Siebenkäs

Theresa decided on the Twin Set in bottle green.
She knew that this certain level of Britishness was not unimportant to your plan.
And that was... we say ingenious. Sophisticated.
But not without a chance.
Because she knew the congressmen.
She took the bottle out of the packaging again.
Her husband had brought the perfume from a business trip to Berlin. Homme by Marbert.
What an inconspicuous name. Those Germans. They already had a certain coolness.
She sprayed herself a little bit on her arm. Actually unnecessary, she had only put a few sprayers on her neck in the morning. Just to be on the safe side, just to check again what this scent could do.
And immediately she had experienced this fascination again. This strange recognition of something familiar and at the same time amazed at something new.
It started with a strange mixture of spices and fresh lemons. Maybe they were typical German spices, she didn't know. Anyway, it reminded her of her childhood. It was a kind of fresh kitchen smell where the coarse wooden furniture that her aunt Polly had had could still be smelled, soft wood and sliced lemons and a few spices, perhaps sage or basil or thyme or oregano.
Or all mixed up. And then slowly a kind of sweetness was added, very shy, like from a cake dough with a delicate vanilla aroma. Gradually flowery tones appeared - perhaps roses, perhaps some ornamental flowers, as the Germans loved them on their windowsills? She didn't know, it wasn't important either. What was important was the irresistible appeal of this fragrance. Finally the spicy, the flowery and the sweet currents merged as in a delta and flowed into a soft, delicately sweet and at the same time woody-fresh expanse, an unobtrusive, but clearly perceptible fragrant ocean that remained long, long.

And now there it was, the day of the decision.
She looked in the mirror again. She went over her speech again. Then she went into the care of her driver and was taken to the Palace of Westminster.
Soon afterwards she entered the House of Commons.

She had fought for a long time to achieve a new vote. And it had not been easy to persuade fifteen members of her party to give everyone in the House of Commons a spray of Hommes by Marbert before their speech - with the words "Enjoy the smell of the future!
But the House of Commons was used to unconventional measures and actions. Hardly anyone wondered big.
Your speech was short and precise. She knew that was exactly what you loved.
It ended with the sentence: "So please say YES to my proposal and to a customs union with the EU, if you want the best for our country. And if you want that such marvels like the perfume you can smell on your arm will have a chance to reach our country in future. Thank you!"
And then came the vote.
376 YES. 122 NO.
The rest is history.

Maybe I should have just kept my mouth shut,
but something rode me to say something.
"Interesting rumor hashed on you today..." I began.
"Sweet but spicy at the same time. Striking but still harmo-
nish..."
"Platitude but cliché..." Richie flew at
and sniffed at his forearm.
"You're like an advertising fuzzi. But you're right,
it's not so bad."
The joke was the one - I knew exactly what he was on
sprayed on him. Had a dent in his jacket in the hallway-
i saw him in a bag and took a quick peek. Or gripped.
I know you don't. Got it right back
the Burberry London bottle with the check
Coulter drum. 30 ml., special offer, receipt included.
So the game could start.
So I'm like, "What the hell is that?"
"I don't know, I tested somewhere today..."
"I'm getting better and better... Bitter-sweet, that's the right one
Expression. And a little like mulled wine..."
"Findste? I can't smell a cheap plörre in there."
"Nah, you're right, more like... Sweet wine, Chateau d'Yquem
maybe...with tender leather..."
"Exactly!"
"...and finest vanilla pipe-tobacco..."
"Maybe so..."
"But it reminds me of something... i think... let
i'll sniff... yes, exactly... Ungaro III."
"You're really good, that's what this is about!"
Where'd you test it?"
"I don't know anymore... somewhere in the bend zone..."
"Come on. In the bending zone. Stand probably
between Ebène of Balmain and Maccassar...
Besides, the Ungaro is more floral and unsweeter."
"Maybe it was something else, but it doesn't matter."
"Too bad you don't know anymore..."
"Bullshit! That's probably just the mixture anyway
to my sweater, Richie special mix from the last
Weeks of testing..."
"Then let's find a name for it..."
"If it makes you happy..."
"...I'd like a city name... how about Amsterdam?"
"Whatever..."
"Or even... London?"
Richie froze for a second
"Nah, junk idea. "So not a good fit"..."
"All right... Perhaps... um... Lüneburg? Old town,
Tradition, historical depth, understatement, romance..."
"Yes, I wouldn't think soo wrong..."
"Sounds good combined with 'nem renowned
Manufacturer... like "Burberry Lüneburg"...
Now he got really nervous.
"Are you stupid? But not mainstream for
the Richie Special!"
"OKAY. Like, "Juliette Has A Gun Lüneburg..."
"More like..."
"Or better yet, individually tailored to you: "
"Richie Hates Mainstream Lüneburg"
"Now hammers!"
"But of course without Flanker - so never something like
"Richie Hates Mainstream Lüneburg Sports"
"Of course not"
"Then it's all clear."
"Crystal clear, Richie!"
It turned out to be quite a night.

That I can get out through the little window to the roof,
from there to the next and from there down into the streets -
he probably doesn't even know that. Or he'll tolerate it,
because he won't take away my little bit of freedom.
In fact, he treats me very well. Three issues of
"Hangover Murr" he gave me, a beautiful and valuable
than the other. And in my bowl always comes the very good
Sushi from Divellec, which I love so much.
During my trips over the roofs I have some friends
with which... But no - I want to start with the
which will surely interest you more:
31 Rue Cambon.
I can get both here by the way - Eau de Toilette like
Eau de Parfum. I compared them. (You love this)
Right paw the one, left paw the other.
They're like two sisters with the same character,
but a little different temper.
The EdT (so you say?) jumps at me pretty lively,
with claws extended. I like this kind - am it of
i used to live with some friends. The EdP prefers to nestle to
and is a little cuddlier. With time, resemble each other
but then their beings more and more.
First of all there is a soft floweriness, mixed
with a delicate fruit sweetener. Or first is this light
Spice there, with a pinch of mild fine pepper? Never mind.
Now it gets a little powdery, a nice iris shows up,
elegant and not at all lip-sticky or even a little bit apathetic.
(I know some aunts who smell differently.)
It also does not remain so, because now comes the cigarette
box. Yeah, there's something for me that would put me on a
just opened pack of cigarettes. Not only
smells like light, fresh tobacco, but also
for cellophane. A typical new smell.
And finally everything becomes very soft, ambered, with the
best cistus I've ever sniffed. So graceful
between resinous-tobacco-tart-bitter, slightly fruity
and a fine blossom honey.
Beautiful to purr.

By the way, hangovers can also wear it. Francois I
on the roofs, that says anyway.
He's very, very educated, even more than I am. And he knows
a lot more people than me. Besides, he's got one of those
sweet white spot in his elegant grey fur.
I admit it - I'm a little in love with him.
I also told him about another scent,
who is always at my disposal and whom I like very much.
Because I love everything that has to do with balls.
When I'm alone - I am quite often -
i like to play with one of the balls from my collection.
The fragrance is appropriately called Bal d'Afrique.
Francois said I was a little fool,
because a completely different kind of ball is meant.
Francois is just an intellectual.

When I'm out with him and his friends,
then I'm always kind of... a completely different one.
Then I want to be like him and his friends -
like Filou, the dog of Thierry, like Maurice, the one-eyed
or like the brave, wild Anouschka with the mangy fur.
Wants to improve the world, change something, for justice
fight. Instead of being left in a luxury ghetto like this.
But then I remember the sushi from Divellec again.
Oh, it's not easy for an animal that only has such a small
Heart has.
Maybe sometimes you guys feel that way
Merci for your time and feel delicately scratched.

Your Choupette

The rain obviously couldn't decide either,
it fell flat on the shiny plaster, in which the neon
Writing of the "Krachnest" and the lights of the few other
Shops, then he preferred to let the wind
drift across the mostly shabby cars, which are almost completely
park left and right of Oranienstrasse. That Berlin in winter
was hard, he'd been told, and he'd believed it.
But now that it was real, it was different.
Anselm struck the collar of his dark blue homecomer-
Army coats up. Somehow it was cool. All this
Berlin Island Bleak-Atmo... walled city...coal stove smell
and a sense of so many possibilities.
No wonder Bowie moved here, he thought

He had a date. Another try, the fourth one this week.
Funny how hard it was to find a drummer in this town -
when there were thousands of bands, bands of all styles, from which
most of them played for a few marks everywhere where it's something like that
like a stage. Like over there in "Krachnest", in its basement
they had their headquarters. Rehearsal room was such an uncool word,
it sounded like diligence instead of inspiration, genius and turmoil.

At that moment, twenty meters from the "Krachnest", an old,
dark red hump-backed volvo and parked rather swinging.
It took some time for the door to open and a long, lean guy
i got out of the car. He wore a wide coat with a faded flower pattern,
blue suede trousers with several holes and old laced boots,
that looked too big in spite of his size. So perfect.
A pair of drumsticks looked out of the coat pocket.
"So you're Anselm!" - said the Hagere and walked straight towards him.

And then there was the scent.
Intense and soft, springy, spicy and above all warm.
Warming up, just like that. A stove of fragrance.

"So, you're the drummer?"
"Exactly! I'm your new drummer..."
Uh, yeah, I'm Anselm..."

When he unlocked the door, a piece of memory
in him like a shadow from long faded days.
And disintegrated again.
The scent, however, still intensified in the narrow staircase.
Flowers were added now, heavy and overripe, field herbs,
tart, straight plucked out, a little bitter or also sweetly stunning.
It was confusing, he thought of chamomile tea and an old rose-
bouquet with his favourite aunt in her Viennese Belvederchen.
On the other hand there was this clear edge.
Mysterious, wedged somewhere between earthly and heavenly.
New wave, not punk.

Anselm unlocked the door.
Shortly afterwards the Hagere sat behind the Gretsch Drumkit.
Anselm decided for the Telecaster and started the AC30.
He played the riff from "But a Dream", slightly distorted,
i'm not being cautious, because it wasn't about him.
Suddenly the Hagere stood up again and stepped up to him.
"Before I get started - a little elixir for you..."
He sprayed Anselm, who just kept playing, a few times
from a small amber bottle to the chest.

Then he sat down behind the Gretsch again and started.
Dry, straight as a candle, actually nothing more than the usual
Wum Ta Wum-Wum Ta. But so precise and sharp,
with such a ravishingly swinging hi-hat, which always scarcely
before the first hissing the Basedrum pushed up - more aggressive
and more thrilling than anything drummers have ever done before.
How long that went on - hard to say.
Just as the Hagere a few sophisticated Basedrum snare variants
anselm became completely aware of the fragrance,
he merged with the beat, the riff entwined him,
the guitar tones turned into swaths of flowers and herbs.
To the thunderstorm of flowers and herbs came now what had been missing.
The basis on which everything made sense, the key, so to speak.
A deep, lush, archaic hippie aura that is more likely to deny
and rebellion. Or no, it was the postulate, the essence
of Love and Piece, no ifs or buts. It reminded him of
a wide panorama, in front of which the time courses blurred.

"I knew he wouldn't get bored,
here in the punch society..." said his uncle Nelson,
"but believe me, he's had enough of this elixir..."

Anselm opened his eyes and just saw,
as his uncle swiftly and nimbly the little bottle in the pocket
of his floral dressing gown.

Then he dawned back into the deep vastness of his dream.

So I don't know how to get over to Richie's and ask him,
if he'll lend me the rind.
I'm like, "Well, that's supposed to be awesome, a nihilistic mix of "Decamerone"
and "In Search of Lost Time"! "
Only Richie didn't give a shit.
"Anachronistic and zero own idea. As stupid as it sounds,
it's the same. Take it, you can read it from me
inna ton give!"
So I grabbed that thing and wanted to go again,
but Richie's got something to say.
"You smell like a fucked-up half-Ahipster again,
i hope you didn't buy the broth!"
"Not yet. But it could happen."
"Why did you spray a plörre on your rind like that?"
What are you gonna do when Richie's on it like that? But I knew what.
"Shut up. It's from the Geza Beautiful!"
"Fine. Nice and stupid."
"Shut up!"
"Come closer..."
"Actually reluctant..."
"O.K., hmmm... not totally horny, something smoky next to...
uh... so pepper fruit mud..."
"You were quick again, weren't you?"
"and... there's also some latent incense..."
"Horny idea, the station wagon, isn't it? Ma'honest...?"
"Hmmm... and some kind of hippie flair crawls me in the nostrils..."
"Are you crazy how destructive this is?" "
"You're easy to get..."
"Smell my arm..."
"If I have to... Ey, epic... Labdanum ultrasound...
but pretty cool with the other stuff."
"Notice how that jumps around? Seriously funny-seriously funny..."
"Seriously who?"
"Stop it!"
"Let me still... That's right! Horny... and so woody leather,
with, uh... expired nougat truffles?"
"And the pepper fruit fiddles around, too..."
"More like liqueur! And - there is still something in between..."
"Magnolia, jasmine..."
"Would normally make no sense. But it does..."
"So: fresh, sweet, bitter, liqueurish, smoky. Bang, everything on the twelve."
"Still looks clear in the head... nothing destructured -
more of a grossly ironic over-structure number..."
"For my sake! The Geza halt..."
"Anyway, niche. What's that stuff called?"
"I won't say it!"
"Simmer jetzt' inner puberty again?"
Of course I don't want Richie's laughing fit.
"Got my reasons..."
"Then give me back the rind right away..."
"All right... i'll tell you..."
"I hear..."
"Well, it's called... um... Ultimate Ulti...
"Really? Ulti-Ulti?"
"Nope... Ultimatum! That's the word!"
"Aha! Not bad. So it's a concept name."
"Well, sort of..."
"So what now?"
"No, it's actually in real... Ultimate uh... Mate."
"Ulti Made? Strange..."
"Yeah, Richie. Very strange..."
"Should we get it before the bags get the ref...
(fades out slowly...)