Is it real or is it perfectly managed illusion of belonging to original was on my mind when she entered my zone. The worldwide known scent of many generations flew molecole by molecule spreading around her and stitched my nose. Nothing was more awakening and requiered to grab my attention towards this lady that day – the carrier of Chanel Nr. 5.
She came from my right, from behind. Her from my eyes hidden walk was telling me that she has to be sure about herself. She wasn’t. This was not because of me or others sitting in the room. It just was. Eventually because this particulare parfume obligates your body language and your inner state be tough, be knowing who you are, what you need and where to get it. There is no obligation only if you are the real one. The red sweater got into my sight right away. Without seeing more I saw too much.
She chosed the free corner on the leather sofa where I was sitting. Maybe it wasn’t real leather. It looked like it was. The feeling I cannot recall. There was no importance for it. Her role in that moment was too interesting to be aware of details. And still I was aware of them.
For some time my brain made a pause from being conscious of her sitting there on the divan in a simply satisfying concept fast food coffee shop – McCafé. The ambience was bracing me with it’s warmly welcoming furniture and the details of the interior design. So usual things became so unusual through the fact where they were combined: books, lusters, wood instead of plastic, flyers and metal. This contradiction kept me coming back to this particular McCafé since it gave me that unique feeling. Usually only for €2,49 – coffee with milk.
The dominance of the scent was extremly irresistable. It draged me back to what I was dealing with few minutes ago. My thoughts were with a wide variety about her and McDonald‘s in her life. Even if this happened in Berlin. In the city where you would not question things of that compilation. I tried to proof to myself that I also shouldn’t. I failed. I couldn’t. So it was to be continued. Without looking at the lady in red I could percieve only that what my peripheral vision allowed me to. A female grown-up in a european type body, the right moves. And still – Chanel No. 5. This was bothering me and simultaneously felt right.
My eyes moved towards her meal tray to see what was her choice. Because there seemed to be no choice for Chanels. Not because they don’t belong into fast food chain. They would probably chose an elite fast food chain. I was curious. The typical menu consisting of french fries, a hamburger and a drink. It was a cup of coffee. The only choice which one could take seriously regarding to her perfume. They supported each other. The rest was disturbingly unbalanced towards each other. French fries and the No. 5 – there is no idea how to combine them to maintaine the class, the classic.
I could see more. I could catch her movements longer. I was observing her and pretending that I wasn’t. She was sitting up straight. All the time which was aproximately 20 minutes. She held her european body in control. The chest was up, the legs close to each other in a feminine angle. Not 90 degrees. It was more above. That made her appear soft. She had good energy, not arrogant at all. It seemed like this woman tried to keep herself in line. Maybe because of her morals, maybe because she thought it has to be that way. The food was picked up in an elegant manner. No rush, no mess on the table.
More details was what I wanted. I had to find out why. Why she was there. Her haircut was a bob. It ended at her jaw and had a tense character underlined with a perfectly straight line. The hands, the european hands – long thick fingers with well done manicure but a lack of nailpolish. The shape was round. Also the hands’s movements were controlled. I couldn’t read more about her looking at them. They did not talk, they just functioned. The function was for picking the food and demonstrating her jewelery – golden rings. When they apperead in my sight I zoomed up to her upper body again. A golden chain and golden earrings. At least one on my side. Her left side I didn’t see. The whole picture brought new idea. All the things I saw reminded me of eastern european women. Was she? I will never know.
The dismatch was so clear to me that I could only pay my lost drops of attention to her throusers. Grey was the color. Red, grey and Chanel. Gold and the french fries were not important. These three elements build a cage for her. Her aura was screaming that it wasn’t her. It seemed that she could not manage the fact who she was with the need of the society surronding her of what she had to be. That was why No. 5 came into game. Possibly. Was it a guard for her? Would you attack somebody wearing No. 5? A person with a strong character? People usually let the Chanels be and make their strong decisions by themselves.
The lacking strength in her energy was suppousely the main reason why I could enjoy this parfume and enjoy the scene. Even if it was played so carefully it couldn’t fool. But somehow I was wondering what made me inhaling this fragrance consciously over and over again.
We didnt talk. If we would I would see less and know too much.