Gemüsepizza

As a little girl, I loved this perfume. My mother, who still smoked back then, would use it from time to time, and I would always sniff the golden, apple-shaped bottle and occasionally spray it on myself in secret. As I got older, I was determined to own this perfume (or EdP). But when my mother, to my great joy, gifted me a sample bottle, I had to realize that the scent on my skin reminded me not of tangy, fresh apple pie, but rather of gummy apple candies with a dish soap undertone. For many years, the glass vial lay in my treasure chest, in drawers, and eventually made its way into my collection box, because despite everything, I didn't want to part with this keepsake. By then, I had started smoking myself; I don't want to hear your opinion on that. When I stumbled upon the sample again while cleaning up, I wondered if anything had changed in me since then. I dabbed the liquid on, and the familiar apple pie scent filled my nose. Apparently, the smell of smoke on my skin mixed with the perfume. And this isn't due to my impaired sense of smell, as my boyfriend also confirmed that the scent suits me well. For me, it will remain a piece of home, a memory of a time when I didn't yet understand all the worries and problems.