice to meet you. How does this Russian Leather smell, Mr. Halston?” He sprayed some on my wrist, and I was stunned. It actually smelled vaguely like my K10!
In the opening, it was like a kind of soapy leather but without the harshness of dark leather, more like faded, worn leather that only gently released its leather scent, as if it had to hold back to not release its last leather breath too soon. “Well, that’s not for everyone, is it?” I asked. As if to prove my point, the lady across from us suddenly rushed out of the compartment, coughing and coughing. Peter grinned mischievously. “Well, it’s not for the faint-hearted. But it shouldn’t be; they have plenty of other scents! Take a sniff! Is the scent changing already?”
I sniffed again, and indeed, the soapy quality gradually receded, remaining faintly but revealing a deeper insight into the leather. It became slightly harsher, as if it had been freed from the soapy lather. “Yes, you’re right, that’s not bad! Where does it come from?” “From Berlin, as I said. You’re traveling alone, and my wife, Ilse, is still with her parents for the next few days. I’ll show you the shop, and if you like, I know a nice bar around the corner too!”
My forehead furrowed, but Peter Halston guessed my thoughts. “A stylish bar with a 60s flair, not an Appletini joint.” Suddenly, we were interrupted by a person in sunglasses, stylish shorts, an overall cosmopolitan yet classic person, hard to describe. He said: “My name is Mann, Otto, Oud is my motto.” “Ah, sorry, the Oud section is one car down.” “Oh, where am I here? I usually take the bus; it’s easy to get lost.” “Fragrances for friends of bygone times.” “Alright, I’m off. One car down, you said?” “Yes, exactly.”
“Chizza, are you keeping an eye on the scent progression? It goes on. What kind of name is that; Chizza?” “A kind of artist name; my daughter called our son that due to a lack of developed speech when she was a toddler.”
Eventually, the soapy quality disappeared, becoming softly floral, with the leather pushing to the forefront. Fascinating, I thought to myself. Would that be it? As if Peter Halston guessed my thoughts again, he said: “Then prepare yourself for the end later. It becomes pleasantly soft, almost as if the scent wants to apologize for the harsh opening. Wonderful! I have to get off here at the next station. See you tomorrow, as agreed?” “Yes, of course, Z-14!”
We said our goodbyes, and I continued on to the last station alone. As I was putting away the book “On the Happy Life” in my bag, I had to smile gently. Even if there were probably no cow pastures here, Russian Leather was in itself in this big city as rustic and charming as the farmer with his cows next to the large dairy factory.
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8 Comments
In terms of notes, I would rank the Russian Leathers even higher if you enjoy well-crafted retro chic.
And funny: Monsieur Teste can really relate to the contrast between Thalfang and Berlin since he used to bounce between the regions. Those are two distant worlds.