Puderperle

I can remember the exact moment when I met you for the first time. As if it was only yesterday. You were introduced to us as a new colleague. I wasn't prepared for it. I was prepared for a new colleague, but not for the effect you had on me.
All the impressions came flooding in over the next few days, so many names and work processes. All the hustle and bustle was a good disguise for me. So you couldn't see that I was watching you. Quite unabashedly.
You could never remember my name, I said it to you five times. Whenever we had fleeting contact. I never held that against you. You're far too charming for that. Besides, you have little dimples in your cheeks when you get embarrassed. So ask me my name a thousand more times. I'll never get tired of telling you.

I find myself creating reasons to stay close to you.
Every time I make eye contact with your blackcurrant eyes, my heart stops for a moment and your smile moves mountains. Or makes it rain coriander seeds. Yes, strange things happen in your presence.

Your strength. It's enormous. You enter the room and you fill every corner with a presence that puts robbers to flight. Probably because you're made of oud wood.
You once mentioned that winter is your time. That's definitely the case. Your cheeks have never been rosier. Knitted sweaters with strong saffron threads keep you warm and give your surroundings a pleasant sillage. You defy the cold and melt icebergs. Is this due to the oriental touch? The fire of the desert glows inside you.

Unfortunately, your name wasn't on my Secret Santa list. God had not heard my prayer. You politely smiled away the old snowman-scented candle so as not to offend Günther.
I, on the other hand, would have given you the world. Or a horse, so we wouldn't have to steal it first. That would save us time and we could leave straight away. You probably can't do anything with stars, you're too tough. You'd pluck them from the sky yourself. Without a ladder. You don't need a man for that.

The scent of your hair hypnotizes me even at a distance. How do you think it feels? No. I am a man of decency and respect. I will not touch you. Except... there are no limits to my thoughts. And in my imagination, I slowly take two steps closer, smell your hair... very delicately, musk and vanilla...

"Is everything all right?"
Caught red-faced, I don't dare look you in the eye. Was I staring? Did you buy my stammered white lie about looking for the stapler? I doubt it was in your hair.

No. I'm not a stalker. I never will be. Allow me to express my sincere admiration for the beauty of your character. For the fact that your open laughter is captivating. And allow me to pay you the compliment you've probably never heard before: Your brain is sexy.
The combination of cleverness and healthy self-confidence make it.

You can be cute when you want to be. But you'd rather leave the job to other colleagues. An assertive businesswoman who also feels comfortable in a wine-red evening dress, that's more likely to be you. Nevertheless, you don't take a brute approach, but retain your femininity with a rose in your hand. Patchouli grounds you quietly in the background.
I think leather jackets would suit you very well, by the way.

You are my insider tip. Would I tell my friends about you? For God's sake, never. They would permanently block my view of you with their inquisitive minds. Too much publicity doesn't help your character either. Imagine everyone looking for the stapler!

Am I weird if I say I look forward to every Monday morning and am already mourning on Friday? Every day with you is a precious gift, yes I'm not exaggerating. Knowing you are close to me is pure bliss.

Will I send the letter to you? Heavens no. Although - I'm sure you'd remember my name. But no. I decide against it and prefer to remain your most loyal admirer in secret. You're the true icon for me. You make it hard not to love you.

P.s. The red Monday rose on your keyboard is mine.

Etienne A.

Piotr Chanelski was getting impatient. He had already been waiting 45 minutes for his young guest. Today, for the first time, he would be interviewing the well-known perfume influencer Tonka Böhnchen, or artist name "Tonkanillo", for a YouTube episode. With his incredible reach, Mr. Böhnchen is closer to the people and knows what young people love. This interview was intended as an exchange between two experts in their respective fields, i.e. the luxury niche and the mainstream.

Adjusting the paisley handkerchief again, one last look at the embroidered velvet loafers.

"Hey Yooo what's up?"

Mr. Chanelski was torn from his thoughts when a young man - he estimated him to be about 23 years old - with torn jeans and a scuffed leather jacket that was two sizes too big for his slender body, threw himself backwards onto the dark green velvet couch.
The host's politely outstretched hand was only answered with a fist salute on the second attempt, accompanied by the remark that the Rolex was too heavy. What's the point of an apology or polite small talk, thought the young guest. They're all here because of him.

"What's going on Diggaaaa? Where are the drinks?"

Mr. Chanelski tried to cover his horror by clearing his throat.
Mrs. Saint-Laurentski, the assistant with a clipboard under her arm and reading glasses on her nose, came tippling over and pointed to the finely arranged serving tray with nuts and the finest droplets, which were decoratively placed in crystal glasses on the mahogany side table.

"Eh eh I want Coohla!"

She snapped her finger and instructed the long-haired cameraman to bring a Coke.

"Nope, we don't have any, I've been thinking. We only have sparkling water, that's all I can do now...", which he brought balanced on the tray.

Mr. Chanelski tried to show no hint of annoyance through extraordinary control of his facial muscles. He was just a young man who had not yet outgrown the boor. He was supposed to be good at his job because of the huge community and, as we all know, that brings people together when they find common ground. He had no doubt about that. Due to his busy schedule, he had not yet been able to get a real picture of the Influencer. This was not at all in keeping with his phlegmatic, professional manner. Good preparation is everything. Well then, he would have to prove his spontaneity. He straightened his back, quickly smoothed out his checked pleated trousers and exhaled. The dimmed light and soft jazz music in the background would help him relax.

"Mr. Boehnchen or Tonkanillo. Now that you've been taken care of, we'd like to start the interview. We're running out of time. Are you ready?"

Nod of the head.

Okay. Camera is running.

"Ladies and gentlemen. I am delighted to be here with my guest today, Tonka Böhnchen..."

"SHIT!"

What for what? Mr. Chanelski blinked into the light.

"Mr. Böhnken, could you please take a friendly look at the camera? It looked like you had burped. You can't do it like that, you know..."

"Yes, sorry, I can't do anything about your strange water there..." *Bölb*

Ok, new attempt.
Mr. Chanelski started again and asked the guest to introduce himself in a nutshell, as previously agreed in the correspondence. The focus should of course be on the fragrance business.

After extensive explanations about his protein protein shake, the tangled shoelace, the run-in louse cat, the botched driving test, as well as three pee-pee and two What's App breaks, it seemed that Mr. Böhnchen was now ready to talk about the 5 most popular fragrances after the countless attempts to get him back.

Every muscle in Piotr Chanelski's body tensed. Just keeping his spirits up that this was really working now. He personally didn't care whether it was 5 or 3 fragrances. The main thing was that the interview would finally get to the point.
A forced smile appeared on his face:
"Mr. Böhnchen, you are popular for freely expressing your enthusiasm about a fragrance. Will you share with us what you think is the most popular fragrance for women? Which fragrance should a lady wear to smell irresistible?"

Mr. Boehnchen was busy catching nuts out of the air with his mouth.

"A lady? Yes, I can tell you. Just a moment...."
The smacking guest bent down next to the side table, apparently looking for something. "Huh?...",
stood up and walked to the wardrobe before he plopped down on the sofa again. Since the couch was still new, Mr. Chanelski involuntarily rocked on the springs with a stiff posture.

The cameraman exhaled in exasperation, but resignedly let the recording continue.

"What kind of bottle do you have there?" asked Mr. Chanelski.

"Oh, that stupid thing... go on now...Ouch.... " the influencer awkwardly shook the pink and white packaging, but couldn't hold the bottle in time...
Rrummms... kuller... kuller...

Now they were all crawling around under the sofa looking for the perfume bottle that had rolled out. Mrs. Saint-Laurentski tore her nylon stockings in the process, but found the bottle.

"So what can you tell us about this fragrance?"

"Yes, it's just awesome!"

"Okay, what does it smell like?"

*Pftpftpft*

"SÄÄÄXXXX!"

Mr. Chanelski wasn't sure if he had just heard correctly.
"Mr. Böhnchen, please tell our curious viewers which fragrances make up the scent in the pyramid. What do you perceive?"

"Yesssss..."

*12x Pftpftpfffffft around poor Mr. Chanelski's head*

He did his best to suppress the cough that was beginning to form.
"Well, Mr. Bean, I detect sugar in the very sweet top note..."

"Yes... Zuckazuckazuckaaaaaaaa and Säääääx...!"

The cameraman was already waving his arms and pulling his sweater up over his nose due to the strong sillage.

Mr. Böhnchen seemed to spray himself into a trance with his mouth open and began to do funny pirouettes.
Mr. Chanelski got reddish glassy eyes from the irritable cough, which could no longer be covered with make-up. It was as if the room was filled with sweet raspberries, caramel sweets and roasted almonds. His neatly parted side parting stuck to his forehead like cotton candy, as did the cloth handkerchief with which he tried to dry the caramelized drops of sweat.

Meanwhile, Ms. Saint-Laurentski took a look at the interview life ticker she was in charge of. An incredible number of people were online... she now asked the question in the chat, the answer to which had not yet been satisfactory in the interview:
"What does pink sugar smell like?"
4 million teenagers posted at the same time as if from one mouth: "Yay!"
Then it was clear: they love it.
-----------------
I'm a little ashamed to admit that Tonkanillo described the fragrance perfectly.
My teenage years have already passed, but sometimes I still get the bottle out. I am always amazed that the fragrance is so well received by those around me. Rarely have I received such overwhelmingly positive feedback. Tangy raspberry and bergamot, vanilla cotton candy, caramel sweets and sweet almonds. That's what I perceive. A fragrance that is simply fun.

It's not easy in dating life. Especially not if you're a celebrity.
Because you can never be sure whether potential partners are just out to get a slice of the fame pie and the benefits that come with it or whether they are actually interested in you as a person. After all, success is sexy. It's like getting drunk on someone. Once the high is over, the attraction is gone. So it's important to be selective.

So he sat a little listlessly at the worn, gloomy bar and watched the second hand on his wristwatch. His date was due to arrive at any moment. He had already factored in an obligatory delay. After all, a beautiful lady takes her time.

He owed his success to his biggest vice. Tobacco. He went down in history as the "Marlboro Man". Pure masculinity galloping across the prairie. Bareback, of course. Shying away from risk had never been his thing. That's why he had gone on a date without having seen the woman beforehand. Because the photo showed nothing but black rasta braids.

He was just about to light his 17th cigarette when he recognized the outline of an hourglass silhouette in the haze of smoke. She approached, waving wildly.

"Was the special effect for me?" she asked, grinning.

His jaw literally dropped. So this was the mysterious "MilliVanilli"!
The skin-tight dress in earth tones was tailored to her body, the slit reaching almost to her hips. With a movement of her head, she twirled the long rasta braids out of her face so that he could see her bright green eyes. What a contrast to the beautiful cocoa-colored skin. He resisted the urge to touch her arm to test whether she also felt like velvet.
What an appearance!

She slapped her hand on her cleavage, he must have still been staring at her with his mouth open. "Uh uh I wasn't looking at your cleavage".

"Like that? Where else?"

"On your necklace."

Still covering her cleavage with her hand, she asked him about the pendant.
He enumerated every detail of the threaded tonka bean, including the sweetly beguiling scent it exuded.
Good, he hadn't lied. A little more relaxed, she pulled up a bar stool, which showed off her long legs particularly well. To avoid another gawking situation, the cowboy tried to squint at it as inconspicuously as possible. Something seemed different here. It shimmered on the skin, but he couldn't place it. Was it the hair? She seemed to have guessed his thoughts again.

"That's not hair. They are resins. Why they are there remains my secret. I only reveal that to the one who captures my heart."

Wow. What an interesting person! Now he was filled with ambition and fire. Then he remembered his present for her. Anyone can give roses. She curiously inspected the contents of the brown bag. Dried fruit and pieces of jellied ginger, harvested from his ranch. Delicious!

"Marlboro Man," she said, chewing. "I like your outfit. Hat, spurred boots and the jeans. That's how people know you. And where's your horse?"

"It's in the hallway around the corner." Before he could finish the sentence, she jumped up, chuckling, to prove him wrong. After all, she could pull her own leg. As she turned the corner and peered into the darkness, a soft muzzle nudged her. She screamed and the horse neighed. Startled, she dashed past the bar towards the exit. Now the poor cowboy got a fright, seeing the chance of a lifetime simply dash away. Since hunting and speed were his home, he pulled the lasso from his belt, swung it through the store and caught the lady by the waist just in time. Then he gently pulled her towards him to wrap her reassuringly in his arms. No man had ever fought for her like this before. This was in a different league, he knew his trade. And slowly she began to melt in his embrace, lifting one leg and wrapping it around him. Now, at the latest, the secret of the resin was revealed to him, which glued the two of them together forever as a perfect match.

+++ Happy ending +++

When I first tried it, the combination of Tobacco Vanilla seemed just as unusual as the two main protagonists from the bar. Smoky and sweet at the same time. For me, the tobacco combines the coarse, masculine side. The vanilla is reminiscent of a vanilla biscuit and exudes a certain Christmas magic with a good deal of spice. Together, the combination is interesting. That's why it is clearly unisex wearable.
The sillage would knock a real cowboy out, that's how strong I find it. This makes the fragrance - as often recommended here - an ideal companion for outdoor Christmas markets or discreetly dosed for other winter gatherings. The spiciness is due to the ginger. I can't smell any fruit for the life of me. Cocoa? That's right. Only when I look at the pyramid can I guess.

The scent caught me with its lasso, it will always remain a love of mine.

Anyone who has lived in a rented apartment for a long time will appreciate the luxury of owning their own home. But if you have neither been blessed with a decent inheritance nor been lucky enough to be married to a Russian oligarch, you have no choice but to manage your pennies wisely. The bank can always help out with the rest.
For the appointment with the credit department, I put on my green, cozy sweater and reached for the "Burberry for Women | Burberry" bottle.
I found the yellow liquid quite fitting for the outfit and the occasion. A well-groomed and cheerful customer is certainly happy to grant a loan.

"What do you need a loan for?" the friendly bank advisor asked me. She was in her early 20s and very smartly dressed. She ushered me into the glassed-in office with a wave of her hand.

I told her about my dream of building a modest little house. However, my savings were only enough for half a tiny house. She took a deep breath and pondered. Then she asked me if I wanted my own garden next to the house. Oh yes, of course I would love to have one. "After all, apple trees need space," she said.
Strange, how did she know that? I hadn't mentioned them at all. She continued, "Imagine you're looking out into the greenery, the sunflowers bowing their heads in the warm evening..." she blinked and shifted a little in her chair, obviously dazzled. Warm rays refracted in the glass mirroring and flooded the room.

The door opened and a colleague placed a tray of crisp Granny Smith apples decorated with blackcurrants on the table between us. His eyes fell on my loan application. The house should ideally face south or south-west. What could be nicer than being able to enjoy the evening sun on the veranda after a hard day's work? While he was talking, I was suddenly distracted by a gentle murmur above our heads. A little surprised not to have noticed a deciduous tree with sweeping branches and a majestic trunk in this glass box before. Occasionally, a few leaves in the brightest autumn colors fell down and danced gently in the air as if they were feathers. I followed their flight path in disbelief - I narrowed my eyes: Were they dusted with gold?

"Do you really need a rustic wooden bench or are you more the type for a Hollywood swing?" The customer advisor snapped me out of my thoughts, her cheeks now glowing red with excitement.

"Um, yes, both would be excellent," I stammered and turned around, something had touched my arm. The shoulder-high sunflowers behind me wrapped their green leaves protectively around me, as if they were smiling at me in a friendly manner. I couldn't pursue my astonishment because the store manager joined me at that very moment and complimented me on the lovely flower in my hair, something he hadn't seen on a lady for a long time. Flower? I groped and actually pulled a white jasmine flower out from behind my ear. Wow! And how it smelled...

The employees were now eagerly coming up with ideas for a cozy home. It became more and more colorful and homey. When I reached for my handbag on the floor, it had disappeared! The floor was completely covered in rustling fall leaves. I pushed the leaves aside and discovered the bag. It was nestled on soft moss.
The air was filled with a golden autumn atmosphere, bees were buzzing and a golden retriever was slumbering peacefully next to the customer advisor's desk.
A warm breeze tickled the tip of my nose. Did I smell the sweetness of vanilla?
Having almost forgotten about the application, the branch manager announced with a beaming face that I could look at the documents at my leisure. Nothing would stand in the way of the loan.

An enchanting farmhouse like a wooden jewelry box, a dreamlike garden with space for swings of all kinds, generous land for fruit trees, stables in case the desire for horses arose, etc...
I got palpitations with fear when I saw the sum... but false alarm. All this was included for the sum of a Tiny house.
I swayed with bliss, took one last bite of the Granny Smith and waded through the colorful foliage out the glass door...


If you thought that could only have been a dream, I have to admit that you're a bit shrewd. I still don't own those lands today. But "Burberry for Women | Burberry" transports me to the very veranda of this picturesque late summer. I want to stay there until fall and watch the sun play, collect freckles and eat apples. Sing songs and snuggle up in knitted blankets when evening falls. The intense yellow color of the liquid in the bottle fits in so well with this time of year, an Indian summer so to speak. The fragrance unfolds fruity and floral notes without becoming sour. The sweetness of the vanilla balances out the crisp apple well, together they make a good team.

It's already a bit long in the tooth and yes - you can smell it a little. But for me, it's a rich, juicy women's fragrance that not only goes well at the weekend, but also in the office. It also gives me a little vibe of English country gentry, old money style. The base has a woody finish, time to retreat to the pretty farmhouse in front of the fireplace. Musk certainly makes the fragrance cozy, it doesn't play a dominant role and goes largely unnoticed by me. Perhaps the longevity has been affected by a reformulation, I would have expected a little more than 6 hours.
Freshly sprayed on, it has a strong sillage.
I hardly ever come across this darling on the street anymore, which is a shame. We could fill dull mug days with a colorful late summer mood.

Sometimes there are days that I wish were over before they've even begun. On one such day, the alarm clock rang at the crack of dawn, which didn't bother me this time, because after a sleepless night it was almost a relief. The knot in my stomach always came when I was afraid of something. And yes, I was scared. My boss hinted the night before that he wanted to talk to me. He was known for his unpredictable character, putting his arm around people with a smile and unexpectedly plunging a knife between their shoulder blades. So you never knew.
I opted for an anthracite trouser suit with a high-necked cashmere sweater in dove gray underneath. Professional on the outside but with a soft, feminine core on the inside. Red lipstick. Which fragrance could support me today if I needed it or protect me if an attack was imminent? I opted for "Nº 4 (Eau de Parfum) | Jil Sander"

The amber-yellow liquid already reveals a little about the oriental content. The pyramid is so rich in fragrances that my nose can hardly grasp them. They are wonderfully blended, making it difficult for me to determine the transition between the top, heart and base notes.
Rose, peach and above all galbanum are clearly perceptible in the top note. Oakmoss and coriander should be the ingredients that are reminiscent of classic chypre. I cannot, however, identify civet and tuberose. Over the course of 8-9 hours, it becomes slightly warmer and sweeter. Spicy, green, oriental and floral. This is how I would roughly describe it at first.

The fragrance already has a vintage character. Just a few years ago, I couldn't do anything with it. I first had to grow into it and understand it, like with Chanel "N°5 (Parfum) | Chanel"
It doesn't fit in with sweet fruit bombs floating in sparkling champagne. Creamy caramels are not to be expected here either, nor are saffron or oud. In other words, nothing that excites the masses on Tiktok today. I would describe it as quite perfumey. It's not a subtle fabric softener or skinscent. Quite the opposite. The fragrance is so opulent right from the start, two sprays were enough.
With its black top hat and golden neck, the bottle has remained surprisingly timeless and elegant after all these years.

Before I left the house, I tiptoed into the bedroom and kissed my sleeping husband goodbye on the cheek. "Hmmm you smell good" he murmured. Smiling, I braced myself for what lay ahead.

On the way to the office, a colleague scurried towards me. She grimaced as she gave me a quick hug. She is the epitome of a "freshie". Sporty, casual, not too flowery or too sweet, simply always cleanly showered with minimalist sillage.
She found my fragrance far too strong and heavy, a headache candidate. She fanned herself, the signal for me to leave. She's overdoing it, I thought.

With every movement, a pleasant whiff of "Nº 4 (Eau de Parfum) | Jil Sander" came towards me. The sillage still felt intensely ambery even after five hours.
There was a knock and the boss stood in the open doorway. He didn't even enter, but stood there. My heart slipped into my pants. As you would expect, there was bad news, accompanied by a smug smile. Now was the time to stand up for myself. I stood up and took a few steps towards him. Arguing objectively, always remaining friendly. Just don't let on that I was shaking inside. He ended the conversation in his typical way. Without interrupting his torrent of words, he turned around and disappeared into his office with a loud slam of the door.

When I got home, I took off my blazer. A slightly warm, sweet hint of the base note - it must be vanilla - came towards me and seemed to comfort me in a loving way. It had direct access to my heart, which was still trembling. It felt as if a loving mother had put her arm around me and encouraged me "everything will be alright".

My husband was already waiting for me and, grinning, handed me the black pumps with spiked heels. "Put on something nice, you'll need them now." As a surprise, he invited me to the super chic restaurant that was celebrating its reopening.
So as not to waste any time, I slipped into the little black dress. Standing in front of my perfume collection again, I thought about which fragrance could accompany me. And once again my choice fell on "Nº 4 (Eau de Parfum) | Jil Sander". It somehow also seemed suitable for this occasion.

The restaurant was inviting and elegant, yet with a lively ambience. Indirect light. The elegantly dressed guests were treated to the best food and jazz music. I sat back with a glass of wine and enjoyed the lovely atmosphere. The stressful day had faded into the background. Now I felt grown up, feminine and at peace with myself.
My lover pulled me close as we walked, buried his nose in my neck and whispered, "If you weren't already my wife, I'd ask you again..."

I wondered how the fragrance manages to be simultaneously distancing, strong and self-possessed, yet professional at the same time. But then on the other hand so comforting and warming, and then again radiating sensual sex appeal. To be honest, I don't know. Whether it was because of Jil,
that the supervisor kept an unusually large distance? Maybe I'm imagining it. Or maybe I wish it was. At that moment, the fragrance was my safe haven, my gentle armor that protected me and calmed the storm of my agitated soul. At the same time, it is so extraordinarily attractive. But in a pleasant, clean way. Like a gentleman sheepishly taking off his hat to pay a lady a really nice compliment. Full of decency and respect.
For a first date, the age of the wearer and the intention behind it would be decisive for me.
Jil practises restraint and class. She knows who she is and knows her worth.

The superior no longer exists, but "Nº 4 (Eau de Parfum) | Jil Sander" will always have a place with me.