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Notes03/17/2021
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8
A Whiter Shade Of Pale
Everyone knows the above song; the venerable, not to say dusty Rolling Stone magazine lists it as number 57 among 500 GOATs (the 56 before that are pretty much nonsense). Few may know that the harmonic sequence (complete with bass line) is that of Johann Sebastian Bach's World Heritage-suspect Suite No. 3 in D Major. With fugue (i.e. in tickling out various fugues) one can boast: the rough-cascade-like VerHAMMONDORGELung sprang from 'bächern'. In contrast to this, the mysterious song lyrics actually emanated from a second mastermind and, after 5 'puzzling', brain-tearing decades, may gradually enjoy a decryption. In short: A (sea-)man haunted by a ghostly female figure, such a one as she as a burdensome curse turns proud ocean cruisers into soul sellers. Or is that the excuse to get her around!? Anyway, the bass player always gets the chicks anyway.
Didn't every one of us bass vocalists, er ... men (!) once in his becoming phase or sometime (okay, let's subtract 17% because of me) a tall, extremely skinny, preferably blond - but not necessarily blond -, pale, no, pale girl desired, loved it!? DÉCLARATION by Cartier is eerily similar! The bas-relief flacon, which one stares at like an exhibition object, which it is almost forbidden to touch. At the neck alone the refined closure of guillotinesque cut ...! Nothing so far that has ever touched me in such uniqueness, or I, the clasp to be unlocked, clip-clap, shackle off. Needless to say, the bottle in question has the exact proportions of that snow-bright and discreet, almost boyish, female torso. As 1:1 of the encounter with the misty images of faded youth ent...hockt - 'entockt': the only angängige term for this.
And also the fragrance, the epochal, in the best sense of the word baroque, is any reminder of this! 101 perfumes and thousands and thousands of spray sniffs behind, I think I know that vetiver has never been more finely spun into an overall masculine composition (even the otherwise all-wealthy first sudsmith on the block, Guerlain, can't do it). We could still rub the backs of our swollen olfactory organs to the nasal septum bend so many times on different fragrant wrists or truffle-sniffing on the narrowest perfumery radius, it could bring 5, 6 hours or centuries, the dominant in the Veti cosmos remains that olfactory Gesamtkunstwerk, which is so much like the embodiment of an ideal.
If one could say it in words, instead of trying this in my case only rudimentary, there would probably be no reason to create such fragrances, which snatch dear people, happened, and events, all too human, from the dark oblivion bright ("Tug not so!"). Like a zipped bedsheet with knots in it.
Again, aren't the majority of us Y-chromosomes all haunted by an ethereal half-woman who does her haunting mischief in our upper chamber, snatching us away from industrious existence from time to time? Had she not at first been to us only a peculiar titillation? For our interest seemed seminaristic and quite semi in general. One would have to get rid of her after six full weeks and did not yet know how. Perhaps, or certainly not the most glorious expression among all Caravaggio's femininity (or was it Michelangelo, Rubens?) the erratic scales tilted in her favor notwithstanding. There would be revelry in matters of love until towards morning. That was after the racket and the sluggish entertainment, the dance round a jumble of hops such as no bandmaster or bouncer on duty would have tolerated. With raised finger conducting the pouring in for the last time, the eternally ceremonious drinking in, then under singing of the main chorus separating with the minion.
She is never quite cured, she is only always thirsty, she betrays herself nasally by her coughing. It is noticeably spoken from the hearts of the bleached co-conspirators. The declarationist sentiment grows stronger, not weaker! A touch too footsy (to pant inconspicuously through the ingredients now), too genuflecting. You lay yourself a solitaire, the marked cards murmur: Nevermore today! You can cede or dither, "Would you have another (karda) mom?" she does instantly. Gently cradled by mountain-amoor swells, you wave upraised arms (and hands like platters reaching for juiced orange halves) slightly drunk through the oak-moss-swollen, snowy room air. It's half peak conquest, half local anesthesia. When you ask "What for?" the birchwood blazes to an end - and her face TAKES ON A LIGHTER BLUE (opal white?). Paler by just that shade, she literally dissolves before you. Yet eternized, timelessly immortalized like Johann Sebastian's Requiem, like Cartier's Déclaration ... like any most complete expression of an existence.
Yes, such an inescapable scent attractant, with scent pyramid unchangeable even by modern synthesizing, is a piece of done life! Moreover, a good piece of staying! Scent-cartridge-armed one will put still nowadays many a wheel-beating 'bugbear' before the same solemn declaration.
In the local hit parade (without initial S), Déclaration is estimated to rank between 570th and 730th (at least 666 better-placed fragrances seem to me to be quite a nonsense), and you don't need to learn how to smell it. It works by itself! According to my intemperate nose, there are no serious doubles, i.e. dupes of these, on the market. At most in-house flankers (Eau de Toilette and Parfum really don't take each other much). BUY!, recommend the Börsianer.
Besides (googled) titles A Whiter Shade Of Pale furthermore a well-smelling, robust noble rose. It is suitable for single position and group planting ...
Finally the first Rezi is enveloped (enveloped?) and licked, one should have condensed the Erschriebene freely to 3 words: an everlasting fragrance. Done. And niemand's imagination plays with it!? For if embellishing poetry is the nourishment, the abrégé is the undersaturation.
Didn't every one of us bass vocalists, er ... men (!) once in his becoming phase or sometime (okay, let's subtract 17% because of me) a tall, extremely skinny, preferably blond - but not necessarily blond -, pale, no, pale girl desired, loved it!? DÉCLARATION by Cartier is eerily similar! The bas-relief flacon, which one stares at like an exhibition object, which it is almost forbidden to touch. At the neck alone the refined closure of guillotinesque cut ...! Nothing so far that has ever touched me in such uniqueness, or I, the clasp to be unlocked, clip-clap, shackle off. Needless to say, the bottle in question has the exact proportions of that snow-bright and discreet, almost boyish, female torso. As 1:1 of the encounter with the misty images of faded youth ent...hockt - 'entockt': the only angängige term for this.
And also the fragrance, the epochal, in the best sense of the word baroque, is any reminder of this! 101 perfumes and thousands and thousands of spray sniffs behind, I think I know that vetiver has never been more finely spun into an overall masculine composition (even the otherwise all-wealthy first sudsmith on the block, Guerlain, can't do it). We could still rub the backs of our swollen olfactory organs to the nasal septum bend so many times on different fragrant wrists or truffle-sniffing on the narrowest perfumery radius, it could bring 5, 6 hours or centuries, the dominant in the Veti cosmos remains that olfactory Gesamtkunstwerk, which is so much like the embodiment of an ideal.
If one could say it in words, instead of trying this in my case only rudimentary, there would probably be no reason to create such fragrances, which snatch dear people, happened, and events, all too human, from the dark oblivion bright ("Tug not so!"). Like a zipped bedsheet with knots in it.
Again, aren't the majority of us Y-chromosomes all haunted by an ethereal half-woman who does her haunting mischief in our upper chamber, snatching us away from industrious existence from time to time? Had she not at first been to us only a peculiar titillation? For our interest seemed seminaristic and quite semi in general. One would have to get rid of her after six full weeks and did not yet know how. Perhaps, or certainly not the most glorious expression among all Caravaggio's femininity (or was it Michelangelo, Rubens?) the erratic scales tilted in her favor notwithstanding. There would be revelry in matters of love until towards morning. That was after the racket and the sluggish entertainment, the dance round a jumble of hops such as no bandmaster or bouncer on duty would have tolerated. With raised finger conducting the pouring in for the last time, the eternally ceremonious drinking in, then under singing of the main chorus separating with the minion.
She is never quite cured, she is only always thirsty, she betrays herself nasally by her coughing. It is noticeably spoken from the hearts of the bleached co-conspirators. The declarationist sentiment grows stronger, not weaker! A touch too footsy (to pant inconspicuously through the ingredients now), too genuflecting. You lay yourself a solitaire, the marked cards murmur: Nevermore today! You can cede or dither, "Would you have another (karda) mom?" she does instantly. Gently cradled by mountain-amoor swells, you wave upraised arms (and hands like platters reaching for juiced orange halves) slightly drunk through the oak-moss-swollen, snowy room air. It's half peak conquest, half local anesthesia. When you ask "What for?" the birchwood blazes to an end - and her face TAKES ON A LIGHTER BLUE (opal white?). Paler by just that shade, she literally dissolves before you. Yet eternized, timelessly immortalized like Johann Sebastian's Requiem, like Cartier's Déclaration ... like any most complete expression of an existence.
Yes, such an inescapable scent attractant, with scent pyramid unchangeable even by modern synthesizing, is a piece of done life! Moreover, a good piece of staying! Scent-cartridge-armed one will put still nowadays many a wheel-beating 'bugbear' before the same solemn declaration.
In the local hit parade (without initial S), Déclaration is estimated to rank between 570th and 730th (at least 666 better-placed fragrances seem to me to be quite a nonsense), and you don't need to learn how to smell it. It works by itself! According to my intemperate nose, there are no serious doubles, i.e. dupes of these, on the market. At most in-house flankers (Eau de Toilette and Parfum really don't take each other much). BUY!, recommend the Börsianer.
Besides (googled) titles A Whiter Shade Of Pale furthermore a well-smelling, robust noble rose. It is suitable for single position and group planting ...
Finally the first Rezi is enveloped (enveloped?) and licked, one should have condensed the Erschriebene freely to 3 words: an everlasting fragrance. Done. And niemand's imagination plays with it!? For if embellishing poetry is the nourishment, the abrégé is the undersaturation.
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