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11/13/2020
Cravache
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Cravache
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Adventure, freedom, bomber pilots and eau sauvage
Badertscher Jürg (in Switzerland the surname is prefixed - Klaus Kinski is called Kinski Klaus) is standing at the window. He is satisfied with himself. CFO of a medium-sized company, the figures are good. From his spacious office (top floor, art prints of pictures by Miró Joan and a picture by Tell Wilhelm on the walls), Badertscher Jürg can overlook the runways and hangars of the nearby airport. And look at his reflection in the tinted glass. White shirt by Dior Christian, dark blue Slim Fit suit by Ford Tom. Badertscher Jürg is also satisfied with this. Even if the suit doesn't fit as tight as it does with Kern Christian. But doughy like Trump Donald, he is not, Badertscher Jürg.
When Badertscher Jürg wanders through the lonely corridor of the top floor (those in charge with a workplace on lower floors have no access to the top floor), he leaves a fine scent trail. Eau Sauvage by Dior Christian, which his wife, Badertscher's grief Vreni, puts next to his white shirt every morning. Badertscher Jürg is satisfied. With his numbers, with his suit in the mirror, with Badertscher grief Vreni. And of course with his scent of Dior Christian. But on this radiantly beautiful Friday in November, Badertscher Jürg stays a little longer at the window. His gaze does not wander over the sugared peaks of the foothills of the Alps, he looks out at the nearby airfield.
Even though Badertscher Jürg hasn't spoken to people who don't hold a management rank for a long time, he feels like a friend of the Blue Collar worker - at least if he knew any. Sometimes he regrets not meeting them at his golf club on Lake Zurich or during his skiing holiday in St. Moritz. The chypre aura of his Dior Christian fragrance makes Badertscher Jürg melancholy today. To the astonishment of his assistant Kneubühler Livia, Badertscher Jürg leaves his office shortly afterwards without a word (even the daily inspection of his assistant's butt has been omitted today to her irritation) and gets into his limousine.
In a luxury department store on Zurich's Bahnhofstrasse, he is looking for distraction when he is torn from his thoughts by a sonorous voice with a French accent. The young perfume saleswoman, whose name tag reads Martineau Sophie, asks him, "You want to test a perfume," and beams at Badertscher Jürg. After a brief glance, Badertscher Jürg decides to take up the offer to test the perfume. "Isch riesche Eau Sauvage. This is the ultimate perfume de mon père! "I show you other perfumes from the Eau Sauvage perfume universe!" Badertscher Jürg is satisfied. With the distraction, with the sight of the distraction, with himself, and the test proposal. And so Martineau Sophie conjures up three bottles on the counter next to the cash register: Aéroplane by Detaille, Aigues Vives (perfume) by Galimard and Eau d' Aviateur by Flou Atelier.
Badertscher Jürg immediately recognises a relationship between all three fragrances and his Eau Sauvage. Aéroplane reminds him of his 1994 vintage bottle of Eau Sauvage: deeper, spicier, more herbaceous than his current Eau Sauvage - and more petrol-filled. More precisely: aviation gasoline. Badertscher Jürg shakes his head. Aviation gasoline? He can't score points with this at Badertscher-Kummer Vreni, vice-chairman of the Greens in his community. "The whole flying Majorca party people destroy the environment. Flying has to become more expensive again", Badertscher Jürg remembers the grunting of his wife in the First Class Lounge, when he flew with her last year in the Christmas season to New York for shopping.
Next he turns to Aigues Vives (perfume). His melancholy is gone. Which is due to the charm of Demoiselle Martineau on the one hand, but also to the scent on the other. "It's Eau Sauvage with the sun of southern France. Three-day beard. "And Corsican joie de vivre That's the real Eau Sauvage perfume, not the one Dior Christian sells under that name", Badertscher Jürg thinks to himself and remembers the first holiday in Avignon with Badertscher-Kummer Vreni, which was then called Kummer Vreni - and which was married by Badertscher Jürg 7 months later for primarily career reasons. "Badertscher, you can't wear that in the office! This is a fragrance for carefree vice presidents or dream-walking humanists." And so, Badertscher Jürg also discards Aigues Vives, although he has a kind of nostalgia for it.
After a further test look, Badertscher Jürg turns to the last test candidate. Eau d'Aviateur. Badertscher Jürg is also related to Eau Sauvage, although Eau d'Aviateur reminds him a bit more of Aéroplane.
In the top note Badertscher Jürg makes his Eau Sauvage. Garnished with a touch of orange and enlivened by Monsieur Balmain's graceful, sun-drenched lemon (unreformulated version from 1990 by Becker Calice). Petitgrain projects the citric scent image into a kaleidoscope, giving Eau d'Aviateur a texture of soft citric clouds in southern French yellow and green tones.
The flowery heart of Eau d'Aviateur is herbaceous and green in colour, slightly less musty than Aéroplane. The heart is framed in soft light wood, natural, soft, carrying in decency.
Badertscher Jürg likes what he smells: his Eau Sauvage, a petroleum-free version of Aéroplane and the citrusy joie de vivre of Aigues Vives, though not as exuberant. Badertscher Jürg pulls out his company credit card and allows himself to afford the fragrance.
Badertscher Jürg is back in his office. Shortly before his lunch at the golf club, he makes out the further scent of Eau d'Aviateur. He misses a little the oakmoss note of Eau Sauvage, which in its current formulation is once again clearly richer, crisper and darker green. The green, slightly smoky leaf note (probably maté) in Eau d'Aviateur is not a full-fledged substitute.
Badertscher Jürg stops at the window for a while and watches the aircraft mechanics at the nearby airfield. Suddenly he thinks he smells the grey-blue overalls of the mechanics. Overalls that are human, a touch of fresh metallic sweat, some oil on the hands. A smell of adventure, freedom, and the satisfaction of a job well done. Cibet and white musk. Cibet, like a tiger walking across a lonely plain under a milky sky in wet and cold snow. Musk, which stands like soft cloud castles in the sky over the South Seas
When Badertscher Jürg arrives home in the evening, he is expected by Badertscher's grief Vreni. "You smell familiar. Just like back in Avignon", Badertscher-Kummer Vreni beams at her Badertscher Jürg.
And when Badertscher Jürg sometimes stands at the window of his office, looks into the clouds, wearing eau d'aviateur, he imagines himself in the leather lambskin jacket of the adventurous pilots of the 1930s, somewhere over the Atlantic, flying through cloud castles, without a specific destination.
It's surprising that eau d'Aviateur is not more common on Parfumo. It would actually be a perfumo scent. Eau Sauvage universe, niche, a touch of civet, moderately priced - and a fantastic bottle. As heavy as a full steel petrol can, with great attention to detail, it's beautifully crafted. If Eau Sauvage had this civet note or Eau d'Aviateur had the oakmoss note of Eau Sauvage, then this would be my perfect fragrance.
When Badertscher Jürg wanders through the lonely corridor of the top floor (those in charge with a workplace on lower floors have no access to the top floor), he leaves a fine scent trail. Eau Sauvage by Dior Christian, which his wife, Badertscher's grief Vreni, puts next to his white shirt every morning. Badertscher Jürg is satisfied. With his numbers, with his suit in the mirror, with Badertscher grief Vreni. And of course with his scent of Dior Christian. But on this radiantly beautiful Friday in November, Badertscher Jürg stays a little longer at the window. His gaze does not wander over the sugared peaks of the foothills of the Alps, he looks out at the nearby airfield.
Even though Badertscher Jürg hasn't spoken to people who don't hold a management rank for a long time, he feels like a friend of the Blue Collar worker - at least if he knew any. Sometimes he regrets not meeting them at his golf club on Lake Zurich or during his skiing holiday in St. Moritz. The chypre aura of his Dior Christian fragrance makes Badertscher Jürg melancholy today. To the astonishment of his assistant Kneubühler Livia, Badertscher Jürg leaves his office shortly afterwards without a word (even the daily inspection of his assistant's butt has been omitted today to her irritation) and gets into his limousine.
In a luxury department store on Zurich's Bahnhofstrasse, he is looking for distraction when he is torn from his thoughts by a sonorous voice with a French accent. The young perfume saleswoman, whose name tag reads Martineau Sophie, asks him, "You want to test a perfume," and beams at Badertscher Jürg. After a brief glance, Badertscher Jürg decides to take up the offer to test the perfume. "Isch riesche Eau Sauvage. This is the ultimate perfume de mon père! "I show you other perfumes from the Eau Sauvage perfume universe!" Badertscher Jürg is satisfied. With the distraction, with the sight of the distraction, with himself, and the test proposal. And so Martineau Sophie conjures up three bottles on the counter next to the cash register: Aéroplane by Detaille, Aigues Vives (perfume) by Galimard and Eau d' Aviateur by Flou Atelier.
Badertscher Jürg immediately recognises a relationship between all three fragrances and his Eau Sauvage. Aéroplane reminds him of his 1994 vintage bottle of Eau Sauvage: deeper, spicier, more herbaceous than his current Eau Sauvage - and more petrol-filled. More precisely: aviation gasoline. Badertscher Jürg shakes his head. Aviation gasoline? He can't score points with this at Badertscher-Kummer Vreni, vice-chairman of the Greens in his community. "The whole flying Majorca party people destroy the environment. Flying has to become more expensive again", Badertscher Jürg remembers the grunting of his wife in the First Class Lounge, when he flew with her last year in the Christmas season to New York for shopping.
Next he turns to Aigues Vives (perfume). His melancholy is gone. Which is due to the charm of Demoiselle Martineau on the one hand, but also to the scent on the other. "It's Eau Sauvage with the sun of southern France. Three-day beard. "And Corsican joie de vivre That's the real Eau Sauvage perfume, not the one Dior Christian sells under that name", Badertscher Jürg thinks to himself and remembers the first holiday in Avignon with Badertscher-Kummer Vreni, which was then called Kummer Vreni - and which was married by Badertscher Jürg 7 months later for primarily career reasons. "Badertscher, you can't wear that in the office! This is a fragrance for carefree vice presidents or dream-walking humanists." And so, Badertscher Jürg also discards Aigues Vives, although he has a kind of nostalgia for it.
After a further test look, Badertscher Jürg turns to the last test candidate. Eau d'Aviateur. Badertscher Jürg is also related to Eau Sauvage, although Eau d'Aviateur reminds him a bit more of Aéroplane.
In the top note Badertscher Jürg makes his Eau Sauvage. Garnished with a touch of orange and enlivened by Monsieur Balmain's graceful, sun-drenched lemon (unreformulated version from 1990 by Becker Calice). Petitgrain projects the citric scent image into a kaleidoscope, giving Eau d'Aviateur a texture of soft citric clouds in southern French yellow and green tones.
The flowery heart of Eau d'Aviateur is herbaceous and green in colour, slightly less musty than Aéroplane. The heart is framed in soft light wood, natural, soft, carrying in decency.
Badertscher Jürg likes what he smells: his Eau Sauvage, a petroleum-free version of Aéroplane and the citrusy joie de vivre of Aigues Vives, though not as exuberant. Badertscher Jürg pulls out his company credit card and allows himself to afford the fragrance.
Badertscher Jürg is back in his office. Shortly before his lunch at the golf club, he makes out the further scent of Eau d'Aviateur. He misses a little the oakmoss note of Eau Sauvage, which in its current formulation is once again clearly richer, crisper and darker green. The green, slightly smoky leaf note (probably maté) in Eau d'Aviateur is not a full-fledged substitute.
Badertscher Jürg stops at the window for a while and watches the aircraft mechanics at the nearby airfield. Suddenly he thinks he smells the grey-blue overalls of the mechanics. Overalls that are human, a touch of fresh metallic sweat, some oil on the hands. A smell of adventure, freedom, and the satisfaction of a job well done. Cibet and white musk. Cibet, like a tiger walking across a lonely plain under a milky sky in wet and cold snow. Musk, which stands like soft cloud castles in the sky over the South Seas
When Badertscher Jürg arrives home in the evening, he is expected by Badertscher's grief Vreni. "You smell familiar. Just like back in Avignon", Badertscher-Kummer Vreni beams at her Badertscher Jürg.
And when Badertscher Jürg sometimes stands at the window of his office, looks into the clouds, wearing eau d'aviateur, he imagines himself in the leather lambskin jacket of the adventurous pilots of the 1930s, somewhere over the Atlantic, flying through cloud castles, without a specific destination.
It's surprising that eau d'Aviateur is not more common on Parfumo. It would actually be a perfumo scent. Eau Sauvage universe, niche, a touch of civet, moderately priced - and a fantastic bottle. As heavy as a full steel petrol can, with great attention to detail, it's beautifully crafted. If Eau Sauvage had this civet note or Eau d'Aviateur had the oakmoss note of Eau Sauvage, then this would be my perfect fragrance.
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