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les histoires des parfums - chapitre 4 - the cat from paris
Part 4 of the Parisian perfume stories about the now 20-year-old protagonist from Germany, who does a voluntary social year in Paris and passes the time with perfume tours through all arrondissements, leads us again near the Jardin des Tuileries.
After he could already leave in the Parfums de Marly boutique his "scent mark" and it has meanwhile even managed that the two very nice Verkäuferhyänen communicate with him in the local language, because he had so often and emphatically tried the French, he now headed for the MEMO boutique located right next door. Shocked by the wonderfully furnished shop (really true, google that one or go there) and the artfully designed fragrance bottles he found, he didn't notice the sales hyena present that day at first. When she came up the (as well as everything else) wonderful spiral staircase from the warehouse, he was almost a bit startled. However, she turned out to be more of a cuddle cat, addressing him in hyena-untypical soft French, and giving him the time and space he needed throughout his stay.
Our protagonist had gone to the boutique entirely unprepared, and so every perfume had to be tested out.
So really wanted to agree to him first none. The "Lalibela Oud" was too feminine for him, the other fragrances somehow too colorless. The "Irish Leather" he should discover later still for himself; on this day, however, he did not attach any great importance to this fragrance. In the end, there were actually only two untested memos left: "Marfa" and, for some reason, "African Leather". This was the only scent he had ever heard of anywhere. "Marfa" appealed to him immediately. Very distinct tuberose accord, soft, cuddly scent; parallels to "Soleil blanc" by Tom Ford that could not be overlooked (or smelled over). Yes, he liked this one very much. Very very even.
Why he bought it (3 Travel-Atomiser for 90€) after about five minutes, although he only knew the top note, I can't answer you today. He did it, however. Ran to the metro with an uneasy feeling. Smelled again and again at the test strip. And knew when changing trains at the world-famous station "Châtelet - les Halles" that he had made a mistake. He liked this perfume, yes, quite. But he didn't want to smell like that. At that moment, he established for himself a description for a certain kind of perfume: great scent, but only as a room scent. One should not smell so rather.
What now with this newfound certainty. In any case, do not unpack the new acquisition. He would not get the money back, however, also. At most a voucher. Or, however, he would be able to make an exchange. But against what. He didn't like any of the fragrances from the house. Merde!!!! The first perfume mis-purchase. It happens to everyone, he told himself. But he also knew that it needn't have happened. Listlessly, he looked again at the sample from the shopping bag of "Memo", sprayed "African Leather", the only fragrance of the house not yet tested, on the wrist, and went dejectedly to bed.
He woke up at 2:40, because he urgently needed to go to the loo. He went briskly, and was almost back in his room, when he opened his eyes a little wider. What was that pleasant smell? He sniffed his wrist..... and saw the predatory cat. Graceful, elegant, graceful. Sharp claws, but only when she has to. Calm, but also deadly loud when she must. Inconspicuous in the high steppe grass, but unmistakably fast and murderous on the hunt. And yes, I am still talking about the scent. Rather, I'm talking about the scent experience that the 20-year-old FSJler had that night in the west of Paris.
The morning after, he wanted to test the fragrance again... but he didn't need to. He was still perceptible on the wrist, had hardly changed, and still left him speechless. He set out at the next opportunity, and traded the beautiful, but for him intolerable room scent for a new pet. A dangerous pet. A cat he could also go out with. No, with whom he must go out. Who needs her run. Her territory to perform. Who needs little to do to gain respect. Her mere presence is enough. Who strikes deadly in the hunt. The no prey escapes.
Merci, Memo, for a pet in a class of its own. For a beastly good companion, which only at the beginning a little too much the claws out, only to make then ten hours plus the desert decadently unsafe.
African Leather
the only predator in Paris
After he could already leave in the Parfums de Marly boutique his "scent mark" and it has meanwhile even managed that the two very nice Verkäuferhyänen communicate with him in the local language, because he had so often and emphatically tried the French, he now headed for the MEMO boutique located right next door. Shocked by the wonderfully furnished shop (really true, google that one or go there) and the artfully designed fragrance bottles he found, he didn't notice the sales hyena present that day at first. When she came up the (as well as everything else) wonderful spiral staircase from the warehouse, he was almost a bit startled. However, she turned out to be more of a cuddle cat, addressing him in hyena-untypical soft French, and giving him the time and space he needed throughout his stay.
Our protagonist had gone to the boutique entirely unprepared, and so every perfume had to be tested out.
So really wanted to agree to him first none. The "Lalibela Oud" was too feminine for him, the other fragrances somehow too colorless. The "Irish Leather" he should discover later still for himself; on this day, however, he did not attach any great importance to this fragrance. In the end, there were actually only two untested memos left: "Marfa" and, for some reason, "African Leather". This was the only scent he had ever heard of anywhere. "Marfa" appealed to him immediately. Very distinct tuberose accord, soft, cuddly scent; parallels to "Soleil blanc" by Tom Ford that could not be overlooked (or smelled over). Yes, he liked this one very much. Very very even.
Why he bought it (3 Travel-Atomiser for 90€) after about five minutes, although he only knew the top note, I can't answer you today. He did it, however. Ran to the metro with an uneasy feeling. Smelled again and again at the test strip. And knew when changing trains at the world-famous station "Châtelet - les Halles" that he had made a mistake. He liked this perfume, yes, quite. But he didn't want to smell like that. At that moment, he established for himself a description for a certain kind of perfume: great scent, but only as a room scent. One should not smell so rather.
What now with this newfound certainty. In any case, do not unpack the new acquisition. He would not get the money back, however, also. At most a voucher. Or, however, he would be able to make an exchange. But against what. He didn't like any of the fragrances from the house. Merde!!!! The first perfume mis-purchase. It happens to everyone, he told himself. But he also knew that it needn't have happened. Listlessly, he looked again at the sample from the shopping bag of "Memo", sprayed "African Leather", the only fragrance of the house not yet tested, on the wrist, and went dejectedly to bed.
He woke up at 2:40, because he urgently needed to go to the loo. He went briskly, and was almost back in his room, when he opened his eyes a little wider. What was that pleasant smell? He sniffed his wrist..... and saw the predatory cat. Graceful, elegant, graceful. Sharp claws, but only when she has to. Calm, but also deadly loud when she must. Inconspicuous in the high steppe grass, but unmistakably fast and murderous on the hunt. And yes, I am still talking about the scent. Rather, I'm talking about the scent experience that the 20-year-old FSJler had that night in the west of Paris.
The morning after, he wanted to test the fragrance again... but he didn't need to. He was still perceptible on the wrist, had hardly changed, and still left him speechless. He set out at the next opportunity, and traded the beautiful, but for him intolerable room scent for a new pet. A dangerous pet. A cat he could also go out with. No, with whom he must go out. Who needs her run. Her territory to perform. Who needs little to do to gain respect. Her mere presence is enough. Who strikes deadly in the hunt. The no prey escapes.
Merci, Memo, for a pet in a class of its own. For a beastly good companion, which only at the beginning a little too much the claws out, only to make then ten hours plus the desert decadently unsafe.
African Leather
the only predator in Paris
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