When I was a little girl, I loved that perfume. My mother, who was still smoking at the time, had used it from time to time, and I kept sniffing at the golden, apple-shaped bottle and secretly sprayed myself with it from time to time. When I got older, I really wanted to own this perfume (or EdP). But when my mother gave me a sample bottle to my great delight, I noticed that the scent on my skin did not remind me of sour, fresh apple pie, but rather of apple gummy bears with a washing-up liquid undertone. For many years the glass tube lay in my treasure chest, in drawers and finally wandered into my collection box, because I did not want to part with this memento despite everything. Meanwhile I had started smoking myself, I don't want to hear your opinion. When I came across the test again while cleaning up, I wondered whether something had changed about me in the meantime. I dabbed the liquid on, and the familiar apple pie smell rose to my nose. Apparently the smell of smoke on my skin mixed with the perfume.
And that has nothing to do with my bad sense of smell, because my friend also confirmed that the scent suits me well. For me he will remain a piece of home, a memory of a time in which I have not yet understood all the worries and problems.