1. Part (Part 2 under the EdP)
On her fortune cookie, which she had received after eating at the
only Asian on the island, it said one day:
"You can be only one person to the world, but to one
Person mean the whole world".
The note ended up in the wastebasket outside Hansen's Bakery.
She was, after all, a pragmatic person. Since her
Divorce a few years ago, she had not once
once about a new relationship. She had on this island in the North Sea was glad that she had inherited the small house with the blue wood
balcony had inherited. It was quite enough for her and her
Son Jan, who went to the fourth grade of the only school
on the island. Besides, it was steadily going up in value,
for it was not far from the beach in a quiet,
little lane. Things were not going well with Jan at school,
every few weeks she had to have a talk with the
Class teacher because he was supposedly neither fitting into the community
community nor showed any serious interest in
Class. She tried - often successfully - to alleviate the
Worries she had about him. For
for her work she needed a clear head.
Well, that was at least half true. She was a freelance journalist freelance journalist for various women's magazines and
got by quite well. Even though the job.. more and more like routine. She knew exactly what what the editors wanted and delivered it. If her
everything seemed too much like a pattern, she consoled
she consoled herself with the thought of her first novel which she had recently begun And above all - she just went for an hour or two
walk on the beach.
So she did today, on this slightly overcast but
The wind blew out into the sea from the land.
She walked barefoot right on the edge where the waves
after breaking in the sand, arched into smooth,
light brown shining, very ephemeral lakes
transformed, at their end leaving even more ephemeral foam
leaving behind. Gull cries filled the air,
the crashing of the waves sounded like an endless melody.. that was soft and rough at the same time. The cold North Sea water
played with her feet, the fine brown sand seemed to hold her
as the waves receded, as if
as if to give her more traction.
She had often toyed with the idea of
selling the house at the moment she could get a good price for it.
And if they moved to Hamburg, everything would be
easier, faster, more direct. And certainly better for
Jan, because in the city there were other standards for a boy in his situation for a boy in his situation. She wouldn't need a real estate agent she would not need, just a sign in the garden -
that had also been enough at Buettner's a few houses
up the marsh walk up, after not even 2 weeks was a buyer
Suddenly she felt something hard and smooth on her foot.
She lowered her gaze from the horizon down into the sand
and saw a green glass bottle, clean and without a label.
She picked it up, something rattling inside. It was
a small glass tube that looked most like a perfume
sample. She decided to take the bottle with her.. and examine it more closely at home.
It was indeed a small perfume sample, crystal clear and
She was not a particular perfume lover,
but every now and then she would treat herself to a spray of one
of the perfumes that had been given to her by various
people From various people - three or four flacons
were there, which looked quite good
on the shelf in front of the mirror in the bathroom did quite well.
She would give this found fragrance a try, why not?
What was going to happen?
She carefully put two sprays on her wrist.
The first thing she perceived was a friendly, serious,
light green note that seemed freshened
by a little lemon seemed. Immediately, the green became richer, deeper and denser,
and got supplemented by a slightly spicy touch
an even more tart, almost weather-beaten character.
It reminded her of someone whom one finds sympathetic,
but whom one would not, after all, approach without further ado.
Friendly, but firm, almost unwavering. Yes, this
Friendliness was now more evident, warm-soft, somewhat
powdery, perhaps slightly floral smelled now.
Like a discreet piece of jewelry, classy but not loud.
How beautiful such a perfume can be, she thought.
The next day, she repeated her test. And was
directly thrilled, the opening came to her now already like
a good old acquaintance. That tart, naturally-green
Self-confidence... The scent reminded her of someone,
but she could not grasp it, it was neither her mother
nor a friend. A teacher? No, they had never
smelled of anything, at most of sweat and
Austerity. That was here also to a certain Quentchen -
but it was a wonderful, helpful.. that you could confide in, if you felt like it if you felt like it.
She made a note of these fanciful flowers which the fragrance in her
as she usually did with associations.. and phrases that came to her. Who knows? maybe that would be sometime usable for a
Article. Or your novel.
On the third day, she enjoyed the scent even more.
Can you fall in love with a perfume, she noted to herself.
What struck her even more now was the soft-powdery,
even something noble-woody, which radiated so much warmth,
still there appeared green-herb shimmering little clouds
with that certain seriousness, but she sensed behind them
a benevolent force that knew what it wanted.
Conveying a sense of feasibility, she noted,
of the practicability of even more unusual paths.
Sure, it smelled like flowers, too, but they weren't,
that a man gave you. They were the kind you gave maybe to a man, maybe to a woman.. a woman, to wrap her around your finger.
More and more came to her mind about this fragrance.
Still, not everything could be put into exact words.
This bewildering basket of flowers and herbs, which reminded her
reminded her of a weekly market, but at the same time
a certain bitterness, which yet had nothing of bitterness
had, because it was embedded in more comforting aspects.
A certain unpredictability, even renitence was there,
that particularly fascinated her.
And then she realized how little there was left
in the little tube.
A hot horror came over her.
She didn't know the name of the perfume or anything else anything.
What to do?
By all means, pick up the rest. And maybe ask someone
Mrs. Scherringer's little shop came to mind, just a
a few streets away. There was almost everything, not only food
but also some drugstore products like shaving cream and
even a few fragrances.
Not twenty minutes later, she was already standing in the store
and held out her arm for Mrs. Scherringer to sniff.
"So 100% I can't say..." began Ms.
Scherringer, "but one thing I think is very likely..."
She made a mysterious face.
"That the scent is from Paris. As distinguished as it smells,
it can only be from there..."
"Well, thank you, that helps me a bit..."
(the second part you can find under Miss Dior ESPRIT de Parfum,
the fragrances seem very similar to me)
Sorry for the length!