Gandix

You know that feeling when you can't help,
but smile?
The corners of the mouth pull up as if by itself?
So it went to me the other day, when I fluttered this sample in the house
and I sprayed it on.
The weather, grey dreariness and freezing cold,
for days.
The mood minus 50° Fahrenheit,
but, you know how it is at the moment.
And then I take this sample to hand,
spray...
...and suddenly the sun blinks through the gloomy grey,
sends its warming, citrusy rays into my face,
and I begin to smile....

It's a wonderful citrus,
more creamy,
as it spreads across my skin.
Underlying it all are gently herbaceous notes,
that I can't make out individually.
Nature pure.
The base - do I even want to call it a base? -
It's more like a flickering,
always fluttering up gentle wood notes.
They give stability,
embrace the citrus.
The fragrance is classic and modern in one,
wonderfully light and pleasant to wear.
And I can't stop smiling.
It happens all by itself....

Even as a child, he was a rascal,
the mother had trouble to keep him under control.
Always these scuffles,
pants ragged and full of holes....
Boy, the way you look today,
Holes in your trousers....*
were her words,
and she put him in the bath.
Briefly, he smelled fresh and faintly of soap,
it never lasted long.

As he got older,
it got really bad.
He became a real rascal,
a hooligan.
The scuffles turned into brawls.
It was not unusual for the police to be in the house.
The appearance left much to be desired...
Boy, how you look again today,
Holes in the nose...*
The clothes were scruffy,
his friends were not the best company.
There was loitering,
the girls he changed more often than his shirts,
and he didn't waste any thought on work...
Boy, why haven't you learned anything?
We do care...*

Someday,
as if by magic,
his nature changed
The hair became shorter
the holes in his nose just tiny scars,
the clothes clean and neat.
Today he could even wear a white tuxedo.
The wild boy has become a
a fine young man
a mother-in-law's sweetheart...
Boy, how good you look today,
you can still become something

Of course, the boy was not quite as wild
as he appeared to his parents
nor is the scent,
but because of this transformation, I immediately had this song in my head.
At the beginning it seems,
possibly by the patchouli saffron,
something grungy.
Sporadically, light, fresh notes are interspersed,
which seem almost gently soapy.
The saffron sweetness is fortunately very restrained and pleasant.
The whole mutates into a very pleasantly discreet,
cuddly clean-wood-Oudduftuft.
Always with a certain freshness by the cedar.
After about 2 hours come to me slight similarities
to Oud Wood in mind.
Very fine,
Very noble.
Yes, I could actually imagine it with a white tuxedo.

+ Excerpts from 'Boy' by the Doctors

Chasing Autumn,
what a romantic name,
which immediately awakens images in me,
of a clearing in the forest, the last rays of the sun throwing their light diffusely
through the trees,
'Chasing autumn',
i picture golden leaves..
children chasing after them
But far from it,
as soon as I stand in the clearing, all the alarm bells in my body and in my head shrill
'There's a fire'!!!!!
Rapidly the fire spreads,
the animals go up in ham smoke,
the tarred roads through the woods are blistering,
so great is the heat.
I hear the cries of the animals,
the fear, the agony.
From the trees only ashes remain,
even the blossoms blow away to pale purple dust.
And I stand there, in the clearing,
a mug of coffee in my hand
and won't believe it.....

Don't get me wrong,
it's an excellent, terrific smoke smell,
But if smoke in the fall, why not that of a warm stove,
a campfire, perhaps.
Why do I perceive ham and tar,
in a fragrance that speaks of autumn?
I admit it,
i guess I don't understand him.
But he disappointed me.
My expectations were too high with the name.
I rarely let the name and its reference factor in,
when I rate a fragrance,
but here I do.

If longing had a color,
it would be malachite green, like hope.
If longing had words,
they would be like the whisper of trees in the wind
If longing hit my heart,
it would melt like golden resin.
If longing had wings,
they would be soft, like the feathers of a dove.
If longing had wings,
we'd never be apart again.

Malachite, like Occhio di Tigre, is a fragrance..
that touches my heart to the core.
Malachite starts almost dully,
with alcoholic saffron, cinnamon and
quite dry-woody oud.
It seems at first like a wounded, dead heart.
But from somewhere creeps a glimmer of hope
into this scarred heart.
Softly, like the rustling of leaves,
the whisper of the wind in the trees, the wood grows lighter.
A gentle rose begins to bloom,
seems to pump blood to the heart.
The opening note is still perceptible,
but it begins to shine more and more.
Hope grows with the rose and the soft labdanum,
out of hope comes longing,
a longing for joy and life.
When benzoin and amber are added,
this fragrance hits the heart,
it melts in golden woody-resinous streams.
With vanilla at the end it becomes soft,
like the feathers of a dove
and opens up to the world
"Look here," it whispers in a smoky elemi resin voice,
"I am alive."

Mr. and Mrs. Pappenheimer go shopping.
To a well-known drugstore chain.
Mrs. Pappenheimer is having her good day, that's why today.
Otherwise she wouldn't do this to herself.
She knows exactly what to expect.
How could it be otherwise,
barely through the door,
her husband storms towards the counter,
his gaze magically drawn
by a provocatively masculine-looking bottle,
tight-fitting bodysuit in dark blue stripes.
Of course, Mrs. Pappenheimer has known the scent for a long time.
She is often enough here,
to sniff through everything.
Now goes an attractive saleswoman,
black, tight-fitting trousers, neat white blouse
walks towards her husband.
Spellbound, his gaze hangs on her lips,
as she tries to make him like the scent....
As if that were necessary,
he was going to buy it anyway...
the bottle alone....
Mrs. Pappenheimer smiles to herself,
she knows her Pappenheimer,
they've been married for almost 30 years now.
She strolls around the shop,
tests here, sniffs there....
Then comes Mr. Pappenheimer
comes rushing up to her, beaming with pride
rushes up to them:
"Smell this. I've discovered a great scent. What do you say?"
(The fragrance has long since been paid for and purchased!)
A cloud of fragrance assaults Mrs. Pappenheimer,
and she takes a step back with a gasp...
clears throat....
the saleswoman had sprayed him from top to bottom.
An overwhelming fruit sweetness invaded her.
After all, she had long since tested the fragrance herself,
knows that when the exaggerated sweetness subsides after hours,
the actual ingredients are not sooo bad.
But in this lushness it must inevitably
think of the so very sweet and cinnamony fruit compote
from Grandma Heidi,
which she couldn't get out of her mouth even as a child,
and which gradually piled up in her cheeks.

Mr. Pappenheimer's enthusiasm gradually collapsed,
because the reaction was so long in coming...
actually, he knew that SHE
such scents do not like,
mumbled something about exchange....
SHE had regained her composure by now...
"Leave it, you can wear it to work,
a scent for home, then maybe I can choose...",
she smiled at him, and gave him a big smack on the cheek...