Nordnase

Sunday, 10 o'clock in the morning in Germany. Here with me.
The sun's rays fall into the room, coffee scent drifts through the house.
After a long shower, the opulent breakfast is waiting - my little luxury after a busy week as always.

Freshly baked rolls and all sorts of goodies are waiting in the kitchen.
I enjoy the first sip of hot coffee and smell on me this scent, which I put on after the shower...
It refreshes, makes you feel good and yet has edges. Nothing sweet.
I am so what of enthusiastic..
At first, it starts woody and resinous, cypress and cedar in alternation.
Breakfast forest feeling. That's already wonderful.

I go out into the garden and the fresh air multiplies the woodsy nuances. The weather is too nice to sit inside, I carry all the utensils to the garden table and celebrate my morning start. The summer can come !!!

The scent is changing. Now join tart plums and some cinnamon, the appropriate jam is ready..... Buttery-steaming, the jam almost drips down from the bun, a delight.

I crack open my boiled egg and think about what's coming up today. Some things still need to be fixed in the garden, almost everything is planted - it just needs to grow...
Breakfast is almost finished, another sip of coffee, the crumbs are for the birds and squirrels...and other critters..

I stride across the lawn with far too many dandelions and countless daisies, but I like it so wild....Warm vanilla and musky notes accompany me with every step, a wonderful finish. A comforting coziness lulls me to sleep.

This is the way to start the day.

Is that happiness?

Yes.


Breakfast Thoughts

As I sat at the table at breakfast,
drinking the coffee, eating the roll,
it suddenly occurred to me:
Why and who and what am I?

I pondered for a very long time,
if fate, meaning and misfortune
i could explain to myself?
But this was not granted me.

Then I wanted to analyse:
Was I often happy? If yes, when?
And had immediately determined
that it's with me the balance holds.

How can I shape a future
in which my happiness can unfold?
Can I avoid it at all,
not to suffer too much and often?

How much is there in my hands?
What will fate twist and turn?
Is everyone the architect of his own fortune?
To what extent do I direct what happens?

A "Help yourself, then God will help you!",
sounds too simplistic, easy, snappy to me.
I suppose there's a grain of truth to it,
though it can't help me now.

So I kept thinking, all the time
... and whether I was doing the right thing?
In the end I came to the conclusion:
Much brooding also brings much annoyance!

Ah, the moral of the story?!
I don't know myself.

By Corinna Herntier

The day ends.

The sun is already sleeping behind the trees, a last silent blue still shines above the firs.

In a moment, the all-glowing one closes her eyes and I enjoy this moment of silence and the quiet farewell of the day.

There is nothing more beautiful and peaceful.

May time simply stand still.

This one moment.

And tomorrow? Tomorrow, we're going to save the world. I'm sure we will. We'll keep trying.

Against the darkness.

We can't help it.

A drop wets my skin. Tart herbal delight in the rainbow garden. Roses in leather pants sing their song, they're so cool. Suspenders in vanilla holsters, they strut through my garden, spreading grated almonds and withered fruit.

They wander over woods, resins and all manner of plants, I follow them. I close my eyes and suck up every particle of scent through my battered nose.... (yes, it can still smell, despite testomania...)

What a potpourri...

Peaceful soft amber follows warmly.

Wrapped in a vanilla blanket.

I pull out the pillows and curl up in my blanket.

Good night.

To all of you.

Everything will be fine.

Hopefully.

Everything used to be better, we had no C. and more tinsel.
A little more carelessness and security defined our existence, especially when it came to yodeling, shopping and vacuuming.

Hollerie du Dödel die - Du Dödel Do - that was just still the 2nd future tense at sunrise, that much was certain. You noticed adorable noodles on your face and could effortlessly destroy a room's furnishings within minutes because of a picture hanging askew..... Gentlemen discussed politics in the bathtub and nakedly unplugged a duck... Yes, that was how it was......

Why am I writing this. Because it was just so entertaining and I miss Loriot so immensely. His subtlety, his wonderful wordplay and his unsurpassed talent to portray stuffy, clumsy and awkwardly embarrassing fellows amusing and without hurting. The woman of those days just needed a yodelling diploma and to cook the egg properly by feel.... Back in the day, the rep really did come around and there were canapés and wine...

What did the woman of those days smell like? Like miss hamann, er miss dior?

I can't help but think of her at the first Miss Dior spray. Old-fashioned-chypry, specific-interesting, wise. The fragrance begins with darkly tart galbanum, elegant florals and sage. Mrs. H. floats by with curlers, fresh vegetables and cutlets, just as hubby arrives, quickly putting some flowers on the table and fixing the hairstyle. A few carnations, roses and some jasmine branches are in the vase.

Mrs. H. has to hurry, tonight it is to go to the opera and there will NOT be chatter about politics! A fresh shirt for the beloved hangs ready, Mrs. H. hurries once again to the bathroom and puts on Miss Dior.

Oh, what a fragrance, Mrs. H. is delighted in her Chypre fragrance cloud and dances through the apartment, sipping the representative wine, tapped and original corked by Pallhuber & Sons, and sings at the same time angetüdert: It sucks and blows the Heinzelmann, where Mutti can otherwise only suck...

Noises in the door lock, the Göttergatte enters the homely apartment and says lustfully: Renate, let's go to the seating area (made of sandalwood)...
But Mrs. H. has other things to report quickly: Honey, I have my yodeling diploma. There I have what in the hand and I have as a woman the feeling that I stand on my own feet, there I have what own. Du Dödel Du The Dö.

Hubby smiles tiredly, runs his fingers through her curls and says: You smell so good...Don't say anything now, Renate, my fair daffodil....
You know, in the fall we then open with the Pope a men's boutique in Wuppertal...

A soft dark chypry veil hangs in the room, the couple hurries to the opera.
And the lawn is still green.....scent story.

I say.

Miss Dior - a fine chypry ensemble with wonderful memories of Loriot and Evelyn. Unforgettable.


PS: Women also have their good... ;-)))))

In fact, the name doesn't fit this fragrance that brings a smile to my face, it chases away the grey and bland. Hooked by Leni's Scent on YT I ordered myself a bottling and am quite delighted. Gris thrilled !

The fragrance starts with a fine unobtrusive cardamom tea note, I smell fig only very faintly. (a pure fig fragrance I have also never smelled.)

This herbal-fruity opening lingers for a long time, then iris follows with woody elements. It makes everything shine, wonderful in the iridescent colors of the rainbow appears this fragrance section. Restrained sandalwood together with a noble clay note end the ensemble and give the fragrance an enchanting finale.

Is Gris a reference to Gris, that young girl in the play who is lost in her world - preoccupied with a painful experience? Her journey through grief manifests in her dress, which gives her new abilities to move through her faded grey reality. She wakes up in the palm of a collapsing statue of a woman. Gris falls, but gets back up and enters mysterious world. She collects points of light (stars) and gains wondrous abilities. She encounters strange beings and evil creatures, has to fight many battles in windmills, forests and caves, and in the end defeats evil through song. She, the statue and the colors of the world are saved.

Gris gives hope and the strength to overcome things that seemed impossible before. Gathering lights against the colorless reality that is often cruel-gray-dim...

There are new paths and ways to explore, to rise above.
With collected stars united against the evil of the world.

If only it were that simple...

Go for Gris.

.......
once sang an acclaimed pop star in the east of the country many years ago.

Young, beautiful and unspoiled (?)- I don't know if he still sings, but this song still rings in my ears. It was so unusually different and the guy was smart.....girls' hearts melted...

Like a star on a summer night, love is when it awakens radiant... Is the idyllic glow deceptive? The lovely bottle resembles a golden drop, noble and romantic at the same time, quite lady-like. Chic. Shines brightly and clearly through space and time - like a star from infinity...

Radiant and in full bloom opens idyll, lily of the valley, lilacs and fresias scream around the bet....Build a giant bouquet and sway with grasses and strong jasmine in colorful mess. The rose is almost without a chance. But it still joins in and all in all the crowd of blossoms becomes heavy, almost obtrusive. Loud fragrance idyll. It stays that way for now.

Then a slightly pungent, inexplicable note develops, is that supposed to be ylang-ylang? If, then very artificial. Musk I perceive only faintly, the floral is very loud, until the end. I used to like this fragrance, today it's too jumbled for me, too loud and the final pungent note bothers me (a little).

This fragrance is different, so quite atypical for Guerlain. The recognition experience is missing and at first moment I thought : this is a Guerlain ? Where is the typical DNA, where the subtlety ? There is none here. Restless floral clutter with a somewhat penetrating finish.

Idyll is different, as is the young singer's song of the time. Maladjusted- but endearing, not quietly and controversially-in love.

Still, we don't become friends, Idylle and the Frank's schmaltz.

Idylle and me - that was once upon a time. It has burned out.