Gandix

Here I have a trip
from typical dry iris
to the radiantly blooming plant,
iridescent pale blue-violet,
buttery soft.
(Hyacinth plays to it)
She blooms lonely in a meadow,
in the middle of the vetiver grass,
Labdanum entwined.
In my mind I have a picture,
sacrificing its precious ingredients for a cream,
that leaves a skin incredibly nourished and soft.
The flower then withers,
lies down on a
soft, earthy bed
of patchouli and tonka,
as I do in this brightness,
Softness,
never smelled before,
to bloom again next spring
to bloom anew again.

Teone has created an iris scent here,
that sends me on a very special journey..
i like to experience from beginning to end.
For me, a perfect iris scent.
Reinthal fragrances should generally be dosed very sparingly,
and give them a lot of time for their development.
So also this,
because:
He who sees only the moment,
misses an eternity.

A city tree
wanted to chew gum,
breathed many little bubbles of wintergreen .
Suddenly, in one of those Wintergreen bubbles
the memory of forgotten times.
He buried his roots
deep into the loamy, sandy soil,
to hold that memory,
to make the bubble grow.
The memory of deep green, moist ferns and lichens,
loamy forest floor,
a mushroom now and then.
And herbs that smelled of that winter green,
that memory had fetched from the furthest back of its bark.
Above it all, lotus blossoms entwined,
and embraced the tree in its
soft dream.
The people stopped
and looked at the tree,
which suddenly had an extraordinary,
radiant green aura,
interwoven with the
Brown of its bark
the sandy clay-yellow of the soil and a touch of the etherealness of this winter greens.
His aura took the people into this dream,
and for hours they were with him
in this place of days gone by.
When the Wintergreen bubble finally
burst,
he and the people
the memory,
that every tree carries within it.

Since eternal times I carry this longing in me,
the longing for the south of Italy and the sea.
So far, I have not come further than Jesolo.
But now I'm sitting on the train,
my Luna next to me,
as luggage only a backpack.
The destination....open.
I want to let myself drift.
3 months off I have taken...

Slowly the train rolls in.
The ride will probably be boring.
But already in Munich a woman gets on,
Italian, unmistakably...
What a coincidence.
She's not sitting down properly yet
she's already starting to talk...
About her family
the visit to a friend here in Munich...
Spellbound I listen,
as she tells of her home, a smile on her face.
The time flies by.
Eventually she dozes off,
and I look out the window...

The high Alps already behind us,
even in the carriage I notice..
that the air is different...
Slowly the sun rises...
The train rolls along the beautiful Lake Como...
I enjoy the sight,
the lake sunk into the mountains,
the beautiful houses,
with the gorgeous gardens...
I know I'm on the right track...
Then I too doze off for a moment,
just in time to wake up again..
as the train travels along the coast by the sea.
Tuscany, I still remain on the train,
my dream is further south.
The Italian girl is still there too,
Francesca is her name...
In Positano she is at home...
And promptly she invites me,
to spend the first days with them.
I don't say no
because that's exactly what I wanted...
Get to know the country and its people,
far away from mass tourism.

So, together with her, I get off the train,
Warmth embraces me.
The climb to the house of my new acquaintance
is exhausting,
but the view is worth every breath.
I look down the slope,
and see the gardens with their many lemon trees,
whose fragrance gently fills the air...
See the endless expanse of the sea,
the azure sky.
I breathe deeply and feel freedom and peace.

And I know why I'm here,
why this longing tormented me...

For I dreamed of lemon groves
Lemons with skins as yellow as the sun...
I dreamed of the sea,
azure as the sky,
Taste in my dream the salt on my lips...
I dreamed....

*Love as deep as the sea....
and as eternal as time....*
(Peter Maffay)

This fragrance embodies for me like nothing else the longing for Italy and the sea, and this year, unfortunately, it had to remain a dream and a longing...
But one day I will sit on the train ...;)

Carnation pokes you in the ear
Do you hear the whisper
of the grasses in the wind?
Smell the muscatel sweat
of the men
when they scrape oud wood?
There is life in nature.
She tells gentle stories.
A single amyris blooms.
Whispers tender whispers in your ear.
Citrusy sparkles black spruce tips
in the sunlight....
The cedar hums softly its song...
A chameleon changes color
from the patchouli brown of earth,
to the dark fir green of the needles
times,
soon back to a lighter shade of the grasses.
Even the citrus sparkle...
It fades into the soft brown of the oud wood...
The chameleon is one with nature,
as am I,
when I lie there,
and let the soft scent
and let the gentle scent work on me.

She sits there in the street cafe and laughs...
Her teeth gleam like pearls...
You can't take your eyes off it...
That laugh,
like a gentle melody...
Your hair shimmers like platinum in the sun...
You forget your cappuccino,
see her put a Giotto
between her half-opened lips,
and are fascinated.
Sun reflections conjure a soft veil around her face...
She wears a white dress...
everything seems bright...
friendly...

You take all this in so casually,
when your eyes meet
and you sink into those almond eyes.
All you would have expected,
green, blue...
but not that color...
and not this depth of her gaze.
It's done for you,
and some time later she moved in with you...

There is nothing more to say about this fragrance.
Delicately sweet almond powder fluff,
with a rich, inner beauty.
And every time it fascinates me again,
whether at PureEve, Haiku, or here.
This incredible tenderness, gentleness.

They say beauty is fleeting,
but inner beauty never fades.