The Baron de Charlus once told me: 'It was, I believe, in Berlin that I first encountered Adlon Homme. Some runny-nosed waif was attempting to sell it on the street without much success. Unaccountably taking pity on him, I purchased a bottle and gazed askance at this square container of pale blue juice. Truth to tell, I expected the worst: something wan and watery, vaguely oceanic and definitively dull.
Imagine, then, my surprise when, applying this unlikely liquid to both wrists, its unpromising pale blue premiss yielded a conclusion that can only be described as soft, deep, warm and sophisticated. Snorting with delight, I immediately purchased the entire trayful of Adlon from the startled youth.'