As has become a Holiday tradition for me I feel an unnatural urge to mangle the classic Seasonal poem by Clement C. Moore, “‘Twas the Night Before Christmas.” For 2014 I am going for a vintage vibe. Join me for a Christmas Eve with some of the greatest perfumers ever, hauling Scent Nick around the world on Christmas Eve.
‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through Poodlesville
Not a Colognoisseur was stirring, not even a mouse.
The vintage flacons were arranged by the chimney with care,
In hopes that Scent Nicholas soon would be there.
The poodles were curled all snug in their beds,
While visions of bones danced in their heads.
And Mrs. C in her bandana, and I in my fedora,
Had just settled our brains for a long winter’s nap.
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I and the poodles sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window we flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of crystal to objects below.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight vintage reindeer.
With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be Scent Nick.
More rapid than eagles his perfumers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!
"Now Daltroff! now, Desprez! now, Carles and Beaux!
On, Guerlain! On, Coty! On, Almeras and Roudnitska!
To the top of the porch! To the top of the wall!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!"
As modern frags that before the vintage hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.
So up to the house-top the perfumers they flew,
With the sleigh full of fragrance, and Scent Nicholas too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little boot.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney Scent Nicholas came with a bound.
He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
A bundle of perfume he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a sales associate, just opening his pack.
His eyes-how they twinkled! His dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like La Rose Jacqueminot, his nose like a Chypre de Coty!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a Crepe de Chine,
And the beard of his chin was as Tabac Blond as the snow .
The bulb of an atomizer he held tight in his hands,
And the sillage it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook when he spritzed, like a bowlful of jelly!
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old perfumista,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself!
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled the room with scent, then turned with a jerk.
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose!
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the remains of an eau de cologne.
But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!"
It is with a very full heart that I wish a Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to all the readers of Colognoisseur. Starting my own blog this year and having you here to share it with me has been a year-long present.
–Mark Behnke
And your blog has been a wonderful present to us! Thank you, Mark, and Merry Christmas!