07/19/2019
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Flashback!
It ambushes me. Completely unexpected. The inscription reads Rosa Nectar. And I think harmlessly of roses and nectar, so something sweet. I don't even really expect Rose, because I often don't even perceive Rose as such in fragrances. But I find the brand interesting, and since I have the bottling of Guufy, I also think maybe it will be a little powdery or with musk, because these preferences Guufy seems to me to have. And then I spray, naive, clueless, and - Flashback!
1987. I stand in Hamburg in the tea shop of J.. J., who had been in India as long as I heard and now runs the tea shop here. With his German girlfriend who painted a dot on her forehead. The shop is in the front and they live in a small room in the back. The room consists of about 70 percent of a large double mattress on which the two live. At that time I was still wearing my first perfume oil, which I had bought myself and later even bought several times: Wild Love by Nerval, a monothematic musk fragrance that I had fallen for at that time. But here in J.'s store my Wild Love remains in the background, because as soon as you open the door with the flair of the 50s and you hear a mild, mechanical carillon, a wave of wondrous, intense, warm scents takes hold of you, which is unique: First there is a bitter-pink bouquet of natural blossoms mixed into some teas: Japanese cherry blossoms, intensely fragrant rose petals. In the back room, on the mattress with an Indian bedspread in dark red tones, there is always a fresh tea in a black iron jug on the teapot. Regular customers, perhaps not only these, are offered a cup of it. Often it is black tea with rose petals. I buy this tea there regularly, just like Oolong with Pekkoblüten, with small shovels from enormous doses in crackling bags to 50 or equal 100 grammes filled. There is also a small selection of Indian clothes in the shop. She's protected from moths with patchouli. There are also small bottles of essential oils: Also patchouli, amber, sandalwood, musk, but not my Wild Love. J.'s girlfriend uses the patchouli oil from the shop, so the atmosphere is more clearly filled with a mixture of moth-protected, gossamer delicate and wonderfully colourful cotton fabrics.
After about 4-5 hours J.'s tea shop slips away more and more. The rose and cherry blossoms say goodbye. But for another 3-4 hours there remains a touch of finest and noblest patchouli and my Wild Love.
And then just my Wild Love.
And then a lot of Wild Love as if I had poured the whole little bottle at once over my wrists and on my neck. And that - who knows the Nerval oils of that time, knows that - remains not only 4 hours, but determines again 8, at least until the next morning. And the clothes - today no longer Indian - still have days of it.
1987 is passé and nowadays I don't like musk so much anymore. The modern musk fragrances have managed to spoil even the old variants for me. The Nerval Wild Love version is still one of the most pleasant ones for me. But what's too much is too much.
The teelade flashback should have lasted even longer. But because of the musk soaked clothes, which I definitely can't put on the next day, no bottle will decorate my collection.
The bottling, however, I will consume with pleasure and beam myself from time to time after 1987. On it a rose tea.
Thanks, Guufy!
1987. I stand in Hamburg in the tea shop of J.. J., who had been in India as long as I heard and now runs the tea shop here. With his German girlfriend who painted a dot on her forehead. The shop is in the front and they live in a small room in the back. The room consists of about 70 percent of a large double mattress on which the two live. At that time I was still wearing my first perfume oil, which I had bought myself and later even bought several times: Wild Love by Nerval, a monothematic musk fragrance that I had fallen for at that time. But here in J.'s store my Wild Love remains in the background, because as soon as you open the door with the flair of the 50s and you hear a mild, mechanical carillon, a wave of wondrous, intense, warm scents takes hold of you, which is unique: First there is a bitter-pink bouquet of natural blossoms mixed into some teas: Japanese cherry blossoms, intensely fragrant rose petals. In the back room, on the mattress with an Indian bedspread in dark red tones, there is always a fresh tea in a black iron jug on the teapot. Regular customers, perhaps not only these, are offered a cup of it. Often it is black tea with rose petals. I buy this tea there regularly, just like Oolong with Pekkoblüten, with small shovels from enormous doses in crackling bags to 50 or equal 100 grammes filled. There is also a small selection of Indian clothes in the shop. She's protected from moths with patchouli. There are also small bottles of essential oils: Also patchouli, amber, sandalwood, musk, but not my Wild Love. J.'s girlfriend uses the patchouli oil from the shop, so the atmosphere is more clearly filled with a mixture of moth-protected, gossamer delicate and wonderfully colourful cotton fabrics.
After about 4-5 hours J.'s tea shop slips away more and more. The rose and cherry blossoms say goodbye. But for another 3-4 hours there remains a touch of finest and noblest patchouli and my Wild Love.
And then just my Wild Love.
And then a lot of Wild Love as if I had poured the whole little bottle at once over my wrists and on my neck. And that - who knows the Nerval oils of that time, knows that - remains not only 4 hours, but determines again 8, at least until the next morning. And the clothes - today no longer Indian - still have days of it.
1987 is passé and nowadays I don't like musk so much anymore. The modern musk fragrances have managed to spoil even the old variants for me. The Nerval Wild Love version is still one of the most pleasant ones for me. But what's too much is too much.
The teelade flashback should have lasted even longer. But because of the musk soaked clothes, which I definitely can't put on the next day, no bottle will decorate my collection.
The bottling, however, I will consume with pleasure and beam myself from time to time after 1987. On it a rose tea.
Thanks, Guufy!
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