Alegra
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The Magic of the Moment
only becomes something precious in retrospect. Je reviens has accompanied me my whole life. In my childhood, the scent of my grandmother, alongside a few others like Shalimar and Mitsouko, was her everyday fragrance, her signature scent, belonging to my childhood like the smell of chicken soup. Chicken soup is good for the soul, whether for a cold, bad grades, or heartache, chicken soup provided comfort in the bleakness of adolescence. And her warm, flattering scent, sandalwood, vanilla, violet. Even today, I love violets. After her death, I found 3 unopened boxes of Je reviens in her wardrobe. Still in cellophane. She had bought them for herself, the price tag was still on the boxes. What do I conclude from this? 60 D-Mark, exactly 60. Not like today 59.99. A round sum and back then, a lot of money. I sit in her bedroom, the neighbors are gone, anyone who wanted something from her earthly treasures has taken it, I open a partially used bottle, dab some on my wrist, sniff, I do not find her in this scent. Aldehydes, lemon, some piercing note, off?
Disappointed, I continue packing for Caritas and for the trash. And suddenly..... powdery, warm, sweet, it rises from my wrist, the purple violet pastilles that I liked so much, the iris that powders it all, something herbal, but only slightly and strangely the scent of her face cream. She is back, in my heart, embraces me and finally, finally I no longer function, but can cry.
Time jump: Decades later, the ship of life has carried me through calm waters and through storms. And after a great, wild storm, in which I sometimes thought I would sink, I finally reached an island. Like Robinson, I set up anew.
In this phase, I met a man, 35 years older than me, a widower, where I suspected a good paternal friend was looking for a new partner.
A gentleman of the old school, he invited me to the opera, wrote letters in an old-fashioned way, shared some life wisdom with me, tamed my overflowing temperament, engaged in sensitive conversations with me, and taught me patience. For Christmas, he then gave me a bottle of Je reviens, the perfume. I did not mention that I had the old version at home multiple times, I thanked him.
He told me that it had been his late wife's favorite scent, and I thought quite heretically: no, really, of course, and the scent of my grandmother.
I did not say it out loud, it would not have been good style.
We never became a couple, but he always remained a paternal friend to me. By now, he resides mentally in another world, in the past, the deeply internalized core values have remained with him, still, when I visit him in the nursing home, he adjusts my chair, gives me small charming compliments, and when he occasionally, increasingly rarely, enters this world, he is still a pleasant conversational partner. Otherwise, I can only listen to him, let him address me by very different names, and enter his world that is so foreign to me. But always, really always, when I visit him, he smiles and is happy, which is not the case with all visitors; he can become quite grumpy.
Is it due to je reviens, this warmth, this sandalwood and violet-laden dry warmth? To which world does this perfume carry him? Can olfactory memory influence the past more strongly than, for example, stories?
It will probably always remain a mystery for us.
But je reviens remains our shared secret.
Disappointed, I continue packing for Caritas and for the trash. And suddenly..... powdery, warm, sweet, it rises from my wrist, the purple violet pastilles that I liked so much, the iris that powders it all, something herbal, but only slightly and strangely the scent of her face cream. She is back, in my heart, embraces me and finally, finally I no longer function, but can cry.
Time jump: Decades later, the ship of life has carried me through calm waters and through storms. And after a great, wild storm, in which I sometimes thought I would sink, I finally reached an island. Like Robinson, I set up anew.
In this phase, I met a man, 35 years older than me, a widower, where I suspected a good paternal friend was looking for a new partner.
A gentleman of the old school, he invited me to the opera, wrote letters in an old-fashioned way, shared some life wisdom with me, tamed my overflowing temperament, engaged in sensitive conversations with me, and taught me patience. For Christmas, he then gave me a bottle of Je reviens, the perfume. I did not mention that I had the old version at home multiple times, I thanked him.
He told me that it had been his late wife's favorite scent, and I thought quite heretically: no, really, of course, and the scent of my grandmother.
I did not say it out loud, it would not have been good style.
We never became a couple, but he always remained a paternal friend to me. By now, he resides mentally in another world, in the past, the deeply internalized core values have remained with him, still, when I visit him in the nursing home, he adjusts my chair, gives me small charming compliments, and when he occasionally, increasingly rarely, enters this world, he is still a pleasant conversational partner. Otherwise, I can only listen to him, let him address me by very different names, and enter his world that is so foreign to me. But always, really always, when I visit him, he smiles and is happy, which is not the case with all visitors; he can become quite grumpy.
Is it due to je reviens, this warmth, this sandalwood and violet-laden dry warmth? To which world does this perfume carry him? Can olfactory memory influence the past more strongly than, for example, stories?
It will probably always remain a mystery for us.
But je reviens remains our shared secret.
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Translated · Show original
Well, there you go
I love almond scents, I love gourmand fragrances, and I love scents with a good punch. So, my fragrances don't need to be shy. In my collection are the vintage Hypnotic and the new Confetto. And every time I picked up one of these fragrances, I couldn't imagine wearing one of them. There simply wasn't an occasion, even though the scents are beautiful in the right cautious dosage. Going out to eat? No, I'm not the dessert. In a meeting? Oh please not, something more understated would be better. A whole day with different people? These two fragrances never fit any occasion. Gosh, and they are so beautiful. But always somehow too much. And then, three years ago in Munich, I met him... via della corso. A brand completely unknown to me. And it was love at first sniff. A fragrance direction of which I had already had a few, yet it was completely different. It has hints of Confetto or HP. But it is more refined, more reserved, the elegance of a sophisticated Italian woman. The almond, beautifully intertwined with orange blossom, is immediately present and remains consistently dominant throughout the entire fragrance journey, always welcoming a sweet mandarin with open arms; I can't recognize jasmine or any other flowers, maybe they aren't even there, but musk makes this scent warm and cozy. Vanilla only comes in late, this dry vanilla bean paste that you scrape from the pod, which tastes almost a bit bitter when you lick some off your finger. Overall, this scent is by no means sweet. It accompanies me throughout the whole day, envelops me, makes me self-assured; I never have to think about whether it fits. Unfortunately, today when I wanted to reorder it, I found out it’s no longer available :(
So I will have to cherish the last 10 ml of my beautiful elegant Italian woman.
So I will have to cherish the last 10 ml of my beautiful elegant Italian woman.
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And suddenly I'm in the year 1977
This is my first comment, and I would have never dared, but this fragrance is simply worth it.
It was the year 1977, I was rebellious, I was wild, I was present, at every party, at the university my scent was just as loud, the Opium I had just discovered replaced the Patchouli I had previously favored from the Indian shop. I wore it with enthusiasm and probably always too much of it.
And then suddenly I was pregnant, unplanned, but very wanted. Of course, we were both studying, we had hardly any money, our small apartment, how much space does a baby really need? And didn’t our friends promise to help? Oh, how carefree we were. The pregnancy was great, parties continued to be celebrated, I smoked, didn’t drink anymore, life was beautiful.
We built a nest for the baby, were excited, and made plans.
On a hot August day, she was born, our daughter, we marveled at this little miracle, were thrilled by this perfection, and made plans for our future. Back then, nobody knew anything about "mom scent" and our miracle always smelled slightly of Opium.
And then I received a gift in the hospital, a small bottle, a very unusual shape, at the first sniff light green notes, an immediately present violet, and after a few minutes I had a lush bouquet of flowers on/in my arm, a bouquet that wasn’t assembled based on the flowers matching, but rather the floral scents. Just a little jasmine, but more lily of the valley, the carnation is there, but doesn’t push itself to the forefront, orris root and ylang-ylang frame it all, hold it together, in this frame the flowers flash up again and again, sometimes lily of the valley, sometimes carnation, then jasmine pushes forward and when it recedes again, I look forward to the lily of the valley once more. Very, very slowly these scents glide into a warm bed, the fragrance becomes cuddly, balsamic, and soft, almost soothing through musk and amber, sandalwood makes it sweetish but not sweet, it grounds it and I assume oak moss? makes it mature, special. The flowers flash through again and again even in the base, sometimes in the foreground, but mostly they stay in the background, you sense them, but they merge and form a unity, individual ones can no longer be distinguished. This balsamic enveloping comforting scent lasts for many, many hours.
A few days ago, I had the luck to get a 15 ml bottle new for very little money at a well-known auction house, no one bid on it.
When it arrived, I reverently unpacked it in the evening, freshly showered, and carefully dabbed it on. And suddenly it went bang, it flashed, I was suddenly back in that hospital bed, on my knees our newborn daughter and for the first time after 48 hours I was overwhelmed by such a boundless, overflowing feeling of love, such a great feeling of responsibility for this little being and the realization that I want to be there for this little person forever. And the cuddly, warm, soft, comforting cloud envelops us both and whispers softly. That was the moment when the party girl became an adult.
A few years ago, I bought an Eau de Parfum for a lot of money at this auction house, but it doesn’t trigger this flash, it must be the extrait.
It was the year 1977, I was rebellious, I was wild, I was present, at every party, at the university my scent was just as loud, the Opium I had just discovered replaced the Patchouli I had previously favored from the Indian shop. I wore it with enthusiasm and probably always too much of it.
And then suddenly I was pregnant, unplanned, but very wanted. Of course, we were both studying, we had hardly any money, our small apartment, how much space does a baby really need? And didn’t our friends promise to help? Oh, how carefree we were. The pregnancy was great, parties continued to be celebrated, I smoked, didn’t drink anymore, life was beautiful.
We built a nest for the baby, were excited, and made plans.
On a hot August day, she was born, our daughter, we marveled at this little miracle, were thrilled by this perfection, and made plans for our future. Back then, nobody knew anything about "mom scent" and our miracle always smelled slightly of Opium.
And then I received a gift in the hospital, a small bottle, a very unusual shape, at the first sniff light green notes, an immediately present violet, and after a few minutes I had a lush bouquet of flowers on/in my arm, a bouquet that wasn’t assembled based on the flowers matching, but rather the floral scents. Just a little jasmine, but more lily of the valley, the carnation is there, but doesn’t push itself to the forefront, orris root and ylang-ylang frame it all, hold it together, in this frame the flowers flash up again and again, sometimes lily of the valley, sometimes carnation, then jasmine pushes forward and when it recedes again, I look forward to the lily of the valley once more. Very, very slowly these scents glide into a warm bed, the fragrance becomes cuddly, balsamic, and soft, almost soothing through musk and amber, sandalwood makes it sweetish but not sweet, it grounds it and I assume oak moss? makes it mature, special. The flowers flash through again and again even in the base, sometimes in the foreground, but mostly they stay in the background, you sense them, but they merge and form a unity, individual ones can no longer be distinguished. This balsamic enveloping comforting scent lasts for many, many hours.
A few days ago, I had the luck to get a 15 ml bottle new for very little money at a well-known auction house, no one bid on it.
When it arrived, I reverently unpacked it in the evening, freshly showered, and carefully dabbed it on. And suddenly it went bang, it flashed, I was suddenly back in that hospital bed, on my knees our newborn daughter and for the first time after 48 hours I was overwhelmed by such a boundless, overflowing feeling of love, such a great feeling of responsibility for this little being and the realization that I want to be there for this little person forever. And the cuddly, warm, soft, comforting cloud envelops us both and whispers softly. That was the moment when the party girl became an adult.
A few years ago, I bought an Eau de Parfum for a lot of money at this auction house, but it doesn’t trigger this flash, it must be the extrait.
8 Comments
