Kollerl

The Vladimir that comes to mind with this fragrance is a very sympathetic one.

From Vladimir Horowitz, the gifted concert pianist who still delighted concert halls with wit and virtuosity as a shaky old man, two things have been passed down to me.

First, the quote "Who iiibt, has neetig."

This was, of course, a cheeky flirtation, as if he didn't have "neetig." I find it very likely that he didn't just run through boring finger exercises but played "real" pieces to keep his long fingers agile. He didn't practice; he played. A fine distinction.

Secondly, the resurrection in the middle of a concert.

When Horowitz returned to the concert stage after many years of absence, the audience was delighted. The experts were pleased as well, but even more, they were curious about how well the maestro would still perform.

The orchestra began, the piano had a break, only to then enter with 3 chords, actually just 3 notes.

The entry came - and Horowitz flubbed it.

Completely. Totally. Utterly.

So much so that everyone heard it. A shock.

He then somehow muddled through the first movement but surprisingly regained his composure and delivered a second movement that brought tears of gratitude to the audience's eyes.

I like to think of this Vladimir when I experience this fragrance.

The first tasting overwhelmed me.

The second sniff revealed a creamy-woody symphony that winds through southern citrus and cedar groves. The wind continually brings new aromas of wild herbs and resins.
The journey does not become boring over hours.

Recently, they mixed up my tea order at the pharmacy. When I wanted to pick up my order, it wasn't ready. They hurriedly got to mixing it. Meanwhile, the boss herself offered me a coffee: "Would you like a cappuccino?" I sat down - delighted by such nice error management - in the corner where sugar measurements are usually taken and enjoyed an surprisingly good coffee.
I savored those few minutes of oasis in the everyday, until my order was ready.

This fragrance transports me back to that pharmacy. Something very medically correct comes to mind. Fortunately, the antiseptic quality fades quite quickly and transforms into a marvelous delight.
A masterful pleasure, where sometimes leather (which is not listed), sometimes coffee notes, then steamy earthiness, and then again spicy notes and wood flash through.

Complexity and transparency are not incompatible.
This is what this fragrance shows.

One can be relieved: no beluga whale had its hairless skin pulled over its inner ears to be tanned for this fragrance.
Even though "Leather" is prominently featured in the name: in my olfactory experience, it gets overshadowed by vanilla pudding.

It is a high-quality vanilla pudding, please don't get me wrong.
It is a premium pudding of the highest class.
This pudding comforts, provides security, lowers blood pressure, acts as a stress blocker, and warms the heart and soul.
This pudding has grandma qualities.

I just had hoped for more leather.

Many years ago, I attended a memorable training course. Alexander Van der Bellen was the speaker for the seminar week.
At that time, he was not yet the President of Austria, no, he wasn't even the federal spokesperson for the Greens. However, he was already a Green member of the National Council. As I said, it was a very, very long time ago.
He - already quite the gentleman back then - opened the seminar week with "I hope it doesn't come across as too familiar if I suggest using the seminaristic 'you' as a form of address." I can't help but smile when I think back on it. No, we didn't find it too familiar and for a few days, we were just on a first-name basis with him, calling him Sascha.

During the week, some participants made the observation about how good Sascha smelled. At first, no one dared to ask what fragrance he was wearing, until one participant finally mustered the courage to ask. Completely perplexed but friendly and factual, VdB replied: Fahrenheit Eau de Toilette.

This fragrance is inextricably linked to that week and to Alexander Van der Bellen for me.
If he still wears the fragrance, I wish the people in his current environment that they can enjoy it for a very, very long time.

One of the rituals during Advent in my childhood was baking gingerbread. Our family recipe called for "a cup of honey."
Honey was, of course, already stored and sold in jars back then.

What went into our gingerbread was so-called art honey: sticky, thin, light yellow, super sweet, yet somehow also fresh. It was probably colored sugar syrup with a pinch of citric acid. It was the post-war economic miracle time with its fatal deviations that also affected kitchens. Bees would have shuddered and shaken off their fur, seeking refuge if they weren't already taking a break in December.

We kids loved this stuff and fought over who got to lick the white plastic cup.

This art honey didn't just taste sugary, but somehow had a very slight hint of vanilla and also a bit of freshness.
That exact scent dominates Velvet Teddy and beamed me back to the gingerbread baking room of my childhood in February. I love such unexpected time travels.

As it develops, vanilla and tonka pleasantly join in without completely overshadowing the art honey, giving the whole thing some structure. For me, it's a winter evening leisure fragrance.