InBlossom4me
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Translated · Show original
Midnight Ball ...
A dark rose blocked her way as she tried to take a shortcut through the park. Velvet blue, delicately fragrant, with powerful thorns. Not of this world. Her royal blue taffeta dress with the silk train got caught, petals flew in all directions, a tear in the dress revealed her athletic legs.
Time was running away from her. She had to hurry.
Fog lay over the sleeping city, only her quick footsteps could be heard. From afar, she heard applause, a cacophony of voices, a beautiful melody. The ball had begun!
If only she had gone with the others, but she hadn’t been ready yet ...
Dazzling moonlight fell on the wet asphalt as she rushed to the old ballroom. She ran the last few meters barefoot, her ball shoes in hand by the leather straps.
When she reached the entrance, she paused. In a tiny velvet pouch she wore on her wrist, she had hidden her treasure, a fragrance as mysterious as this night promised to be.
Her feet were black from the earth, her hair exuded a vanilla-like scent. She dabbed her face, breathing heavily, ran a comb through her shiny hair, and moistened her skin with
Midnight Poison Eau de Parfum ...
What could possibly go wrong now?
She knocked on the door. A man in uniform opened it for her.
"There you are at last, Eva. Where have you been?
Your feet are all covered in dirt. Why didn’t you come with us?
But - you smell like an angel!"
"Yes, darling. This is a fragrance by Dior that I got at the souk from Parfumo.
Can you imagine that you can't buy it in stores anymore?! Sometimes I hate the perfume business ...
I’m thirsty. Let’s go get drunk. First, I need to wash the park off my feet. Here ... look ... what a beautiful bottle!"
He inhaled her seductive scent and looked through the turquoise, glittering glass that she held up to the moonlight. Light reflections danced in the convex lines.
Then there was the sound of glass shattering.
Someone had knocked over their champagne glass.
Her heart raced, she clutched her treasures to her and would never let them go.
Shimmering, opulent, elegant, dark, grounded, seductive.
An incomparable fragrance that will remain only in guarded treasure chambers.
Time was running away from her. She had to hurry.
Fog lay over the sleeping city, only her quick footsteps could be heard. From afar, she heard applause, a cacophony of voices, a beautiful melody. The ball had begun!
If only she had gone with the others, but she hadn’t been ready yet ...
Dazzling moonlight fell on the wet asphalt as she rushed to the old ballroom. She ran the last few meters barefoot, her ball shoes in hand by the leather straps.
When she reached the entrance, she paused. In a tiny velvet pouch she wore on her wrist, she had hidden her treasure, a fragrance as mysterious as this night promised to be.
Her feet were black from the earth, her hair exuded a vanilla-like scent. She dabbed her face, breathing heavily, ran a comb through her shiny hair, and moistened her skin with
Midnight Poison Eau de Parfum ...What could possibly go wrong now?
She knocked on the door. A man in uniform opened it for her.
"There you are at last, Eva. Where have you been?
Your feet are all covered in dirt. Why didn’t you come with us?
But - you smell like an angel!"
"Yes, darling. This is a fragrance by Dior that I got at the souk from Parfumo.
Can you imagine that you can't buy it in stores anymore?! Sometimes I hate the perfume business ...
I’m thirsty. Let’s go get drunk. First, I need to wash the park off my feet. Here ... look ... what a beautiful bottle!"
He inhaled her seductive scent and looked through the turquoise, glittering glass that she held up to the moonlight. Light reflections danced in the convex lines.
Then there was the sound of glass shattering.
Someone had knocked over their champagne glass.
Her heart raced, she clutched her treasures to her and would never let them go.
Shimmering, opulent, elegant, dark, grounded, seductive.
An incomparable fragrance that will remain only in guarded treasure chambers.
14 Comments
Translated · Show original
The Day You Came to Me …
… was a Saturday in May, in that year.
The day I brought you, my "Allure (Eau de Toilette) | Chanel," to me.
The air fresh and clear, the cicadas just hatched. It smelled of honey and freshly brewed coffee, somewhere in the distance a dog barked in the olive groves.
There lay Dia before me, the little island I had never set foot on, in the morning mist. The sea was calm and light blue and mirror-smooth, and the night had finally passed.
I had sat by the sea and mourned a love I could not hold.
It was broken, and I knew I had to look forward. Someone else was now with you, and my crystal heart had shattered into a thousand pieces …
My island filled with laughing, noisy children.
At the reception, the suitcases of the newcomers piled up, people with tired, expectant eyes drank sparkling champagne from chalices arranged in a pyramid.
I had to get out of here, for today. Away from all that holiday happiness, at least for a day. I urgently needed - a new perfume. Something that wouldn’t remind me with every spray of past times, past happiness, and that broken love.
The bus drove along the old coastal road above the cliffs by the sea, while the locals crossed themselves at every hairpin turn.
My eyes stared into the distance, over to Dia, the beautiful stranger. The sea was so calm that you couldn’t see where it ended and the sky began.
Finally a free day, finally.
My destination was the perfume shop at the Morosini fountain, in the heart of the city.
From today, you were available, and everything in me longed for you.
I had long seen the ads for the new Chanel perfume Allure, cut from women’s magazines and immortalized in my diary.
Without knowing you.
Diane Kruger in black and white - beautiful. Laetitia Casta, Kirsty Hume …
I read about your notes, read that you were supposed to unite all 6 fragrance facets in a single composition and hoped so much that I would like you.
I will never forget the moment I lifted the small, square bottle from the shelf in the store. The silver cap with the Chanel logo, the capital letters, the delicate yellow color of the perfume, the first spray. I was instantly in love again.
You were different - and yet so familiar. New and - yet so Chanel. Comforting - because you brought me hope. There is a after. After the before. There must be!
Sweeter, warmer than my beloved "Cristalle (Eau de Parfum) | Chanel."
And most importantly: Mine!
Sparkling fragrant, of fully ripe mandarins and orange fruits and already - of vanilla, of something abstract, intangible. Floral, rose-like, full of blossoms. You just bubbled over. Peach juice, almost clear, sweet … from young peaches with rosy skin, white-fleshed, aromatic and firm. Those that willingly give up their pit when the fruit is opened. Your top note reminded me of overflowing Crémant, of which one must not drink too much if one wants to keep a clear head. Already after a few moments, I could sense the notes in the base, warm, grounded, sweet, something that would hold me. Had I not seen them written down, I wouldn’t have been able to name them right away. Just describe.
I would have bought you without testing you.
“My darling …,” I thought. Immediately, I held you close to my heart.
*
And so I walked past her.
The new scent was foreign. Foreign to her.
It no longer belonged to her.
*
Baby, tell me … does she love you
Like the way I love you
Does she stimulate you
Attract and captivate you
Tell me does she miss you
Existing just to kiss you
Like the way I do
~ Melissa Etheridge, 1988, Like the way I do
The day I brought you, my "Allure (Eau de Toilette) | Chanel," to me.
The air fresh and clear, the cicadas just hatched. It smelled of honey and freshly brewed coffee, somewhere in the distance a dog barked in the olive groves.
There lay Dia before me, the little island I had never set foot on, in the morning mist. The sea was calm and light blue and mirror-smooth, and the night had finally passed.
I had sat by the sea and mourned a love I could not hold.
It was broken, and I knew I had to look forward. Someone else was now with you, and my crystal heart had shattered into a thousand pieces …
My island filled with laughing, noisy children.
At the reception, the suitcases of the newcomers piled up, people with tired, expectant eyes drank sparkling champagne from chalices arranged in a pyramid.
I had to get out of here, for today. Away from all that holiday happiness, at least for a day. I urgently needed - a new perfume. Something that wouldn’t remind me with every spray of past times, past happiness, and that broken love.
The bus drove along the old coastal road above the cliffs by the sea, while the locals crossed themselves at every hairpin turn.
My eyes stared into the distance, over to Dia, the beautiful stranger. The sea was so calm that you couldn’t see where it ended and the sky began.
Finally a free day, finally.
My destination was the perfume shop at the Morosini fountain, in the heart of the city.
From today, you were available, and everything in me longed for you.
I had long seen the ads for the new Chanel perfume Allure, cut from women’s magazines and immortalized in my diary.
Without knowing you.
Diane Kruger in black and white - beautiful. Laetitia Casta, Kirsty Hume …
I read about your notes, read that you were supposed to unite all 6 fragrance facets in a single composition and hoped so much that I would like you.
I will never forget the moment I lifted the small, square bottle from the shelf in the store. The silver cap with the Chanel logo, the capital letters, the delicate yellow color of the perfume, the first spray. I was instantly in love again.
You were different - and yet so familiar. New and - yet so Chanel. Comforting - because you brought me hope. There is a after. After the before. There must be!
Sweeter, warmer than my beloved "Cristalle (Eau de Parfum) | Chanel."
And most importantly: Mine!
Sparkling fragrant, of fully ripe mandarins and orange fruits and already - of vanilla, of something abstract, intangible. Floral, rose-like, full of blossoms. You just bubbled over. Peach juice, almost clear, sweet … from young peaches with rosy skin, white-fleshed, aromatic and firm. Those that willingly give up their pit when the fruit is opened. Your top note reminded me of overflowing Crémant, of which one must not drink too much if one wants to keep a clear head. Already after a few moments, I could sense the notes in the base, warm, grounded, sweet, something that would hold me. Had I not seen them written down, I wouldn’t have been able to name them right away. Just describe.
I would have bought you without testing you.
“My darling …,” I thought. Immediately, I held you close to my heart.
*
And so I walked past her.
The new scent was foreign. Foreign to her.
It no longer belonged to her.
*
Baby, tell me … does she love you
Like the way I love you
Does she stimulate you
Attract and captivate you
Tell me does she miss you
Existing just to kiss you
Like the way I do
~ Melissa Etheridge, 1988, Like the way I do
12 Comments
Translated · Show original
Chilled Elegance …
… that is you.
Narrow black pants, at the hips - with a slight flare.
Shiny black bob, amber-colored eyes, black eyeliner, shimmering skin, dark red velvet lips, with “Pirate” on the nails. Or “Lotus”.
You wear a fine wool-white silk blouse, tied with a bow at the neck. You wear white pearls in your ears, sling pumps, and a black cashmere jacket.
Your companion loves your perfume and prefers to wear it himself.
Noble, classic, serious, elegant, seductive.
Aldehyde rush at the beginning, no sweetness, a hint of citrus with dreamily fragrant, white-fleshed flowers. Exotic flowers, magnificent, synthetic.
Expensive, silk-paper-wrapped, snow-white soap. With a golden seal.
Jasmine and Ylang Ylang, nestled in aldehyde sparkle.
A hint of rose, a long-lasting, enchanting note even in the base.
Your colors are not … they are only yellow gold.
White.
Black.
Mother-of-pearl, cool and precious.
You are eternally young.
Narrow black pants, at the hips - with a slight flare.
Shiny black bob, amber-colored eyes, black eyeliner, shimmering skin, dark red velvet lips, with “Pirate” on the nails. Or “Lotus”.
You wear a fine wool-white silk blouse, tied with a bow at the neck. You wear white pearls in your ears, sling pumps, and a black cashmere jacket.
Your companion loves your perfume and prefers to wear it himself.
Noble, classic, serious, elegant, seductive.
Aldehyde rush at the beginning, no sweetness, a hint of citrus with dreamily fragrant, white-fleshed flowers. Exotic flowers, magnificent, synthetic.
Expensive, silk-paper-wrapped, snow-white soap. With a golden seal.
Jasmine and Ylang Ylang, nestled in aldehyde sparkle.
A hint of rose, a long-lasting, enchanting note even in the base.
Your colors are not … they are only yellow gold.
White.
Black.
Mother-of-pearl, cool and precious.
You are eternally young.
18 Comments
Translated · Show original
Atlantic Island …
… I walk down the gangway.
Pure, clear air.
Down into freedom, into life. Off to the taxi, to the south.
In my luggage, the Heliotrop body lotion, New West and you,
Cristalle Eau de Parfum; leaving my old life behind in boxes and crates, a luxury miniature of you in my pocket.
The moment I perceive you for the first time remains unforgettable. I fumble the Bakelite cap off the bottle and dab the first precious drops onto my wrist.
Wuuuuusaaaaa!
A cornucopia of freshness, citrus, and hyacinth pours over me, a sharp alcohol vapor rises to my nose, soon dissipating into ripe peach and a hint of iced watermelon, jasmine, rose … perhaps … ultimately sinking into a deep green something in mossy completion.
I am intoxicated with happiness.
And then I embrace Chypre, the princess in the turquoise Atlantic; she, balancing a crown of lemons and bergamot peels, wraps her salt-kissed tanned skin in layers of cooling silk. Her jewelry made of driftwood and turquoises - or is it chrysocolla? - remains on the beach.
Her skin?
Mine?
I have forgotten.
We are by the sea, at night. The stars are clear now. The waves crash thunderously against the shore.
We hide in the stone castles made of lava from the world.
Until dawn.
Every day, every night begins and ends with you.
From then on, we are inseparable.
You are seduction, doom, happiness, and pain all at once.
You inherited your beauty from your mother, whose bitter features you do not embody.
A hint of apricot, white peach, like when I light the Lucky Strike with the Zippo; gasoline and love, desire and satisfaction all at once.
When you leave, a trace of cold smoke remains, as if someone extinguished a smoldering cigarette butt Cartier pearl tipped with lemonade. Quickly! Zisssssch, the smoke is gone.
From you remains a wonderful green woody oakmoss note and the memory of the beginning, with which you protect me and carry me through the storms, through time, even the hard times.
The clinking of melting ice cubes on metal still in my ears, I fall in love at first sight with her. A piece of lemon peel splashes over the edge and falls onto her tanned toes in gigantic, far too large Hodge-Podge flip-flops.
Our eyes meet. She smiles.
My wonderful Cristalle.
Pure, clear air.
Down into freedom, into life. Off to the taxi, to the south.
In my luggage, the Heliotrop body lotion, New West and you,
Cristalle Eau de Parfum; leaving my old life behind in boxes and crates, a luxury miniature of you in my pocket. The moment I perceive you for the first time remains unforgettable. I fumble the Bakelite cap off the bottle and dab the first precious drops onto my wrist.
Wuuuuusaaaaa!
A cornucopia of freshness, citrus, and hyacinth pours over me, a sharp alcohol vapor rises to my nose, soon dissipating into ripe peach and a hint of iced watermelon, jasmine, rose … perhaps … ultimately sinking into a deep green something in mossy completion.
I am intoxicated with happiness.
And then I embrace Chypre, the princess in the turquoise Atlantic; she, balancing a crown of lemons and bergamot peels, wraps her salt-kissed tanned skin in layers of cooling silk. Her jewelry made of driftwood and turquoises - or is it chrysocolla? - remains on the beach.
Her skin?
Mine?
I have forgotten.
We are by the sea, at night. The stars are clear now. The waves crash thunderously against the shore.
We hide in the stone castles made of lava from the world.
Until dawn.
Every day, every night begins and ends with you.
From then on, we are inseparable.
You are seduction, doom, happiness, and pain all at once.
You inherited your beauty from your mother, whose bitter features you do not embody.
A hint of apricot, white peach, like when I light the Lucky Strike with the Zippo; gasoline and love, desire and satisfaction all at once.
When you leave, a trace of cold smoke remains, as if someone extinguished a smoldering cigarette butt Cartier pearl tipped with lemonade. Quickly! Zisssssch, the smoke is gone.
From you remains a wonderful green woody oakmoss note and the memory of the beginning, with which you protect me and carry me through the storms, through time, even the hard times.
The clinking of melting ice cubes on metal still in my ears, I fall in love at first sight with her. A piece of lemon peel splashes over the edge and falls onto her tanned toes in gigantic, far too large Hodge-Podge flip-flops.
Our eyes meet. She smiles.
My wonderful Cristalle.
16 Comments
Translated · Show original
Fairies, Stars, Sparkle …
… were my first associations.
This new fragrance - optimistic, sparkling, and pleasing from start to finish. A delightful bitter-almond sweet beginning without cyanide or indolic off-notes. A disappointment for the sad cousin with dark patchouli eyes. She had hoped for warmth, silence, and comfort, which she does not find here. I hold her in my arms and feel her pain, which manifests in bitter tears. I blow her a cherry blossom petal, one made of silk. Spring has long since passed.
Beautiful powdery iris appears, transitioning into soft pleasure. A flash of great Chanel favorites in the rather unsurprising scent progression. Violets, reminiscent of Misia, bloom quickly in connection with water. Aldehydes and the finest powder, like in the vintage extrait of No.5, flit by. The flowers of Beige wave from afar and - are quickly picked.
Before me stands a Cristalle vase in the La-Pausa house, the air vibrating to the rhythm of Bel-Respiro, as I take my place at the finely set table. Spotlessly clean crystal glasses serve the finest soda with a hint of sour cherry from the dream garden.
My wallet is light, yet my soul is in seventh heaven.
Hallelujah, how beautiful you are, you comet star.
This new fragrance - optimistic, sparkling, and pleasing from start to finish. A delightful bitter-almond sweet beginning without cyanide or indolic off-notes. A disappointment for the sad cousin with dark patchouli eyes. She had hoped for warmth, silence, and comfort, which she does not find here. I hold her in my arms and feel her pain, which manifests in bitter tears. I blow her a cherry blossom petal, one made of silk. Spring has long since passed.
Beautiful powdery iris appears, transitioning into soft pleasure. A flash of great Chanel favorites in the rather unsurprising scent progression. Violets, reminiscent of Misia, bloom quickly in connection with water. Aldehydes and the finest powder, like in the vintage extrait of No.5, flit by. The flowers of Beige wave from afar and - are quickly picked.
Before me stands a Cristalle vase in the La-Pausa house, the air vibrating to the rhythm of Bel-Respiro, as I take my place at the finely set table. Spotlessly clean crystal glasses serve the finest soda with a hint of sour cherry from the dream garden.
My wallet is light, yet my soul is in seventh heaven.
Hallelujah, how beautiful you are, you comet star.
17 Comments
