Dkk
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Dkk
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Welcome back
Why doesn't it smell good anymore? Like bargain basement water for 4 fifty. Musty, boring, nasty. What's wrong? Is it me? The bottle I received has been sprayed maybe 10 times. It's easily been on the shelf for 2 years. I've given up on it. Probably a fake. Stale, stored incorrectly?! That's enough! I now use it to disinfect my sneakers. In with the plonk, 6-7 puffs in each of the stinky shoes...
And yet I know:
He can hug you and let go. Sometimes he's there and then suddenly gone. Sometimes it gives you the most beautiful woody notes the morning after a night of drinking in a smoking club when you wake up on someone else's couch - and sometimes not!
Sometimes fresh, sometimes spicy, sometimes sweet. It can change direction and is usually not linear. It can be summer - then comes the fruit. It can be watermelon, which I love - but it doesn't always want to. It can be inconspicuous or attract attention. It can do winter. It can do vanilla. He can get out the pepper mill. He can do Christmas and give you a load of cinnamon. He's unpredictable but never exhausting. He's exciting, always somehow different. It's not boring. Nothing linear and heart note this, headphones blah. This is the pineapple. Just a grab bag.
I loved it for that. I've often bought it but unfortunately lost sight of it in recent years.
......
Please come back. Pepper me one! Show me the melons! Be a little sweet you cinnamon bitch!!!
After I had misused it as a disinfectant, it had to be tested again on my wrist. Already different, already better. Does the bottle just need to be blown through every now and then like a diesel particulate filter? Is it like a beer keg that has to be run through? Is it you or me? Maybe we'll become friends again! I actually like you. Why are you doing this to me? And why were you so grumpy with me? I'll be watching you.
And yet I know:
He can hug you and let go. Sometimes he's there and then suddenly gone. Sometimes it gives you the most beautiful woody notes the morning after a night of drinking in a smoking club when you wake up on someone else's couch - and sometimes not!
Sometimes fresh, sometimes spicy, sometimes sweet. It can change direction and is usually not linear. It can be summer - then comes the fruit. It can be watermelon, which I love - but it doesn't always want to. It can be inconspicuous or attract attention. It can do winter. It can do vanilla. He can get out the pepper mill. He can do Christmas and give you a load of cinnamon. He's unpredictable but never exhausting. He's exciting, always somehow different. It's not boring. Nothing linear and heart note this, headphones blah. This is the pineapple. Just a grab bag.
I loved it for that. I've often bought it but unfortunately lost sight of it in recent years.
......
Please come back. Pepper me one! Show me the melons! Be a little sweet you cinnamon bitch!!!
After I had misused it as a disinfectant, it had to be tested again on my wrist. Already different, already better. Does the bottle just need to be blown through every now and then like a diesel particulate filter? Is it like a beer keg that has to be run through? Is it you or me? Maybe we'll become friends again! I actually like you. Why are you doing this to me? And why were you so grumpy with me? I'll be watching you.
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Best of Davidoff
In the early 2000s I started a well deserved holiday trip to far away Italy with a friend. We deserved this trip after all the trouble in vocational training, with girls and what else we had to do when we were 18 or 19 years old.
Weakened by the long drive, we arrived in the evening. I think it was in Bibione. It's obvious that we had to strengthen first. We did this with a stone oven pizza and beer. We wanted to take care of a hotel room later.
Slowly it dawned. Off to the beach. With some canned beers as provisions we made ourselves comfortable on the deck chairs of a hotel beach. Some beers Later it was long dark and the search for a hotel in our condition seemed hopeless. We didn't even try to spend the night in the fully loaded Fiat Punto, with which we had travelled. Why should I? The sunbeds were good, the temperature mild. That was our camp for the night!
We talked, drank beer, were happy and had made peace with the world. At some point two boys with a pretty girl in tow passed us, walking towards the beach. Everybody about our age. In the glow of some funky beach lanterns they discovered us. They came up to us and spoke to us unkindly, in German. Maybe because our couches were close together, someone asked "are we gay?" The two boys seemed to be brushed on riot. Today I know that they probably wanted to proliferate in front of their girl. I'm sure they were trying to get it together. Nothing but long us as far as this. Peace!!! Often we had held hands in order to act as if we were a couple in the tranquil area where we lived. This only served to shock us, which we managed to do a few times already. So we did this now. So, smart as I was, I answered, "speak English?" They had swallowed the roast. One of them said something like "Gaylords", then they went on towards the stand and made fun of what "faggots" we are.
We didn't care about those three at first. They spent some time on the shore, walking around in the gentle waves and sitting down in the sand. After some time, they made their way back. They walked a few meters past our sunbeds, specifically past a conspicuous sand castle whose surroundings were marked by a strikingly large hole. All three jumped one after the other into the 80 cm deep hole, which was probably dug by play children during the day. My friend and I watched everything closely. We had to laugh like seldom before, which did not go unnoticed. The three of them approached us again. When asked, "What's going on," my buddy said, "We got into the hole **issen". As a matter of fact, I did. Where else, after all, we had few alternatives. When our three friends were also convinced of this, they went to rabble a little bit, but then cleared the field embarrassingly touched.
one may find this factual report unappetizing, but never again have I experienced that bad karma so promptly falls back on you. That was the echo!!!..
A few days before the start of my trip, I had purchased my first "premium fragrance" for 54 euros (after all, one seventh of my monthly salary), i.e. Echo. Before, I had taken countless samples of it, but I wanted to have it unlimited for the upcoming summer. Echo was my entry into the perfume world. He's been through so many moments that I'll never forget. To date I have easily consumed one liter of it.
A colleague at work says every time I wear it, it's cucumber water. Fine with me. But it is the cucumber that floats in a finely made gin tonic. One interspersed with egg cubes. No ingredient seems cheap. It's not sweet, inferior cucumber water. But one that you have to sip again and again, one that never made me sick like Jacky-Cola.
Wood floats in this icy gin, freshly harvested wood. Leather. Something indefinably fruity, but miles away from the sticky sweet mainstream of today's perfumes. Pepper, colorful, coarsely ground pepper is part of the game. Maybe some Inwger, a whiff. Definitely spice. This all seems somehow synthetic but not dishonest and certainly not unsympathetic.
Echo knows how to surprise. Sometimes it is still present the next morning, after a long pub night (smoker pub), sometimes the magic has gone after felt 3 hours. The silage's not a big deal, it's OK. The drydown, which is very close to the skin and characterised by woody, leathery notes, is wonderful on the other hand. One often perceives the scent a little changed as expected. But never disturbing or unround, the individual components sometimes stand out a bit more, I always found the last tenth of the bottle best. Compliments were rare, compared to other fragrances (like Black Roses XS), which I often wore at that time. This may be due to the target group.
I'm coming to this one now. That's why I'm writing this comment. A few days ago a sporty, grey-skinned gentleman drove past me in stop & go traffic. Sunglasses, black polo shirt. He drove a black Mercedes AMG-GTS Roadster. He smoked his cigar casually and ashed it in the onboard ashtray. The throttle valve of the exhaust system was adjusted so that there was hardly any noise pollution from the vehicle. The Lord was no show-off like you often see them in such bulimia. More like a gentleman who's made it to something attractive for his age.
I happened to walk past his vehicle later that was parked with the top down and saw the silver Davidoff cigar tubes in the center console. These reminded me of Echo.
I wondered how this gentleman smelled. There's a lot of stuff I could do. But what Davidoff scent could he wear? Cool Waters? - somehow too insignificant. Zino? - might fit, but somehow bland, too conservative. Hm, maybe he is the lucky owner of some (fabulous) Relax remainders. Certainly he doesn't wear Hot Water, The Game, Horizon, Run Wild or whatever Davidoff has done the last few years.
No, it has to be Echo. Would that suit such a gentleman. Yes!!! That's what I like about him. It seems timeless to me. Echo is timeless.
Long hired, for me the best Davidoff scent I've ever smelled. He's still available for little money. Maybe no one's crying for him. I do. My childhood sweetheart. For me, a yardstick, memories, habits. Finest cucumber water that I will miss one day because it is far superior to the fresh scents of today.
Weakened by the long drive, we arrived in the evening. I think it was in Bibione. It's obvious that we had to strengthen first. We did this with a stone oven pizza and beer. We wanted to take care of a hotel room later.
Slowly it dawned. Off to the beach. With some canned beers as provisions we made ourselves comfortable on the deck chairs of a hotel beach. Some beers Later it was long dark and the search for a hotel in our condition seemed hopeless. We didn't even try to spend the night in the fully loaded Fiat Punto, with which we had travelled. Why should I? The sunbeds were good, the temperature mild. That was our camp for the night!
We talked, drank beer, were happy and had made peace with the world. At some point two boys with a pretty girl in tow passed us, walking towards the beach. Everybody about our age. In the glow of some funky beach lanterns they discovered us. They came up to us and spoke to us unkindly, in German. Maybe because our couches were close together, someone asked "are we gay?" The two boys seemed to be brushed on riot. Today I know that they probably wanted to proliferate in front of their girl. I'm sure they were trying to get it together. Nothing but long us as far as this. Peace!!! Often we had held hands in order to act as if we were a couple in the tranquil area where we lived. This only served to shock us, which we managed to do a few times already. So we did this now. So, smart as I was, I answered, "speak English?" They had swallowed the roast. One of them said something like "Gaylords", then they went on towards the stand and made fun of what "faggots" we are.
We didn't care about those three at first. They spent some time on the shore, walking around in the gentle waves and sitting down in the sand. After some time, they made their way back. They walked a few meters past our sunbeds, specifically past a conspicuous sand castle whose surroundings were marked by a strikingly large hole. All three jumped one after the other into the 80 cm deep hole, which was probably dug by play children during the day. My friend and I watched everything closely. We had to laugh like seldom before, which did not go unnoticed. The three of them approached us again. When asked, "What's going on," my buddy said, "We got into the hole **issen". As a matter of fact, I did. Where else, after all, we had few alternatives. When our three friends were also convinced of this, they went to rabble a little bit, but then cleared the field embarrassingly touched.
one may find this factual report unappetizing, but never again have I experienced that bad karma so promptly falls back on you. That was the echo!!!..
A few days before the start of my trip, I had purchased my first "premium fragrance" for 54 euros (after all, one seventh of my monthly salary), i.e. Echo. Before, I had taken countless samples of it, but I wanted to have it unlimited for the upcoming summer. Echo was my entry into the perfume world. He's been through so many moments that I'll never forget. To date I have easily consumed one liter of it.
A colleague at work says every time I wear it, it's cucumber water. Fine with me. But it is the cucumber that floats in a finely made gin tonic. One interspersed with egg cubes. No ingredient seems cheap. It's not sweet, inferior cucumber water. But one that you have to sip again and again, one that never made me sick like Jacky-Cola.
Wood floats in this icy gin, freshly harvested wood. Leather. Something indefinably fruity, but miles away from the sticky sweet mainstream of today's perfumes. Pepper, colorful, coarsely ground pepper is part of the game. Maybe some Inwger, a whiff. Definitely spice. This all seems somehow synthetic but not dishonest and certainly not unsympathetic.
Echo knows how to surprise. Sometimes it is still present the next morning, after a long pub night (smoker pub), sometimes the magic has gone after felt 3 hours. The silage's not a big deal, it's OK. The drydown, which is very close to the skin and characterised by woody, leathery notes, is wonderful on the other hand. One often perceives the scent a little changed as expected. But never disturbing or unround, the individual components sometimes stand out a bit more, I always found the last tenth of the bottle best. Compliments were rare, compared to other fragrances (like Black Roses XS), which I often wore at that time. This may be due to the target group.
I'm coming to this one now. That's why I'm writing this comment. A few days ago a sporty, grey-skinned gentleman drove past me in stop & go traffic. Sunglasses, black polo shirt. He drove a black Mercedes AMG-GTS Roadster. He smoked his cigar casually and ashed it in the onboard ashtray. The throttle valve of the exhaust system was adjusted so that there was hardly any noise pollution from the vehicle. The Lord was no show-off like you often see them in such bulimia. More like a gentleman who's made it to something attractive for his age.
I happened to walk past his vehicle later that was parked with the top down and saw the silver Davidoff cigar tubes in the center console. These reminded me of Echo.
I wondered how this gentleman smelled. There's a lot of stuff I could do. But what Davidoff scent could he wear? Cool Waters? - somehow too insignificant. Zino? - might fit, but somehow bland, too conservative. Hm, maybe he is the lucky owner of some (fabulous) Relax remainders. Certainly he doesn't wear Hot Water, The Game, Horizon, Run Wild or whatever Davidoff has done the last few years.
No, it has to be Echo. Would that suit such a gentleman. Yes!!! That's what I like about him. It seems timeless to me. Echo is timeless.
Long hired, for me the best Davidoff scent I've ever smelled. He's still available for little money. Maybe no one's crying for him. I do. My childhood sweetheart. For me, a yardstick, memories, habits. Finest cucumber water that I will miss one day because it is far superior to the fresh scents of today.
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