04/01/2024
loewenherz
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loewenherz
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When the man's boss comes to dinner with his wife...
I recently discovered Renommée by Nerval at a flea market, which was completely unknown to me until then. But now I'm curious, so I tested it (on my skin!) - and what can I say? It's a really beautiful fragrance. It was surprisingly intact, apart from that sherry or old note that fragrances get at some point. But it didn't seem to have tipped. And so I traveled for a few wonderful moments into its chypsy past - exciting and nostalgically beautiful, although I never saw the real 60s.
I own a wonderful cookbook from that era, whose raison d'être was to be given to the young wife as a wedding present and then to impart the knowledge that was expected of young wives in the 60s. Essentially, of course, the book consists of recipes - it is a cookbook after all - my secret favorite is a party recipe for guests that consists of a giant pork aspic decorated with thick dabs of mayonnaise (from a piping bag) and slices of canned pineapple. I'll make that one day.
In addition to the recipes - there is also a chapter on how to economize without the family noticing - there is also advice for the young woman on how to behave in social situations. The nemesis of the housewife of those years was the dinner invitation from the husband's superior (and his wife) to the four walls of their home. Among other things, the book advises women to dress modestly (so as not to outshine the boss's wife) and only speak when directly addressed.
Renommée smells of this woman, who hastily takes off her apron while the boss's car rolls onto the driveway. Who then helps his wife out of her Persian coat and secretly wonders if she will ever own one. She proudly carries the pork aspic decorated with mayonnaise and tinned pineapple on the Hutschenreuther platter into the dining room, where the husband, his boss and his wife are smoking and drinking brandy. And all these pictures smell good. Because Renommée is a fragrance that has good things to say.
It smells terribly old-fashioned, of course. It smells sensual, but refined - a fragrance for a lady from the bourgeoisie - and no Nitribitt. It has the solidity of a women's magazine under the hood at the hairdresser's - a gentle soapiness and ripe, green florality that is old-fashioned, but still beautiful - and which is a privilege to smell in the present - even if women today wear other perfumes, no longer invite their husband's boss to their home - and also speak when they themselves have something to say. This does not detract from the fragrance experience.
Conclusion: I almost regret leaving it there and not even enquiring about the price. It should have cost almost nothing. But I try to refrain from 'wanting it' for the sake of wanting it - especially when it comes to a women's fragrance from the 60s that I would never wear and that I couldn't think of anything suitable to give away. Finding it there and having it in my nose was wonderful all the same. And when I make the pork aspic with the tinned pineapple and mayonnaise dabs one day, I'll think of him.
I own a wonderful cookbook from that era, whose raison d'être was to be given to the young wife as a wedding present and then to impart the knowledge that was expected of young wives in the 60s. Essentially, of course, the book consists of recipes - it is a cookbook after all - my secret favorite is a party recipe for guests that consists of a giant pork aspic decorated with thick dabs of mayonnaise (from a piping bag) and slices of canned pineapple. I'll make that one day.
In addition to the recipes - there is also a chapter on how to economize without the family noticing - there is also advice for the young woman on how to behave in social situations. The nemesis of the housewife of those years was the dinner invitation from the husband's superior (and his wife) to the four walls of their home. Among other things, the book advises women to dress modestly (so as not to outshine the boss's wife) and only speak when directly addressed.
Renommée smells of this woman, who hastily takes off her apron while the boss's car rolls onto the driveway. Who then helps his wife out of her Persian coat and secretly wonders if she will ever own one. She proudly carries the pork aspic decorated with mayonnaise and tinned pineapple on the Hutschenreuther platter into the dining room, where the husband, his boss and his wife are smoking and drinking brandy. And all these pictures smell good. Because Renommée is a fragrance that has good things to say.
It smells terribly old-fashioned, of course. It smells sensual, but refined - a fragrance for a lady from the bourgeoisie - and no Nitribitt. It has the solidity of a women's magazine under the hood at the hairdresser's - a gentle soapiness and ripe, green florality that is old-fashioned, but still beautiful - and which is a privilege to smell in the present - even if women today wear other perfumes, no longer invite their husband's boss to their home - and also speak when they themselves have something to say. This does not detract from the fragrance experience.
Conclusion: I almost regret leaving it there and not even enquiring about the price. It should have cost almost nothing. But I try to refrain from 'wanting it' for the sake of wanting it - especially when it comes to a women's fragrance from the 60s that I would never wear and that I couldn't think of anything suitable to give away. Finding it there and having it in my nose was wonderful all the same. And when I make the pork aspic with the tinned pineapple and mayonnaise dabs one day, I'll think of him.
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