The lost button - a search in Vienna and an encounter with Paul Knopf in Berlin

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Artikelinhalt: In Wien, der Hauptstadt Österreichs, verschwindet normalerweise nichts – besonders wenn es um Fahrräder geht. Doch in meinem Fall verlor ich vor der Hofburg einen Knopf. Der Grund dafür war meine Absicht, einem sehr muskulösen Mitarbeiter der Hofburg die Yogaposition Skorpion zu demonstrieren, nachdem er mir zuvor mit einem Handstand seine männliche Stärke gezeigt hatte. Früher hätte ich so eine Aktion betrunken durchgeführt, aber diesmal war ich ehrlich gesagt nüchtern. Beim Versuch, in den Unterarmstand zu kommen, riss der Knopf meines hautengen Lederrocks. Ich versuchte daraufhin im Dunkeln, den Knopf zu finden, aber erfolglos. Auch am nächsten Tag blieb …
Article content: In Vienna, the capital of Austria, nothing usually disappears - especially when it comes to bicycles. But in my case I lost a button in front of the Hofburg. The reason for this was my intention to demonstrate the yoga position Scorpion to a very muscular employee of the Hofburg after he had previously shown me his male strength with a handstand. I used to have carried out such an action drunk, but this time I was frankly sober. When trying to get into the forearm, the button on my skin -tight leather skirt tore. I then tried to find the button in the dark, but unsuccessfully. The next day also stayed ... (Symbolbild/MB)

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in Vienna, the capital of Austria, usually nothing disappears - especially when it comes to bicycles. But in my case I lost a button in front of the Hofburg. The reason for this was my intention to demonstrate the yoga position Scorpion to a very muscular employee of the Hofburg after he had previously shown me his male strength with a handstand. I used to have carried out such an action drunk, but this time I was frankly sober.

When trying to get into the forearm, the button on my skin -tight leather skirt tore. I then tried to find the button in the dark, but unsuccessfully. The next day the search was also unsuccessful. It was funny how I was bent over the sloppy mowed grass surface. In Berlin it would have looked like I had lost my MDMA bag. But what I found instead were three lighters, a filter tube, various cigarette stubs (known as "Tschick" in Vienna), 70 cents and even 10.21 euros. No MDMA bags and no button.

An alternative solution was needed. Fortunately, there are specialty shops for sewing in Vienna, but Paul Knopf stands out. During my next visit to Berlin, I made a detour to his shop on Zossener Strasse. This business is an institution and is only open for eight hours a week. The buttons are stacked there to the ceiling in tubes and boxes, which are not intended for self -sampling. The atmosphere is fulfilled by the spirit of the owner that is prone to possession - due to Paul's dislike against reinforcing, the articles are excluded from the exchange.

On the wall, a postcard with the sentence "A beautiful dress can not disfigure anything". This was also the opinion of Paul's employee, who wanted to block my intention to replace the missing button with the usual Berlin snotty: "Looks shit".

While I struggled through the button chaos (hands away from the boxes!), I watched fascinated how different Alexander, the employee of Paul Knopf, treated his customers. Sometimes he dies her, sometimes he died her, sometimes he called her "sweet", then there were word battles again. The topics ranged from the individual wishes of the costume designers of the series "Charité" and "Babylon Berlin" to his mother. Alexander kept turning around the hot porridge, or, to say it with the words of his customers: "Do you have a drinking water again?".

After all, it was a quarter after six and I was the last customer. It is strange how people constantly tell me their life story, but now good: Alexander was born in East Berlin in the 1970s and his youth was shaped by western retirement wood and New Romantic glamor. A Moccabar called Grandanwahn, which was under the television tower, was also part of his youth: "If you were in there as a Westboy, you had made it".

Although he was obviously gay, Alexander had an ex-wife and also his mixed breed dog Jule showed queer tendencies by pushing her snout under my skirt several times. I imagined that I would never lose anything with her.

Ultimately, I left the shop with three different buttons that were either too big or didn't have the right color. Nevertheless, I had the feeling that I had a successful day. Incidentally, just because a man wears someone on hands does not mean that he supports you.