Hurray, I know where my Mechanic run off with his hyacinth! He run far away from the lonestar cowboy and sits peacefully with Marie-Helene (for a tea?)… here is what Marie-Helene wrote in a comment further down. Thank you so much!
“Actually the mechanic is with me. He arrived yesterday. It smells wonderful just from out of the box. Will report. Am toying with the idea of sending the mechanic next to China but am afraid it might get lost.”
I used to work for a company where towards the last quarter of any year we would sit together and establish a media plan for next year. That’s the way it should be. As I am a one-man show, there are not many to sit together with, except for W. and Pascal maybe. Because they are friends and know the business. Maybe this is the reason why I do not have a media plan.
But then… why worry about a media plan if you are not willing to spend money for any kind of adds, but rather invest in free samples for folks, like this lovely lady in GB, who probably has no internet, but has heard of me somewhere and somehow.
And then, because this world is full with professional people having to write stories about the new, the exquisite or exciting, we get coverage from time to time. Last Friday, I had the pleasure to chat on the phone somewhat long distance and telling the story of Le Maroc pour elle. Trust me: Not easy…painting the picture of rose fields and white little jasmine flowers and women picking these rose buds and how things are fiddled together in the end in Zurich. The problem: I get too enthusiastic and could fill an entire NY Times weekend edition with my stuff. My poor interview partner will have to put everything together in a little column, for the December! (yes…hurray!!!! can’t get better) edition. I will tell you which magazine when it is out….
Coming back to the NY Times… maybe it is time for …ah well…. so many ideas. I think it is time for an idea plan! Fragrant greetings from the NY times dreamer
 (picture: fictitious NY Times Tauer edition..)
I have lovely neighbours. Darling neighbours. Angels. The W.-factor, who needs a hyacinth training, and I were given the most beautiful roses I have ever received. Roses, some 80 cm high and pinkish colour with red rims along the petals. And: A fantastic perfume. I would describe it as incredibly soft and rosy, powdery and sweet without being sticky. It is rich in ionones, heavy loaded in phenylethylalcohol, not a lot of terpene alcohols, citronellol, a spicy undertone, but very soft; I have to tell you that I have not figured out in what spices it reminds me. It is not peppery, not eugenol loaded clove, maybe it is corriander with its linalool tail?
Anyhow: When driving down town to meet Vero last Saturday, and finally meeting for some words and scents, I confessed that I want to start thinking about roses, once I have reduced the huge pile of cards, respectively once I have sent thank you cards.
And maybe once I have taught the W.-factor what a hyacinth is. I had a hyacinth on the balcony in a little pot. It bloomed last April, had green leafs later in spring and disappeared later in summer like you’d expect it from a hyacinth. But this hyacinth seems to be out of rhythm, impatient and brave: It sent a few flowers right into autumn. Showing this reprogrammed little flower to the W.-factor, I realized that epic sniffing on an endless row of hyacinth modifications did not do much harm to -or extend- his mental concept of hyacinths.
So, I am sniffing these roses every evening. This is truly inspiring….
Finally, talking W.-factor: The almost forgotten l’eau d’épices, the W.-factor’s all time favourite!, reviewed by Linda, on PerfumeSmellingThings. Click here to read this truly outstanding review that made me shiver…. because I almost forgot about the l’eau d’épices…. to be continued
(picture: One out of a huge bouquet of the most beautiful roses, scenting our living room these days)
Yesterday, I had the pleasure listening to an excellent presentation on web 2.0. If you are interested in web 2.0 and where it comes from: I recommend reading Tim O’Reilly’s article on it (2005) following this link. I have done so a couple of weeks ago, not really worrying about my being 2.0. But I realized that intuitively I did things “right”, in a sense the mechanic is “beta”, a mash-up and it is community driven.
This as an introduction to the mystery of Mr. Mecanico’s disappearance.
Sniff.
Although I am good at letting go, I got used to his company and trust me: What is left in my house of the mechanic/hyacinth juice is hardly sufficient to scent a rabbit. He and his flowers exist virtually in an excel, but I was hoping that he might continue conquering the world for a while.
Thus, what happened to him? I’ll bet something serious happened to him. Looking back at his travelling pattern, I can clearly see that he entered dangerous territory.
Lonestar state!
There was a cowboy, lonesome, dirty, with his smile on his face braking, running out of cigarettes, following Mr. Mechanico, this innocent guy with his blue eyes and the hyacinths for his beloved. The Lonestar cowboy did not see the Mechanico’s blue eyes, the beauty of the flowers, but he saw competition appearing. Riding on his horse, in his wide land, leaving a trail of old, broken leather with heavy smoke, he was jealous on this guy in his overall, with his great upper body, built to perfection. “This f… stupid beggar with his lousy flowers”, he thought. “How dare you, sneaking around with your pathetic hyacinth (what the heck is hyacinth anyway!) here in Lonestar state?” , he murmured and looking into the rising sun my lonestar memories cowboy knew that Mr. Mechanico was in for a surprise.
He had no clue.
I was scared one day it might happen: The mechanic disappeared with his flower boquet. At least I haven’t heard of him since about 10 days. Well….I guess it is a dangerous world out there for mechanics with a hyacinth bouquet in their hands.
So I imagine what might happened to him…. … any guesses?
… to be followed
Here we are again, back, somewhat different, but fine. Before I continue here talking about scents and life: Thank you!
The last weeks and days were not easy but the sun was always shining; sometimes warming the heart, sometimes bringing out the shadows. I would like to thank all my fragrance loving friends here for their thoughts, support and their prayers. I have never before in my life received so much love and care.
I want to close this post, sitting myself in an incense cloud (extrême), travelling to Berne again, with a little picture. My godfather child send me a letter, a few words only. She came up with it herself, bringing everything up to the point. Below, my mother as angel, by Rebecca.
Thank you all.
(angel picture by Rebecca Mueller-Weibel)
I will miss these eyes; eyes that started to light in Hitler’s Germany, that have seen Hamburg burning, that were enlightened by the beauty of Switzerland after the war, that have seen the miracles of love and darkness of death, that have watched over me all my years, eyes that have seen the abyss approaching. Being there when these eyes lost their light leaves me alone at the edge of abyss, with tears and a smile in my heart, for the abyss is a place where there is no pain anymore.
My mother left us yesterday, accompanied by the family, at the age of 70.
This blog is closed until end of next week. Please do not send e-mails, rather send prayers.
(Picture: My mother and me, some forty years ago)
Organizing conferences is fun. You plan and plan and speakers do not listen to your super-trooper planning and you get all files too late and spend hours in front of the printer…Thus: Wish me luck with the printer! This machine is wonderful, printing out entire booklets, folding, stapling, and spitting it out after while. I makes huge piles printed papers of which 5% at max will be read, fully colored….except you forget to press this one particular button or one paper sticks in its intestines. Suddenly you find yourself kneeling in front of its holiness, with dirty fingers, fiddling around like a surgeon trying to find out what is blocking its mechanism.
This is more or less where I am right now. I am organizing and finalizing a zero-perfumery one-day conference next week. I doubt that I will come across the perfume idea of the century the next days. Thus, zero posts until the weekend.
…. perfumer hopping off fiddling around with another invention of great implications: Powerpoint!
Very busy day today….thus, just a link to the savage chickens again, fitting with yesterday’s discussions. A daily pleasure, indeed.
Thank you all for your lovely words!
In a sense it is ironical.
Mankind got rid mostly of the dangers of being pray and ending on the shopping for dinner list of Ms. and Mr. predator. We also eradicated diseases like pox, we have the cure for many other diseases and would just need a fair distribution mechanism. We invented central heating and for most of us reading this post, the idea of dying of hunger is further away than a personal trip to Mars.
This we managed as race, for some of us. And because humans are the way they are, we balance things by accomplishing mission after mission, making sure that the sum of human misery in this universe is expanding over the years, like the universe is.
There are explanations, of course, coming from scientists, telling us why we are what we are. Aeons of fighting for survival, for food with competing tribes, of being suspicious towards everything that looks differently, made us what we are. A very, very social, quite intelligent ape who was given the gift of language, allowing us to build empires and destroy them.
We do not seem to be able to share properly and to love each other properly. Or at least respect each other.
Thus, for many “over there”, life is a different reality. And “over there” means a couple of hours in a plane; an easy trip for you and me, comfortably seated in a shiny Airbus or Boing, and with a white Chardonnay on our lips, we can land tomorrow in zero comfort zones on planet earth where drinking Chardonnay in a plane is like dancing on moon for many.
And, for many here and there, life is hate, hate towards an endless stream of hate objects. Maybe it is time to search for a cure of hate.
