Shiobhan

The young lady sits on the new wicker chair. Her hand, with the scratchy feather, flies over the handmade paper as if by magic. Her heart is beating fast, she has to hurry, her maid will be back soon. She presses another languorous kiss on the paper and hides the letter between the lace flounces of her dress. She looks out of the window. The lush green of the arbors edges around the windows. The afternoon sun shines through the foliage and plays with it. She has to hurry.

Her hat with the silk cloth, lightly on her shoulders as she walks with her maid through the park to the patisserie. At the Geissblattlaube she stops, bends to her shoes to secretly push the letter under the old flowerpot. Only she and her dearest know the place.


The evening the lights are on in the park. Couples, accompanied by their servants stroll along the paths and talk quietly with each other. A young man, walks quickly towards the honeysuckle arbor. He bends down and his heart beats wildly as he finds the small folded letter from his beloved. He takes it, his heart beating wildly, he smells the paper. There it is - her scent. As fresh as the early summer morning on the east side of the house. Where the orchard begins. Where the little lilies of the valley and violets stand. It reminds him of the vanilla scent of her hair that always blows in his face when he loosens her hair ribbon at the picnic. ..... tomorrow is Sunday .... He doesn't want to wait any longer. Tomorrow he will ask for her hand free.

.... And if they have not died, they sit under the geissblattlaube, hold hands and tell of their youth.

and i are 2 years apart. as children we often had the same clothes. sometimes she was a size smaller. she was a little fuller (baby fat) and darker i was rather skinny and blond. you could only distinguish her clothes from mine because they always looked somehow "suffered". disputes whose it is now my mother could see very well. (not that I was afraid to climb trees or other "dangerous" things) somehow mine were a little "prettier".

so I tried p.p. - ( cheaply got hold of vintage version). during an evening walk umwhete me the scent then again and again. i think "man, I know the...." da isser - mystere of rochas. so I tried the two the next day. and yes the are similar as sisters.
where p.p. is more "wild", original and.... i don't know what to say. mystere is more calm and - that's how i perceive it, with more depth.
so if you mourn mystere p.p. is an alternative. but the vintage version. the newer is not bad. but at most a cousin.

i had the old but too much after must de c. smelled.... also not so mine. but this one, the new one is really the top. i tried it 3 more times - it didn't change.
the smells of goat. i can not perceive the other scent components because the immediately settles in my olfactory bulb. maybe the goat rennet from the cheese factory was tipped into the cooking pot of this odeur. it does not go with us. i stand yes also something animal, like civet and biebergeil and leather ... but this just on bread.

the small one with 4ml ... no comparison with the old and this