Ponticus

1990, Lagerfeld Classic had been on the market for a dozen years by now, had rolled over the Federal Republic of Germany like a scent roller in the 1980s and had captivated many a fine suit wearer in the process. But above all, Lagerfeld Classic had conquered the disco and party floors of the halls saturated with Michael Jackson, Blondie, Nena and Falco music and smelled strong, spicy-oriental from every pore of the mullet wearers in carrot jeans and neon jackets.

At some point, when the province was also conquered and even chest hair toupee, gold chain and socket tan wearing fringe groups had made their experiences, it was too much of a good smell. One of the best perfumes, Lagerfeld Classic, had simply over!

And now? Where to go with all the striking flacons? Of course, in the East! There ran until then the disco and dance evenings at least as enthusiastically as in the "old" Germany. Sure, more alcohol was flowing, but in terms of scent, the majority of people in the former East Germany didn't have much in their quiver apart from soap, green apple shampoo and deodorant. Since the new fragrant land of milk and honey came just right.

To such a bottle Lagerfeld Classic also got the protagonist of our little story in the early 90s. If he had known at that time who Karl Lagerfeld was, a, in his eyes, overcandid fashionista with his stupid fan, a busybody before the Lord and an epitome of arrogant arrogance - he would never have tried Lagerfeld Classic and his life would possibly have been different! Sometimes it was probably quite good that one did not notice everything behind the "iron curtain".

The fragrance was a revelation. The beginning with fresh greens and tart-sweet citrus strongly embeds the quickly emerging woody tobacco notes, which point the way for the long profound, dry-pudgy way into a sweet-marked and very masculine orientalism. This gradually changes, always with a woody underlay, from spicy-warm to vanilla-warm with a beguilingly attractive cuddly tone. An unmistakable, a unique fragrance! Until today!

So detailed, he could not at that time certainly tease apart, but of course he smelled wood, tobacco and vanilla, also herbaceous with fresh spice. However, really important for him was, Lagerfeld Classic smelled of freedom, the big wide world, elegance, wealth, independence, just everything he missed so long. And it didn't stop with the years! While elsewhere disillusionment set in, he wore his scent with his head held high and abundant always and everywhere for many, many years. By now he also knew who Karl Lagerfeld was and what he represented. He still didn't like the person, but liked his scent all the more and was happy and affirmed when he met people who smelled just like him. No thought of mainstream and the like.

Today he also uses other perfumes with different characters and individualities. "One has finally evolved" and also makes thoughts about a perfume and where, how, why and what has to be. None, however, will ever top Karl's classy Lagerfeld. And it's not the fragrance or Karl! It is the wonderful memories and extraordinary experiences of the years, which already bring out emotions in him, if he only gets a glimpse of the typical bottle.

So surely everyone has a fragrance, a thing or a thing in which so much of one's life is contained. And I am very sure that in the end he is very glad not to have known it once!

Thank you very much for letting me entrust this little story to your attention!

"Letter to the Field"
Dearest Paul, you are in good health and well. That is the main thing. .....also, I want to thank you sincerely for the lovely perfume gift as part of your loving package. When I wear this Habanita, I smell the chocolaty-spicy scent of your smoking, heavy and sweet, but in a moment it is floral again, powdery-vanilla and resinous leather smells, like your doublet to which I cling very tightly. I feel protected by your strong hand and at the same time I am full of longing for you. I long for home and child, to please you and our little family, but at the same time I long for passion and wild life. I want to be all woman for you dearest. Just come home soon!.....The world is playing with itself here and I am very afraid that our presumptuous megalomania of war will one day fall back on us in destructive fury. Take good care of yourself my little Paul, the Frenchman does not like you, certainly not there in Paris. .....

"Longing for Life"
Dear big sister .....were you still raving about your new perfume in your last letter? "A wild sensuality of fine smoke, strong florals, sweetness and later dark mystique, while spicy and warmly vanilla. A small, fragrant impression of the restless, erotically charged life here in the big city."
Mom also still has a half-full bottle of this Habanita in her old scent box. Admit it, you didn't know that! Anyway, I tried it too. It smelled lovely of flowers and vanilla, leathery like the scuffed school bag, sweet, warm of spices and resins of the Orient just like in our old stories, and it smelled like the secret, liqueur smoke of the girls' corner at school. I notice in it, too, such a wild, erotic feeling for closeness, as if there were no tomorrow, as if freedom to do anything possible were close at hand. I wish I was with you in the fullness of life......

"Diary entry - life lived"
Today I rewarded myself and put on a good spritz of Habanita. This and looking in the mirror in the morning reminded me of my first encounter with this perfume. It was an explosion of the senses, a whip for the budding housewife, a guide to the emancipation of femininity. Smoky woman, self-determined sex, violent, sinful, dark, wild and always vanilla, this is how the scent stuck to my skin for a long time and fit so well with the times. That was decades ago.
No, dear diary, no whining and regret in retrospect, but as I saw again this morning, life has already left plenty of marks on me. Marks that advancing age just happens to write. They are buried deep in the creases of my face and here between the lines along with some dreams. But I was never unhappy because of that, my life was and is a content one, I look back gratefully. The encounters with Habanita are small islands of happiness for me today, beautiful memories at the end of a fulfilled, intensely lived life.

Habanita by Molinard has accompanied generations for almost 100 years. A women's perfume for a lasting impression in private or in public, for the promise of sinful messages, also for the presentation of noble wardrobe, for the business woman, the housewife, the femme fatale and if he wants, also for a self-confident man. Of course, Habanita is still an immoral offer today, even a wonderfully fragrant as well as a proven, durable and very fair companion.

Thanks to you for following my little look at those times!

My mother passed away a few years ago, after a long, difficult illness as it is commonly called. She had cancer. But only my father knew how hard it was, especially for him. For a long time after that, Dad struggled with himself and life, couldn't get going, was listless and let himself go. He was no longer a pretty sight, and he refused help when it was offered. Then he met a new life partner and everything changed.

Now dad goes straight home after work immediately, always, every day! He unlocks the front door and goes straight to her room. There she sits in the high-backed armchair, smiling at him. She is already waiting impatiently for him to come. For him, this is the highlight of the day. The greeting is a gentle kiss, a fleeting caress and a catching of her friendly gaze and a breath of her fabulous scent. She smells so wonderful. Often he sits down with her and tells her about his day. Sometimes he nods away for a moment or grabs a beer and enjoys the quiet, relaxing time of the end of the day.

The two have been together for just under a year now. They have supper together at the dining room table, as they do every time, and then sit on the canapé in unison. The television is on in the background. She has thrown on a wide, fluffy scarf and wears under it, as usually, the skimpy, lace-trimmed "little black dress".

This "little black dress", he had bought her. He was very embarrassed at the time and to lighten up the awkward situation in the store, he asked the saleswoman for a suitable perfume. She seemed to have been waiting for it and very quickly brought a small black bottle with a golden ribbon and the smiling, as he thought, smug assurance that it was just the right thing. She had not been mistaken!

Today, the two, the black party dress and Black Orchid are one. He smells of her sweet fruity fruit, woody hay floral and musty flowery moss. He can smell a fleshy body, as well as the black, already somewhat stained dress and very clearly voluptuous sweat, although she never sweats. Thereby also sweet-berry juice, velvety wood and a strong flower. The notes to be described as dark, creamy-earthy, foul, damp-musty and mushroomy are the aromas that form the sinful background for this, to make the fragrance seem so passionate, mysterious and physical.

My dad doesn't really know all of this in such detail, but from the first spray he found the dense and dark scent very appealing and on his sweetheart the smell became more and more beautiful and enchanting. It's like she and the perfume are fused, alive, quivering and he's a part of it. It makes him very happy. Applied Black Orchid almost every evening before going to bed, Saturday and Sunday gladly in the morning and often a splash more.

Dad and his new wife are almost always together. Except for the time he spends at work, they both live their togetherness. They eat and drink together, watch television, and are there for each other. Most of all, they sleep with and with each other. His new love is of a quiet nature, she doesn't tell stories and she can't cook either. Nevertheless, he considers her his confidante, his dear wife.

Today I visit father as every week on Sunday afternoon for coffee, also to see how the "old man" is doing. These meetings are always nice hours and he looks forward to them. Gently he grasps his wife around the waist and carefully places her in the large wardrobe, far behind his suits. Never would he get the perverted idea of just letting the air out the way I often do with my Lisa!

With thanks and regards to my father.

Thank you for your companionship into a strange but imaginable world!