Yes guys, one of my first niche fragrances, and at a time when I had less than a church mouse. My story with Black Afgano began at the age of 17 one night, when I was totally drunk on my way home and entered the almost empty bus. A sillage pricked through my nose directly into my brain, so intense that I almost stopped halfway to my seat as if paralyzed. WHAT IS THIS? I asked myself the question and looked around desperately looking for the wearer of this scent. There were only a handful of people on the bus and I could not expect any of them to do such a thing. I felt I was being led around by the nose and was even so desperate by this oppressively dark cloud of scent that I looked upside down under the seats. Like such a hectic croissant I looked to the left, right, up, down, criss-crossed. One could see that you were slowly but surely cultivating the idea that you had no business on the bus at this time of day. All were off the hook for me except for one, the bus driver. It definitely came from the front, but I would never have thought that a bus driver with this appearance would have such an individual taste. (NoFront) I went step by step to Him in front and became more and more sure, this is the culprit. The evidence spoke for itself. This dark, resinous, oriental-wooden boost, which kept poking through my nasal cavities into my thinking organ, seduced me in such a way, as no "drug" before.
I said to him, "Excuse me, uh... what's that scent you're wearing?" And he just looked to the side in surprise and said, "Watts? Yeah, you have no idea... did is mmhh... "Wait, did is Afgan... Afganoo or sooo.. I just said: "Where... Where can I buy it?" And the bus driver again: "Well, I have no idea, my wife has no idea where she got it from." For that moment I was both angry and amazed. Angry because this man was so uncharming and therefore said about a fragrance that meant everything to me at that moment. Amazed, because I thought, how can such an unimpressive man carry such a work of art on himself and then not even really know what it is. I didn't know if he was pretending to be cool or if he really seemed so dumb, because it couldn't be, I mean, didn't he smell what I smelled? Okey it was not only the art but also what this scent had done to this man and with this man. No other scent remained so positive in my thoughts as this one. Nobody wearing Black Afgano had such a fantastic scent like this irreverent bus driver. Sorry for my anger in my stomach, but it's all coming back to me now...
The next day I called the Kadewe, because I knew of course that neither Harbeck, Diamant nor Douglas would have such a wicked scent in their assortment. A young lady answered the phone and almost took away my hope by saying that you don't carry this scent here, but I might have a chance in a small perfume shop in Bleibtreustraße right next to the S-Bahn station Savignyplatz. "BelleRebelle" was the name of this small but nice store.
I, still green behind the ears and with a virgin nose on my way to the store, jumped in with a kind of euphoria, but still with a tingling feeling and saw bottles on the shelves, fragrances whose names I couldn't even read, let alone pronounce. A mature attractive woman came out of the back office and greeted me with a gentle and slightly offbeat manner. She was so gentle and relaxed that she cast a spell over me. Actually I only wanted to buy the scent and leave again, but she philosophized me so fully and I was so excited about all the scents she showed me that I didn't want to leave.
After what felt like an eternity, I went home with my scent and 10 more samples.
What should I try first? First this one or this one? I was definitely overwhelmed, but knew that this woman had just opened a door for me, or rather, she had restructured my synapses. Because I was addicted from that point on. Gizzy: "Hello I am the Gizzy and I am an addict."
All: "Hallooooo Gizzzyyyy!"
Right at home I unpacked the fragrance and was thrilled by the packaging alone.
I also couldn't believe that I had just spent 130,00€ for 30ml of black liquid. I knew it, the old one was a witch.
I sprayed two squirts left and right on my neck and not even 10 seconds later my mother shouted from the living room, which was at least 20 meters away, "Boa ey what is that again." I had to admit, the smell was already more intense than anything I had ever known before. My parents hated the smell. I convinced myself it was my personal favourite and went out into the world. Everyone but really everyone around me gave me negative compliments. As I later realized, the scent really did smell penetrating and sour on me. Okay, I didn't know how to dose it, but once I knew, it didn't get any better. I looked for mistakes and wondered how it could be? This scent that had so excited me that day disappointed me so much about myself? Compulsively I tried to apply all possible dosage variations on different days in such a way that it reminded me of this miracle moment. In vain I had to realize that this could not bring back the euphoria of that day.
It took me years to understand that this was the way it had to be for me to gain access to the world of fantastic fragrances. So Black Afgano was my gateway to Neverland.
Thank you for letting me share this with you.