DonDonDon

When I quit smoking, one method of several that helped was to bring a full ashtray to your nose when you had a strong craving and then, very slowly and deliberately, smell it. The smell of the cold ashes and condensate was so disgusting that the acute desire to smoke was immediately relieved.

This introduction is, admittedly, rather misleading for a description of T-Rex. After all, the great Saurus doesn't actually have anything in mind with full ashtrays, at most those that have fallen into a pool full of fresh floral absolutes. Tobacco also seems rather out of place as an olfactory description, so, you might ask, what now? I'll get to that in a moment.

First, I must preface the compliment that I experience this creation as an indescribable fascination. There has perhaps been mixed from components something, which one - individually and for itself - could always clearly name and assign. The result, however, is clearly far more violent than the sum of its parts and something completely different from anything I have been privileged to know so far. Such a violent feeling of ambiguity as to what has probably been conflated here in terms of content is something I have experienced, with simultaneous enthusiasm and great emotion, only last with Stercus, and that was quite a while and several dozen rehearsals ago (technical side note: Stercus is not similar, I mention him only because he occupied my mind to a similar degree).

And by now, he's got me all hooked up, the T-Rex. But right. Today I thought for the umpteenth time, he's clearly a candidate for a positive write-up, he deserves it, he's unquestionably a great one, though probably to few. And as I've done so many times before, I pulled off the lid of my sample and sniffed full of favor, only to be struck once again with the impression that what my nose is perceiving is, linguistically, inadequate at best.

So, with that in mind, and at the same time as if I'd been given it as an assignment by an outside person, I sat down again in peace (but in peace, alone in the room, no appointments, no noises, no disturbances), held the sample up to my nose, and inhaled slowly, nostrils flared, but without "looking" ... soberly, so to speak, and without intention, haste, or goal. And suddenly there it was, that metal ashtray, poured out but uncleaned, less as a smell, more as a visual association. And above it, lots and lots of floral essence, heavy, concentrated, like clumps of lilies in a hermetically sealed smokehouse. That was the image, although neither cold ash nor lily are recognizable as such. But quite a lot of intermediate tones from these spheres.

Some reader*in will now say that I have broken me here in the attempt to put my feelings and perceptions into words, quite a broken one. Is yes right. But just so it had to come out. The T-Rex, in all its heaviness, ambivalence and uncompromisingness, has actually become one of my favorites. And that circle is very, very small. Of course, I unquestionably have a tit, a big one at that. But when T-Rex comes on in the morning, it sings songs by Roy Orbison.

What more can I say? Thank you for that scent, Zoologist. Someone had a big heart for exotics, if only those with money in their pockets. Anyway, a sample always goes.

A long time ago, it must have been sometime in the early to mid-nineties, I was walking along Düsseldorf's Königsallee and wanted to get to the bank quickly. I can't remember whether it was Deutsche Bank, Commerzbank or Sparkasse back then, it doesn't matter. In any case, it was a huge branch with a lot of prestige and pomp. And in the foyer there was this, I'd say "installation" - a pedestal or free-standing block with or without a showcase, I can only see it dimly. In any case, a perfume was exhibited there, a bottle with a pump sprayer. The perfume was an opaque dark brown liquid and you could either take samples or get one on request. And the whole thing smelled like pure horse droppings, it was a real stable of the finest, so completely unembellished. The contrast to the bench fascinated me and left an indelible impression. On top of that I liked this horse perfume, well ... somehow. Now I wasn't a perfume wearer at that time and forgot the story for a long time, until I remembered it about three years ago (indelibly). I started researching and looked for traces and clues about this happening in the bank a quarter of a century ago - all in vain. And so I got to know Parfumo, registered and asked as a first official act in the forum if anyone would know a fragrance that smelled like a horse stable. I was advised amicably to rub myself with ammonia or to get in close contact with a horse. Of course there were all kinds of names I had never heard of: "Stercus", "Dzing!", "Lui", "3.1 Arabian Horse", "Muscs Koublai Khan" and many more. I'm sure there was something from "Parfums de Marly", too. I got to know all of them little by little and many more. Olfactory universes opened up, there were some nasal cleft noses (thanks Louis1!) and the horse stable receded - naturally - into the background. Until today (!), just now, frustrated and scared in view of the upcoming intermediate exams (concerning my retraining), I stopped in front of the shelf of "Parfums de Marly" in Leipzig's Karstadt, the best local address for perfume. I've had all their fragrances before and didn't expect a big surprise, but after extensive testing I fell in love with "Hamdani" again. He talks to me and says it very clearly: "Good day, I am a horse. My apples have caramel, my fur smells like sunshine and I behave like a fleeing animal." Wicked! Hamdani makes me happy for a short time, as long as the test strip lasts and that's not very long. For spraying it lacks cash, because the 100 ml are with € 215.- not quite as cheap as I would like it. But it doesn't matter, because there is the souk, thank god. In this sense: "The liaison has been rekindled, brought home by the guide ring" ;-)))