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Manni's our chimney sweep. What am I saying - not just our chimney sweep! He takes care of the fireplaces and heating systems in our entire district.
It's the mid-1990s, and in my childish naivety I still don't have the faintest presentiment that Manni and his colleagues, at least in my romanticized imagination dressed in black, carrying cylinders and smeared with soot, will be in dispute about twenty years later about their professional monopoly. Not to mention I knew what the word monopoly position meant at all. I have to go further - I probably hadn't even heard it yet.
Dressed in black, carrying cylinders and smeared with soot, Manni never really was. But the friendly smiling comic chimney sweep on Mannis white Fiat Ducato - that was it!
Manni is quite a little man. Slightly stocky, beginning tonsure on the head and a neat mustache under the nose. In our neighbourhood everyone knows him of course - and everyone calls him by his nickname "Schorni".
The neat mustache often makes him appear grim, but he is an incredibly friendly, serene guy, who never lets even a hint of hecticness arise. After every visit in his function as heating specialist he leaves a small black chimney sweep plastic figure - it looks funny and, more importantly, it brings luck!
Manni has another very important role for me personally: He is the father of my best friend. Every afternoon after school I go to "Schornis" and watch TV with my friend. Manni walks from time to time through the living room - and always pulls a fragrance tail with him.
The years went by, but the fragrance trail burned into the furthest corner of my olfactory memory.
It's now 2018 and Manni retired a few years ago just in time for the monopoly overturning of his profession. Several decades in the service of our neighbourhood - so that we always have good warmth in winter.
A few weeks ago, I was standing to the left of Manni's son, my best childhood friend. To his right is a beautiful woman dressed all in white with tears in her eyes - they are holding hands. Before them the altar.
I was a lot less nervous than those two. My only job as best man I held in my hands in the form of the ring box - completely clarified and without any hustle and bustle.
I turned around and saw a rather small, slightly stocky man with quite a few grey hairs and a thin moustache standing under his nose in the first pew. He looked friendly, even touched.
In front of the church, accompanied by the ringing of bells, I embraced the bridegroom's father at the congratulating handshake. An all too familiar smell shot into my nasal cavities.
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Epilogue: I strongly doubt that it was already a Duro prototype in the mid-nineties. Should anyone have an idea of what kind of Duro fragrance twin was popular in the 90s, please let me know. The resemblance to the Nasomatto is in any case - so I could perceive it again only a few weeks ago and currently confirm it by a test of the Duro - striking.
With the best will in the world I can think of no better wearer for this fragrance than the manni of the 90s - and the manni of the present.
Knarzig-holzig, nevertheless bright, cultivated and at times even reminding of vacation in the Schwedenhütte. Finally a small trace of soot in the process? Yeah, yeah, kind of.
A very mature, very masculine fragrance - and yet for me personally it means one thing above all: childhood - and what grew out of it.