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I cautiously sneak through an upscale flower shop, meticulously arranged with the utmost care, and I am captivated by the graceful splendor of the colorful blooms and their irresistible scents. The euphoric, lavish beauty, which for me captures the entire fairy-tale holiness of nature, enchants and intoxicates me. I would love to stay here forever! At some point, as time has become insignificant, a saleswoman approaches me and asks about my wishes. Reverently, I select some of the most beautiful and fragrant flowers from the fantastic array and have a bouquet tied with a gold ribbon. I must smell the wonderful bouquet all day long.

First, I perceive an exciting, luscious scent of alcohol that respectfully and softly precedes the colorful mixture of the blooming flora. Then, virtuoso waxy notes of various light flowers emerge, opulently blending with a hint of rose. The floral splendor becomes warmer and more refined; fruity nuances of peach and berries develop. Finally, a floral powdery layer gently settles over everything. This prepares the sensual, warm base. Gradually, bright woods and soft floral honey evolve, along with a note of snow-white vanilla dust, which gracefully holds everything together.

I buy an expensive, soothing balm made from the finest natural raw materials that come to Venice via trade routes. It treats any form of discomfort and has an extremely sensual scent.

The erotic heaviness must be attributed to a refined rose extract combined with animal secretions. The floral animality presents itself here as soft and velvety yet cool. The oud forms a balsamic-medical triad with oily resins and moist patchouli, which harmonizes wonderfully with the heart note. A beautiful note of cedarwood gradually joins in.

The combination of soft, bodily notes and almost alcoholically sterile balsamic notes initially feels somewhat strange. However, as a successful balance is achieved here, everything comes together to form an interesting and quite beautiful fragrance composition.

I visit a small Venetian chocolate factory. There, I am guided around with expert advice and initiated into the thoroughly artisanal mystery of dark Aztec gold. I am particularly fascinated by the emerging scents.

First, small cocoa beans are roasted in a copper bowl, releasing sweet and subtly woody smoky notes. During the grinding process, first coarsely through a bicycle apparatus and then finely using a hand crank, powdery, dusty vanilla facets rise to my nose, quickly developing into the primary note. With the refinement of the cocoa butter in a press, a honey-like, balsamic oil is produced, which is also extremely sweet. And then comes the surprise! Real camel milk is added to the mixture. Immediately, I perceive a warm, animalistic scent that gently and softly integrates, reminding me of wax. Later, however, it becomes more intense and somewhat strict, like burnt milk sugar, on which a skin forms.

The finished chocolate bar, wrapped in gold foil with natural imperfections, has a vanilla-creamy, very sweet scent. And this sweetness seems to me personally not necessarily suitable. Nevertheless, it was a lovely experience!

A small Oriental spice and esoteric shop, winding and quite inconspicuous in the Venetian hustle and bustle. I look around and feel overwhelmed by the many intense scents. Spices and fruits are laid out, with sweets draped among them. Incense and incense sticks, as well as dried candles, are scattered everywhere. From the charming, completely un-stereotypical, distant saleswoman, I have a colorful bag put together. She follows me with the crinkling paper over the heavily carpeted wooden floor, while I select the little treasures.

First, a bit of the sweet, woody licorice that smells almost ethereal and peppery. Then come small, cinnamon-sugared fruits: apples, dates, and grapes. I also have a smoke bowl made of cocoa wood and thin incense sticks added, which emit a clean, pure, balsamic scent of cold frankincense. Finally, small natural rubber pieces for chewing find their way into the bag.

As I smell the mixture again while leaving, I am somewhat disappointed by the overpowering, sweet variety of scents, which seems relatively unpleasant and cloying to me. However, the individual items are of excellent quality.

The small, traditional establishment greets me with a spice-heavy, warm scent. The pale light of the morning sun filters through the milky windows. A silent spring haze envelops Venice. At one of the bright oak tables sits an older Italian gentleman; dressed in a rustic manner with a thick, dark mustache. He waves me over.
"I saw you yesterday at the stud farm outside the city." - "Yes, that's true. I was there for a visit." We engage in lively conversation. Do I own a horse? No, but my girlfriend does. Can he inspire me with a special gift? Yes, I ask what it would be. "I was just thinking of my late wife's sports saddle. The most beautiful one you've ever seen. I find you very likable and I want it to go to good hands."

At noon, I arrive at his small country house and take a seat in the living room. On the table lies, on an ornate silk cloth, the incredibly beautiful saddle. Light suede and walnut-colored smooth leather have been used in contrast and adorned with delicate, floral-embossed silver studs. Small, reflective beads create atmospheric snake patterns.
What enchants me the most, however, is the wonderful, deep scent in that room. The saddle exudes the unique, primal aroma of rough leather. Strict yet soft-animalic. From the adjoining kitchen wafts spicy saffron steam, which immediately numbs any severity and adds a colorful undertone. The alcoholic-fruity sharpness that rises to my nose from the brandy glass in front of me gently joins in. The leather scent transforms into dark, bitter notes of dark chocolate and dry patchouli.
With full gratitude, I take the saddle with me late in the evening and leave my new friend's house.