Hah, harpsichords that smell like smoke? That man is a devil with the
trills, I guess.
The person who used to take care of - something - at the big church in
Göteborg was a great lover of heavy flowery scents (plural - all at once).
There is a side-room there where I had to put my harpsichord between
Saturday evening rehearsals and Sunday afternoon concerts. The air inside
was so dense that you could scoop it with a spoon. Back at home, my Big
French smelled like a bunch of flowers for weeks, and when I fetched its
cover the next time around, I almost fainted. Better than dog hair, I guess.