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Notes10/23/2018
Meggi
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Meggi
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22
That was the Paraná
"Lord! The Paraná! The power's coming...!" calls the Indio in Günther Weisenborn's story 'Two Men' to his master, the farmer. Both are already sitting in the middle of a flood after heavy rain, when in the distance a terrible thunder announces that now also the Paraná, swollen by water and wind, is pouring in its deadly flood.
"Suddenly the farmer's shoe stood in the water. He pulled it back. But after a while the shoe stood again in the water... And if you reset the corn crate, you had to reset it a little soon.
That was all, but that was the Paraná."
I don't get this story because it is set in Argentina, the home of Fueguia fragrances. That would be a poor parallel. And a deeper reference would be inappropriate given the harshness of history. I am concerned only with a spontaneous association with the last sentence quoted. My thought about 'Elogio de la Sombra' was: A little iris, a little wood - that's all. More is sometimes not needed for a strong fragrance.
Let's forget the uplifting buttons at the front: the impression of baby carrots with sawdust, the undeniable gherkin gherkin side dish, the strangely furry-fungal mimosa grazing the canned fruit. These are all individual, preparatory swabs that only unravel in retrospect, as it were, while in the course of the morning the actual work is created:
A cool, calm iris freshness with a hint of floral sweetness is increasingly joined by an impact of young, almost still green wood that blends into the coolness. Iris and wood - that always seems to work well. Bergamot provides a (if one has read it) recognizable trace of blunt bitter acid in the subsurface. At noon a very noble, light-woody freshness shines, which under the care of the iris seems almost sweet-smokey, almost touches the liquorice-like, before the fragrance in the course of the afternoon, under nonchalant reversal of usual conditions, in a tart lemonade of green lemon stylishly fades away.
Here and there the colleagues contributing to the overall picture sometimes flash through soloistically, but this happens only directly on the skin; with a little distance the individual parts, similar to the impressionistic picture, blur to a big whole, more "mood" than perfume and certainly no event.
A fragrance for quiet hours. Of course it can also be used in the office, but it doesn't really feel comfortable there. Too hectic, too many annoying distractions.
I'd like to thank the robins for rehearsing.
"Suddenly the farmer's shoe stood in the water. He pulled it back. But after a while the shoe stood again in the water... And if you reset the corn crate, you had to reset it a little soon.
That was all, but that was the Paraná."
I don't get this story because it is set in Argentina, the home of Fueguia fragrances. That would be a poor parallel. And a deeper reference would be inappropriate given the harshness of history. I am concerned only with a spontaneous association with the last sentence quoted. My thought about 'Elogio de la Sombra' was: A little iris, a little wood - that's all. More is sometimes not needed for a strong fragrance.
Let's forget the uplifting buttons at the front: the impression of baby carrots with sawdust, the undeniable gherkin gherkin side dish, the strangely furry-fungal mimosa grazing the canned fruit. These are all individual, preparatory swabs that only unravel in retrospect, as it were, while in the course of the morning the actual work is created:
A cool, calm iris freshness with a hint of floral sweetness is increasingly joined by an impact of young, almost still green wood that blends into the coolness. Iris and wood - that always seems to work well. Bergamot provides a (if one has read it) recognizable trace of blunt bitter acid in the subsurface. At noon a very noble, light-woody freshness shines, which under the care of the iris seems almost sweet-smokey, almost touches the liquorice-like, before the fragrance in the course of the afternoon, under nonchalant reversal of usual conditions, in a tart lemonade of green lemon stylishly fades away.
Here and there the colleagues contributing to the overall picture sometimes flash through soloistically, but this happens only directly on the skin; with a little distance the individual parts, similar to the impressionistic picture, blur to a big whole, more "mood" than perfume and certainly no event.
A fragrance for quiet hours. Of course it can also be used in the office, but it doesn't really feel comfortable there. Too hectic, too many annoying distractions.
I'd like to thank the robins for rehearsing.
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