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08/23/2021
Chizza
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Chizza
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21
Sage and amber on leather ground
As a psychologist in the service of the police, or rather a special task force, I had to deal with many difficult characters, not always just one per person. But my last case, or rather the beginning of an epidemic, remained particularly in my memory, and that without the first perpetrator - could she even be called that? - had been particularly cruel in her deeds. No, she was merely the first of a multitude of identical cases, what has been popularly declared a perfume maniac. But there had to be more to it than that, because they were acting insanely. So I was instructed to visit the first infected person in an asylum. She had three lives on her conscience just to get an old bottle of perfume. Before that, I sprayed myself with my new favorite scent that I had acquired. Black No 1 by House of Matriarch.
The opening resembles sage festivities. These spicy notes, this oscillating with these bitter substances on a leathery ground seems green on the one hand, harsh and untamed on the other. Now sage can be reminiscent of coniferous forests and so these notes support perfectly, providing a strong counterpoint to the leather and scoring points precisely because of the diametric approach. I don't notice the seaweed, but I do notice a dull note that envelops the big picture. This seems perfecting on the one hand, but is very fragile because this very own note is special.
Thus enveloped, I entered the room in which Patient 0 was waiting for me. "What is your name?", I asked. "Gandix but friends call me Mahatma Gandix."
Obviously, the woman was suffering from a disorder. I had already done some research too. She and others called themselves perfumos. Spent lavishly on sample kits only to rate them 0.5/10. Bought flacons en masse and resold them almost new for half two months later. This dubious behaviour brought some here. All of them new offenders. She said no more with the reminder that she now had to place new orders and so I had to abruptly end the first questioning.
"Yoo-hoo!" an inmate interrupted my thoughts on the way back from Mahatma. "Floral scents are not at all mine, yet I test them exclusively," the bald man called out to me. Strange, this - yes: epidemic. Now I passed a patient whom everyone just called Dr. Leather. He wore a leather mask but not for reasons of protecting his fellows from him. He liked to sniff leather. Freak. Like crazy, he'd charge up to his bars, revolting, and reach for me. Well, he probably smelled the leather at my scent. The guards had to tranquilize him with stun guns for cattle.
Meanwhile, Black No 1 was pulling away. Faint, slightly warm and sweet, he now smelled. The amber seemed slightly woody and greenish, interesting. But very quiet, too quiet for my liking after maybe an hour or two. The leather was now merely a silhouette, serving more as a base for the amber. The melange was good, successful but very pale. This circumstance was quite surprising because I had actually expected concentrated animalic because of the ingredients but no trace of Hyraceum and amber. What I actually found so successful, it pushed the leather but completely in another direction, let me phasenweise remind of Destrier in resinous.
This perception of the fragrance, I noticed after wearing several times, fluctuated.
So I concluded my first day at the perfumo sanitarium full of these newfangled offenders. New people were being brought in daily, just now a person in a fox costume with huge ears and someone with a Swiss accent and a riding whip and he hand and appropriate outfit. Just into the taxi, I thought. There I took a seat, relieved.
"Where do you want to go?" the driver asked, turning around. Dressed as a faun, smelling woodsy with clumps of earth in his nose and pine cones in his tangled hair.
"I....will walk..."
The opening resembles sage festivities. These spicy notes, this oscillating with these bitter substances on a leathery ground seems green on the one hand, harsh and untamed on the other. Now sage can be reminiscent of coniferous forests and so these notes support perfectly, providing a strong counterpoint to the leather and scoring points precisely because of the diametric approach. I don't notice the seaweed, but I do notice a dull note that envelops the big picture. This seems perfecting on the one hand, but is very fragile because this very own note is special.
Thus enveloped, I entered the room in which Patient 0 was waiting for me. "What is your name?", I asked. "Gandix but friends call me Mahatma Gandix."
Obviously, the woman was suffering from a disorder. I had already done some research too. She and others called themselves perfumos. Spent lavishly on sample kits only to rate them 0.5/10. Bought flacons en masse and resold them almost new for half two months later. This dubious behaviour brought some here. All of them new offenders. She said no more with the reminder that she now had to place new orders and so I had to abruptly end the first questioning.
"Yoo-hoo!" an inmate interrupted my thoughts on the way back from Mahatma. "Floral scents are not at all mine, yet I test them exclusively," the bald man called out to me. Strange, this - yes: epidemic. Now I passed a patient whom everyone just called Dr. Leather. He wore a leather mask but not for reasons of protecting his fellows from him. He liked to sniff leather. Freak. Like crazy, he'd charge up to his bars, revolting, and reach for me. Well, he probably smelled the leather at my scent. The guards had to tranquilize him with stun guns for cattle.
Meanwhile, Black No 1 was pulling away. Faint, slightly warm and sweet, he now smelled. The amber seemed slightly woody and greenish, interesting. But very quiet, too quiet for my liking after maybe an hour or two. The leather was now merely a silhouette, serving more as a base for the amber. The melange was good, successful but very pale. This circumstance was quite surprising because I had actually expected concentrated animalic because of the ingredients but no trace of Hyraceum and amber. What I actually found so successful, it pushed the leather but completely in another direction, let me phasenweise remind of Destrier in resinous.
This perception of the fragrance, I noticed after wearing several times, fluctuated.
So I concluded my first day at the perfumo sanitarium full of these newfangled offenders. New people were being brought in daily, just now a person in a fox costume with huge ears and someone with a Swiss accent and a riding whip and he hand and appropriate outfit. Just into the taxi, I thought. There I took a seat, relieved.
"Where do you want to go?" the driver asked, turning around. Dressed as a faun, smelling woodsy with clumps of earth in his nose and pine cones in his tangled hair.
"I....will walk..."
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