Tuscany per Donna Aramis 1992 Eau de Parfum

The sky arches high in summer in these late afternoon hours, the swallows gather: They can be heard from far away; are they perhaps discussing their upcoming route?
Swallows arrive late and leave us early; their stay with us lasts only a short while, even when summer is long.

Do they see the familiar landscape of Tuscany from up there: Vast, gently undulating, a chequerboard pattern of shapes?
Do they see this patchwork quilt of the most varied fields in familiar shades of green, ochre and brown, with cypress avenues as the seams that so familiarly bring it all together?
They also fly over farmhouses, parks and gardens with palaces, villas and enchanted houses.

In one of these park-like gardens stands a pavilion of ornate wrought iron, very close to the citrus grove with its old trees, dark green lacquered foliage and green, yellow and golden fruits at different stages of ripeness.
Some of them lie in the grass, having rolled as far as the bushes of rosemary, lavender, cushions of thyme and whatever else of Mediterranean greenery flourishes there.
A citrus-fresh, spicy scent hangs in the air, everything is still warmed by the sun and this wealth of aromas gently embraces the formerly white-lacquered pavilion, which over the years has become richly entwined with roses and honeysuckle, their flower-laden green arms marrying fragrantly across its roof: Rich, ripe summer roses and honey-heavy honeysuckle blossoms in the lush greenery lavish their aromas and cast plays of light and shadow from the sun across the table, the small bench and several white-lacquered chairs standing inside, along with the colourful cushions that invite one to linger.
The table is laid with a matching tablecloth, a carafe of water and several glasses; an open book lies there, the handicraft basket stands forgotten on the bench and a broad-brimmed sun hat hangs from one of the chair backs.
Is that my book? Is that my hat?
Truly an idyll - woven into a fragrance blend that flatters the senses!
Everything intended for entertainment has been forgotten: The gaze prefers to wander into the garden, meeting the variety of blooming peonies, the jasmine hedges densely covered with countless white, star-shaped blossoms whose scent touches the senses.
The gently wafting fragrances celebrate their union; they choose these afternoon hours to generously weave together their sun-warmed richness, delighting and soothing us with it.
A certain spiciness lies over everything, the earth breathes and releases aromas of creamy, somewhat masculine and also animalic sandalwood - how powerful and how alive! -, smoky resins that seem to be stored in the soil, and a warm, sensual vanilla note!

Aromatic, citrusy, floral, green and rich in harmonious interplay.
All of this is “Tuscany”, a creation from the end of the last century, a gift of the art of perfumery to all lovers, skilfully and seductively conjuring the charm of this incomparable landscape in an attractive glass flacon.
A few, sparse sprays seduce, inviting one to linger and savour this pampering beauty.
This fragrant afternoon is long, it cannot be rushed: It unfolds richly over time on the skin, until the delicate-coloured twilight brings a tranquil close here as well.

These impressions opened up to me by “Tuscany”, this aromatic journey, enchant me.
I feel transported into a finely woven fragrant painting in which I seem to be completely at home.
This is the place of my Tuscan dream; all that is missing are the olive trees.
But surely we will find them hidden behind the citrus grove, where the land is cultivated, from where the quiet ringing of little bells can be heard, announcing sheep and goats slowly making their way to the barn for milking.
My thoughts drift towards cheese, olives and wine: It has succeeded!

For me, “Tuscany” is a dream in fragrance that fulfils a long-unfulfilled longing.
A longing that I had somewhat set aside in recent months and which now, clothed in well-shaped beauty and wrapped in fruit and flowers, emerges from a painting by Botticelli.