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Last night I dreamed I was back at Manderley
Mrs. Danvers: You don't need to sneak around here. Why didn't you say that you wanted to see Mrs. De Winter's bedroom? I would be happy to show it to you whenever you wish. Come. This morning I just placed her slippers by the bed, just as she liked. I do that every day, as if she were still here.
Here I dressed her in the mornings. "Dannie," she often said, "I completely trust your taste. Whatever you choose for me will be the right thing." She trusted me blindly. And I appreciated her very much. Everyone appreciated Mrs. De Winter. She was the most interesting and beautiful woman one could imagine. No one will ever replace her, not even you.
Mrs. De Winter II: Oh, I wouldn't want that at all -
Mrs. Danvers: And look here, I styled her hair every day. She sat at the dressing table - do sit down! - and I brushed her hair. Just like this. - Do stay seated! - Many times. It was long and brunette. Mr. De Winter was completely crazy about her hair.
When I had finished styling her, she would ask for her perfume. Mr. De Winter had brought it from Monte Carlo. Do you see the many little stars on the bottle? They reminded him of her eyes, Mr. De Winter said.
Mrs. De Winter loved the perfume very much. "Take good care of it, Dannie!" she always said, "It is of unimaginable value to me!" Of course, I was terribly careful with it, so that nothing happened to it.
Would you like to try it? I will dab it on you.
Mrs. De Winter II: Oh no, thank you, that won't be necessary -
Mrs. Danvers: I took the cap and dabbed it on her neck, just like this. Now show me your hands! I put the cap back on the bottle and dripped a few drops on her wrists. You never wear perfume, do you? Gently rub your wrists together, that's what Mrs. De Winter always did. She loved the scent. "Dannie, do you know what?" she sometimes said, "The sharp scent reminds me of our beautiful coast near Manderley. Don't you think so?" I found it sweet instead. Can you smell the carnations, the roses, and the iris?
Mrs. De Winter II: I -
Mrs. Danvers: Of course not, your nose surely isn't fine enough. It smelled sensational on Mrs. De Winter. Everyone loved the powdery scent trail she left behind in the house. You could always tell where Mrs. De Winter had last been. Mr. De Winter sometimes followed her scent trail through Manderley. He could never get enough of it. Look here, the scent is called "Je Reviens." Do you know what that means?
Mrs. De Winter II: My French is a bit rusty, but I think it -
Mrs. Danvers: I return. A meaningful name, don't you think? I am sure that Mrs. De Winter is still in the house. I feel her presence every day. She is not happy. She never liked it when someone tried to take her man away. She could be vengeful. She won't take this lightly. Do you feel comfortable at Manderley?
Mrs. De Winter II: Let me go!
She accidentally brushes against the bottle. It falls to the ground in slow motion.
Here I dressed her in the mornings. "Dannie," she often said, "I completely trust your taste. Whatever you choose for me will be the right thing." She trusted me blindly. And I appreciated her very much. Everyone appreciated Mrs. De Winter. She was the most interesting and beautiful woman one could imagine. No one will ever replace her, not even you.
Mrs. De Winter II: Oh, I wouldn't want that at all -
Mrs. Danvers: And look here, I styled her hair every day. She sat at the dressing table - do sit down! - and I brushed her hair. Just like this. - Do stay seated! - Many times. It was long and brunette. Mr. De Winter was completely crazy about her hair.
When I had finished styling her, she would ask for her perfume. Mr. De Winter had brought it from Monte Carlo. Do you see the many little stars on the bottle? They reminded him of her eyes, Mr. De Winter said.
Mrs. De Winter loved the perfume very much. "Take good care of it, Dannie!" she always said, "It is of unimaginable value to me!" Of course, I was terribly careful with it, so that nothing happened to it.
Would you like to try it? I will dab it on you.
Mrs. De Winter II: Oh no, thank you, that won't be necessary -
Mrs. Danvers: I took the cap and dabbed it on her neck, just like this. Now show me your hands! I put the cap back on the bottle and dripped a few drops on her wrists. You never wear perfume, do you? Gently rub your wrists together, that's what Mrs. De Winter always did. She loved the scent. "Dannie, do you know what?" she sometimes said, "The sharp scent reminds me of our beautiful coast near Manderley. Don't you think so?" I found it sweet instead. Can you smell the carnations, the roses, and the iris?
Mrs. De Winter II: I -
Mrs. Danvers: Of course not, your nose surely isn't fine enough. It smelled sensational on Mrs. De Winter. Everyone loved the powdery scent trail she left behind in the house. You could always tell where Mrs. De Winter had last been. Mr. De Winter sometimes followed her scent trail through Manderley. He could never get enough of it. Look here, the scent is called "Je Reviens." Do you know what that means?
Mrs. De Winter II: My French is a bit rusty, but I think it -
Mrs. Danvers: I return. A meaningful name, don't you think? I am sure that Mrs. De Winter is still in the house. I feel her presence every day. She is not happy. She never liked it when someone tried to take her man away. She could be vengeful. She won't take this lightly. Do you feel comfortable at Manderley?
Mrs. De Winter II: Let me go!
She accidentally brushes against the bottle. It falls to the ground in slow motion.
15 Comments
Translated · Show original
Eau Tannenbaum
A country house, idyllically buried under the Austrian snow. Two older ladies, Omama Mitzerl and Lilibeth, sit at the kitchen table after the gift exchange. Both are visibly worn out from the Christmas Eve events.
Omama: That was the worst Christmas I have ever experienced! I need a nut schnapps to cope with this. Would you like one?
Lilibeth: Just not, thank you, no. But maybe a tiny shot of eggnog?
Omama: I'll bring you one... This is a shame, a real disgrace. I wanted to make you happy. Since morning, I've been in the kitchen slaving away and cooking for you. Just like before, as it should be. And what happens? That Luiserl is getting drunk, the kids are running amok, and the Christmas tree is burning. This is no holy night! How good that Papa doesn’t have to experience this anymore. I always made sure that Papa and Hansi had a nice Christmas. We didn’t have much money. I saved everything from my mouth so that everyone would be happy -
Lilibeth: - you are right, Mitzerl. Ingratitude is the reward of the world. Maureen from London always says that. She hired a private piano teacher for her children and paid for an expensive boarding school, far away in the countryside. And do they ever call? No! I tell you, in the end, we old ones have to stick together. And that’s why I brought you something, dear Mitzerl. I wanted to wait until after the gift exchange so that Kati and Luiserl wouldn’t get jealous.
Omama: That’s sweet. Oh, now I have nothing for you. If you want, I’ll give you two of my self-knitted -
Lilibeth: - for heaven's sake, no, thank you. That’s quite alright, Mitzerl, don’t worry about it. I know that your means are very limited. I expect nothing in return. Here, take it!
Omama: Now I’m curious! Oh, such expensive wrapping paper, what a waste... Oh, what a lovely little bottle is this?
Lilibeth: This is a perfume from France, Nuit de Noël!
Omama: Nüde - what?
Lilibeth: Nuit de Noël. That means Christmas Eve, remember?
Omama: We didn’t learn French in school, only German. And I didn’t stay long either: I had to work hard to get something to eat.
Lilibeth: That’s quite foolish, if you ask me. Foreign languages broaden the horizon. Maureen always quotes Sir Peter Ustinov: “Education is not limited to school. It goes relentlessly on until the end of life.” And he was undoubtedly right. Especially at our age, it’s important that we stay mentally fit. You get senile so quickly, don’t you, Mitzerl?
Omama: I’m not stupid yet, you know. How do I open this bottle now?
Lilibeth: It’s quite simple. Here, we carefully open the wire, then you slowly pull out the cap and dab it on yourself. A drop behind the ears, one on the wrists, and one on the décolletage. And don’t you dare drip it onto a tissue. This is not Tosca, after all!
Omama: Don’t make me laugh. Something as noble as Tosca I’ve never had, only cologne.
Lilibeth: Cologne, that thin soup? We used to call that cleaning lady perfume. Can you smell something already? The perfume contains rose oil from Provence. Very fine and powdery, with a slight bitterness from the iris root. I also think there’s a bit of clove in it. And real oak moss metaphorically transports the darkness of the evening. Do you smell the gloom, Mitzerl?
Omama: No. But it really does smell good, like the ointment from Interspar!
You can watch the two wonderful anti-Christmas films with Mitzerl and Lilibeth on YouTube. Happy holidays!
Single Bells: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sjWBEHvtLAk
Oh Palmenbaum: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F_Iw81dZPPw
Omama: That was the worst Christmas I have ever experienced! I need a nut schnapps to cope with this. Would you like one?
Lilibeth: Just not, thank you, no. But maybe a tiny shot of eggnog?
Omama: I'll bring you one... This is a shame, a real disgrace. I wanted to make you happy. Since morning, I've been in the kitchen slaving away and cooking for you. Just like before, as it should be. And what happens? That Luiserl is getting drunk, the kids are running amok, and the Christmas tree is burning. This is no holy night! How good that Papa doesn’t have to experience this anymore. I always made sure that Papa and Hansi had a nice Christmas. We didn’t have much money. I saved everything from my mouth so that everyone would be happy -
Lilibeth: - you are right, Mitzerl. Ingratitude is the reward of the world. Maureen from London always says that. She hired a private piano teacher for her children and paid for an expensive boarding school, far away in the countryside. And do they ever call? No! I tell you, in the end, we old ones have to stick together. And that’s why I brought you something, dear Mitzerl. I wanted to wait until after the gift exchange so that Kati and Luiserl wouldn’t get jealous.
Omama: That’s sweet. Oh, now I have nothing for you. If you want, I’ll give you two of my self-knitted -
Lilibeth: - for heaven's sake, no, thank you. That’s quite alright, Mitzerl, don’t worry about it. I know that your means are very limited. I expect nothing in return. Here, take it!
Omama: Now I’m curious! Oh, such expensive wrapping paper, what a waste... Oh, what a lovely little bottle is this?
Lilibeth: This is a perfume from France, Nuit de Noël!
Omama: Nüde - what?
Lilibeth: Nuit de Noël. That means Christmas Eve, remember?
Omama: We didn’t learn French in school, only German. And I didn’t stay long either: I had to work hard to get something to eat.
Lilibeth: That’s quite foolish, if you ask me. Foreign languages broaden the horizon. Maureen always quotes Sir Peter Ustinov: “Education is not limited to school. It goes relentlessly on until the end of life.” And he was undoubtedly right. Especially at our age, it’s important that we stay mentally fit. You get senile so quickly, don’t you, Mitzerl?
Omama: I’m not stupid yet, you know. How do I open this bottle now?
Lilibeth: It’s quite simple. Here, we carefully open the wire, then you slowly pull out the cap and dab it on yourself. A drop behind the ears, one on the wrists, and one on the décolletage. And don’t you dare drip it onto a tissue. This is not Tosca, after all!
Omama: Don’t make me laugh. Something as noble as Tosca I’ve never had, only cologne.
Lilibeth: Cologne, that thin soup? We used to call that cleaning lady perfume. Can you smell something already? The perfume contains rose oil from Provence. Very fine and powdery, with a slight bitterness from the iris root. I also think there’s a bit of clove in it. And real oak moss metaphorically transports the darkness of the evening. Do you smell the gloom, Mitzerl?
Omama: No. But it really does smell good, like the ointment from Interspar!
You can watch the two wonderful anti-Christmas films with Mitzerl and Lilibeth on YouTube. Happy holidays!
Single Bells: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sjWBEHvtLAk
Oh Palmenbaum: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F_Iw81dZPPw
18 Comments
Translated · Show original
Where the Adriatic Waves Lick the Shore
Last week we were on vacation.
Yes, you heard right:
We were away!
At the coast, in Istria.
The incidence was low.
No risk area.
No quarantine.
Neither there nor at home afterwards.
We drove by car.
Tiny apartment, AirBnB.
Right in the old town.
In Pula.
Balcony, dishwasher, great mattress.
What more could you want?
And sun. Lots of sun.
And wind. Lots of wind.
Right next to the beach.
And what did I wear there?
Dune by Dior.
You might think:
An amber perfume in the sun, that won't work!
I tell you:
Yes, it does, even the best!
Imagine:
Rocks, sun, birds.
Below you, the waves crash.
And wind.
On the horizon, white ships sail.
Somewhere you hear children playing.
And nothing else.
Just peace and quiet.
You feel free and happy.
The wind blows strongly.
On your skin, you feel the cool air.
And the sun.
A scent rises to your nose:
Aldehydes.
But not retro, not dark, no smoke.
Rather beautifully warm.
Almost dry.
Like sunbeams on your skin.
And then comes the best part:
The heart of sandalwood and vanilla.
None of the two stands out,
but they form a new whole.
The scent is hard to describe.
More a feeling than a scent:
Friendly, inviting, like a hug.
Woody yet soft.
It warms you against the breeze like a jacket.
I want to go back.
Dune takes me there.
Yes, you heard right:
We were away!
At the coast, in Istria.
The incidence was low.
No risk area.
No quarantine.
Neither there nor at home afterwards.
We drove by car.
Tiny apartment, AirBnB.
Right in the old town.
In Pula.
Balcony, dishwasher, great mattress.
What more could you want?
And sun. Lots of sun.
And wind. Lots of wind.
Right next to the beach.
And what did I wear there?
Dune by Dior.
You might think:
An amber perfume in the sun, that won't work!
I tell you:
Yes, it does, even the best!
Imagine:
Rocks, sun, birds.
Below you, the waves crash.
And wind.
On the horizon, white ships sail.
Somewhere you hear children playing.
And nothing else.
Just peace and quiet.
You feel free and happy.
The wind blows strongly.
On your skin, you feel the cool air.
And the sun.
A scent rises to your nose:
Aldehydes.
But not retro, not dark, no smoke.
Rather beautifully warm.
Almost dry.
Like sunbeams on your skin.
And then comes the best part:
The heart of sandalwood and vanilla.
None of the two stands out,
but they form a new whole.
The scent is hard to describe.
More a feeling than a scent:
Friendly, inviting, like a hug.
Woody yet soft.
It warms you against the breeze like a jacket.
I want to go back.
Dune takes me there.
27 Comments
Translated · Show original
My Name is Lohse
Renate and Heinrich are going shopping. Renate's mother's 80th birthday is approaching, and she is treating herself to a new outfit for the celebration. Now she wants to find a suitable perfume to go with it.
Saleswoman: Good day, how can I help you?
Heinrich: Good day, we would like to purchase a perfume.
Saleswoman: Are you looking for a perfume for yourself?
Heinrich: No, it’s for her mother’s birthday.
Saleswoman: My mother?
Renate: No, it’s for the birthday of m-y m-o-t-h-e-r.
Saleswoman: What fragrance notes does your mother prefer?
Renate: Mother likes lavender. But the scent is for me; I want to wear it at her birthday party -
Heinrich: I heard that gerbera symbolizes joy of life. Do you have scents with gerbera?
Saleswoman: I would have to check. But we do have perfumes with carnations. Does your mother like carnation?
Heinrich: My mother wears rose.
Renate: It’s about my mother. And she wears lavender. But as I said, the scent is for me. And I wear -
Heinrich: Yellow carnations stand for disdain.
Saleswoman: I thought they stand for availability?
Heinrich: No, those are white carnations. White carnations stand for availability.
Renate: I would like a scent that is as natural as possible -
Saleswoman: And red carnations?
Heinrich: They stand for passion.
Renate: I don’t want to get a headache from it.
Saleswoman: I thought that was roses. Roses stand for passion, don’t they?
Heinrich: No, they symbolize love.
Renate: Sometimes I wear bergamot; maybe you have something in that direction?
Saleswoman: And what about tulips?
Heinrich: Pink tulips mean affection. White tulips, on the other hand, stand for reserve.
Renate: Disdain. Which flower stands for disdain?
Saleswoman: Does your mother wear tulips?
Heinrich: Yellow carnations. Yellow carnations stand for disdain. Listen to me!
Saleswoman: That’s interesting. We have scents with carnations.
Renate: I don’t particularly like the scent of carnations.
Saleswoman: It’s also about your husband’s mother.
Renate: It’s about my mother!
Heinrich: Mother wears rose.
Saleswoman: Look, I have something here with rose.
Renate: But I would like something without flowers -
Saleswoman: May I spray it on you?
Heinrich: No, wait! Mother wears rose. I usually wear nothing myself.
Saleswoman: I thought your mother wears lavender?
Renate: My mother. My mother wears lavender.
Saleswoman: I will spray something with lavender on you. Please roll up your sleeve.
Heinrich: Lavender symbolizes the defense against the devil. But also purity.
Saleswoman: The devil?
Renate: So please stop spraying!
Heinrich: Yes, the defense against the devil, but also memory.
Saleswoman: That’s interesting.
Renate: I would really like a scent without flowers.
Saleswoman: But you said your mother wears lavender. Lavender is a flower, isn’t it?
Heinrich: Lavender is a labiatae.
Renate: Yes, she wears lavender.
Heinrich: Mother wears rose.
Saleswoman: I will wrap it up for you.
Heinrich: Will it be cheaper if we take 50 bottles?
Saleswoman: Good day, how can I help you?
Heinrich: Good day, we would like to purchase a perfume.
Saleswoman: Are you looking for a perfume for yourself?
Heinrich: No, it’s for her mother’s birthday.
Saleswoman: My mother?
Renate: No, it’s for the birthday of m-y m-o-t-h-e-r.
Saleswoman: What fragrance notes does your mother prefer?
Renate: Mother likes lavender. But the scent is for me; I want to wear it at her birthday party -
Heinrich: I heard that gerbera symbolizes joy of life. Do you have scents with gerbera?
Saleswoman: I would have to check. But we do have perfumes with carnations. Does your mother like carnation?
Heinrich: My mother wears rose.
Renate: It’s about my mother. And she wears lavender. But as I said, the scent is for me. And I wear -
Heinrich: Yellow carnations stand for disdain.
Saleswoman: I thought they stand for availability?
Heinrich: No, those are white carnations. White carnations stand for availability.
Renate: I would like a scent that is as natural as possible -
Saleswoman: And red carnations?
Heinrich: They stand for passion.
Renate: I don’t want to get a headache from it.
Saleswoman: I thought that was roses. Roses stand for passion, don’t they?
Heinrich: No, they symbolize love.
Renate: Sometimes I wear bergamot; maybe you have something in that direction?
Saleswoman: And what about tulips?
Heinrich: Pink tulips mean affection. White tulips, on the other hand, stand for reserve.
Renate: Disdain. Which flower stands for disdain?
Saleswoman: Does your mother wear tulips?
Heinrich: Yellow carnations. Yellow carnations stand for disdain. Listen to me!
Saleswoman: That’s interesting. We have scents with carnations.
Renate: I don’t particularly like the scent of carnations.
Saleswoman: It’s also about your husband’s mother.
Renate: It’s about my mother!
Heinrich: Mother wears rose.
Saleswoman: Look, I have something here with rose.
Renate: But I would like something without flowers -
Saleswoman: May I spray it on you?
Heinrich: No, wait! Mother wears rose. I usually wear nothing myself.
Saleswoman: I thought your mother wears lavender?
Renate: My mother. My mother wears lavender.
Saleswoman: I will spray something with lavender on you. Please roll up your sleeve.
Heinrich: Lavender symbolizes the defense against the devil. But also purity.
Saleswoman: The devil?
Renate: So please stop spraying!
Heinrich: Yes, the defense against the devil, but also memory.
Saleswoman: That’s interesting.
Renate: I would really like a scent without flowers.
Saleswoman: But you said your mother wears lavender. Lavender is a flower, isn’t it?
Heinrich: Lavender is a labiatae.
Renate: Yes, she wears lavender.
Heinrich: Mother wears rose.
Saleswoman: I will wrap it up for you.
Heinrich: Will it be cheaper if we take 50 bottles?
44 Comments
Translated · Show original
Have yourself a merry little Christmas
Silence. Candles flicker, their lanterns resting on a bed of fir branches, pine cones, and rose hips. Among them, a few glass baubles. Three drops of fragrance oil in the diffuser, cedar. Armchair, feet up.
“I’m dreaming of a white Christmas” - Michael Bublé duets with Shania Twain. And the most important thing: A small, white box from Chanel. I carefully take the bottle out. It is still sealed. A thin paper skin under the cord with the seal. Cutter knife. Will it work?
“...just like the ones I used to know. Where treetops glisten and children listen to hear sleigh bells in the snow…”
This year, I have set myself the goal of transforming my collection from quantity to quality. It should consist of noble extraits and my favorite classics. I love the feeling of sensual luxury that only a pure perfume can exude. Thus, this autumn, I sold about 10 fragrances. With the proceeds, I wanted to treat myself to a single, wonderful extrait. Almost fateful, I then found exactly what I had long wanted in the souk: The perfume of Bois des Iles. In my first perfume weeks nearly three years ago, Turandot had sent me a select assortment of fragrance samples, including Bois des Iles as an Eau de Toilette. Fascinated by its Chanel-esque shine, I soon had to welcome a remaining bottle of it into my collection.
“Have a holly-jolly Christmas, that’s the best time of the year. I don’t know if there’ll be snow but have a cup of cheer…”
And as a perfume, it is now to become my Christmas gift to myself. I thought long about the right moment. Open it on Christmas Eve, with family? Too much distraction, too little attention for the sandalwood dream. Celebrating with my sweetheart a few days later? Again, too much commotion with cooking and entertaining the cat. No, my Bois des Iles should have a special moment. Intimate, just with me alone. I want to fully immerse myself in the enjoyment.
And today is the right evening for it. Michael has now arrived at “Silent Night,” supported by a children’s choir. On YouTube, I saw that you don’t necessarily have to cut the cord with the seal to pull out the stopper. Carefully score the thin paper skin. Just a little more. Pull on the scrap.
“Sleep in heavenly peace, sle-he-p in heavenly peace…”
It moves. And it’s out. The first hurdle is taken. Now it’s about finding the right balance between strength and finesse while turning. Slowly, the stopper moves. And it can be pulled out. The cord and the seal are intact. Done!
“I’ll be home for Christmas. You can plan on me. Please have snow and mistletoe and presents by the tree…”
The scent rises from the bottle neck. Golden, light, somewhat serious. And expensive. Dabbing a few drops on my wrist. Familiar. And yet a new impression. More aldehyde than the EdT, festive, green. An adult rose bathes in champagne. A light smoke hangs over the scene.
“Sleigh bells ring, are you listening? In the lane, snow is glistening. A beautiful sight, we’re happy tonight, walking in a winter wonderland…”
Creamy sandalwood emerges. It shines silver in all its Chanel-like glory. Powdery, warm-enveloping, and cool-distant at the same time.
Inhale. A hint of vetiver as a contrast to the sandalwood radiance, pure luxury. Christmas can come.
“Feliz navidad, feliz navidad. Prospero año y felicidad…”
“I’m dreaming of a white Christmas” - Michael Bublé duets with Shania Twain. And the most important thing: A small, white box from Chanel. I carefully take the bottle out. It is still sealed. A thin paper skin under the cord with the seal. Cutter knife. Will it work?
“...just like the ones I used to know. Where treetops glisten and children listen to hear sleigh bells in the snow…”
This year, I have set myself the goal of transforming my collection from quantity to quality. It should consist of noble extraits and my favorite classics. I love the feeling of sensual luxury that only a pure perfume can exude. Thus, this autumn, I sold about 10 fragrances. With the proceeds, I wanted to treat myself to a single, wonderful extrait. Almost fateful, I then found exactly what I had long wanted in the souk: The perfume of Bois des Iles. In my first perfume weeks nearly three years ago, Turandot had sent me a select assortment of fragrance samples, including Bois des Iles as an Eau de Toilette. Fascinated by its Chanel-esque shine, I soon had to welcome a remaining bottle of it into my collection.
“Have a holly-jolly Christmas, that’s the best time of the year. I don’t know if there’ll be snow but have a cup of cheer…”
And as a perfume, it is now to become my Christmas gift to myself. I thought long about the right moment. Open it on Christmas Eve, with family? Too much distraction, too little attention for the sandalwood dream. Celebrating with my sweetheart a few days later? Again, too much commotion with cooking and entertaining the cat. No, my Bois des Iles should have a special moment. Intimate, just with me alone. I want to fully immerse myself in the enjoyment.
And today is the right evening for it. Michael has now arrived at “Silent Night,” supported by a children’s choir. On YouTube, I saw that you don’t necessarily have to cut the cord with the seal to pull out the stopper. Carefully score the thin paper skin. Just a little more. Pull on the scrap.
“Sleep in heavenly peace, sle-he-p in heavenly peace…”
It moves. And it’s out. The first hurdle is taken. Now it’s about finding the right balance between strength and finesse while turning. Slowly, the stopper moves. And it can be pulled out. The cord and the seal are intact. Done!
“I’ll be home for Christmas. You can plan on me. Please have snow and mistletoe and presents by the tree…”
The scent rises from the bottle neck. Golden, light, somewhat serious. And expensive. Dabbing a few drops on my wrist. Familiar. And yet a new impression. More aldehyde than the EdT, festive, green. An adult rose bathes in champagne. A light smoke hangs over the scene.
“Sleigh bells ring, are you listening? In the lane, snow is glistening. A beautiful sight, we’re happy tonight, walking in a winter wonderland…”
Creamy sandalwood emerges. It shines silver in all its Chanel-like glory. Powdery, warm-enveloping, and cool-distant at the same time.
Inhale. A hint of vetiver as a contrast to the sandalwood radiance, pure luxury. Christmas can come.
“Feliz navidad, feliz navidad. Prospero año y felicidad…”
21 Comments
