We wore him like the signal cloth in our jeans. In the lecture hall we recognized each other when we noticed this smell. Kouros created a lasting bond between us. And as narrow boys we ourselves were probably never closer to a Kouros than in those days. At least that's the way my memory wants it. At night, in our bars and discos, all of Paris really smelled of Kouros. The reactions of the people in the bus and metro confirmed that the Sillage was strong and our scent was not their scent. We decided to think of Kouros as a sexual perfume. We learned that the animalistic puff that hung longest was called civet. And at the same time a very peculiar sweetness, which was perhaps due to the honey. Herbs, animal and human secretions, woods, chemicals such as those from detergents, Campari, the dominant coriander, which was actually used in all perfumes of the 80s. It did not stand in the room as a defined aroma, it was the cast-iron vessel of many completely incompatible aromas, which suddenly came together so fittingly and overwhelmingly, as if it could not be otherwise. Kouros smelled like our nights, sounds and escapades. Loud and dirty we liked and we had nothing against the Parisian "tearooms", the urinals, with which our scent was quickly associated. Dirty and full of flavors like these shirts at the end of a far too long party night full of loss of control. The smell was as shockingly loud as our shirts and clubs, which were called discos at that time. How could we not like it? Saint Laurent had posters hung on which the flat, marble-white bottle, which was modelled on archaic youth sculptures, was placed in front of a blue sky next to an incredibly perfect naked man. But we had Kouros, his fragrance, of which Luca Turin will later write in his "Little Book of Great Perfumes" that it smells "like the tanned skin of a guy with pomade in his hair who just got out of the shower". I have never seen him, at La Coupole he was always just gone or would come very soon. Now we lived in his city, which promised great freedom, and we could see him in person. He had already gotten naked in the 70s, when the shame of the province still ruled us. In the white customer toilet the milk-white Kourosseife. We would have liked to buy them from Saint Laurent, who made the most beautiful ones, but we couldn't afford it. White pants and loud shirts, the uniform on boulevard and campus. ![]() The future a white sheet that we would describe as long and beautifully as possible. Now there was a lot of horizon, and Paris stood up for it. The Coming out had been completed at the end of the 70s in the homeland. Mr Reiser spent the early 80s as a student in Paris.
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