Illusione Bottega Veneta 2019 Eau de Toilette

A small twig broke off from the branch of the old cedar at the corner of Chester Gate and Albany Street, was caught by the wind, and soon fluttered down Robert Street, where it came to rest before the threshold of No. 21. Then it was still again.
Just then, Anselm unlocked the door. He picked up the twig, took it inside, and placed it on the mantelpiece.
Then he fell back into deep thought.
In less than an hour, he would meet Miss von Hallmackenreuther. What should he wear? And which perfume would be the right one?
He decided on the faded army chinos and the dark blue Comme Des Garcons blazer he had bought at the little second-hand shop at Portobello Market. And the old brown Edward Green monks. He felt safest in no other shoes.
And now for the scent. That would be much more difficult. But then he had an inspiration. Why not this new one from Bottega Veneta? It wasn’t too fashionable, but also not too old-fashioned. Somehow timeless. That’s how he wanted to come across, right? Maybe she would finally see him as he saw himself.
Sometimes he had the strange feeling that they had known each other for a hundred years. That some curious trick of fate kept bringing them together, yet never allowed them to truly connect.
He sniffed once more at the pretty little bottle. Yes, a wise decision. He liked this fragrance. First a bit lemony and fruity, but deeper than usual. Perhaps a third lower. And then so devilishly fairy-tale-like resinous, almost forest-magical, soft dark green in any case. Later also sweet, but still spicy. Undecided like himself. Somehow outdated and yet hip. He didn’t even like the word. And yet he secretly used it often. He felt so out of time again.
Anselm took a few sprays and set off.

Several blocks away at Fitzroy Square, a young woman with short curly hair stood in front of the wardrobe, meticulously surveying its contents.
Lina von Hallmackenreuther chose the polka-dotted light blue dress with the Peter Pan collar. If she had to meet him in a place like the Groucho, she wanted to make the most of it. There weren’t many places where she felt comfortable in this dress. As a counterpoint to the dress, she would wear a men’s fragrance. She knew immediately which one. Illusione.
It suited her because it didn’t commit to anything. Herbal, fruity, woody, and yet also sweet. And soft in the end. Would she be soft in the end too?
In any case, she wanted Anselm to… She wasn’t quite sure herself. He should find her unconventional. Not like the others. For that, this was the right perfume.

As the wind picked up again in the big city and the clouds drifted over the sea of chimneys like lost sheep, the two sat across from each other at a small table in the back of Café Groucho.
Anselm appeared particularly calm. He cautiously sniffed in her direction, for he was very eager to know what kind of scent she had chosen for him. After all, at least this was one thing that connected them - the love of perfume. One of the few things they both knew about each other.
He sniffed and sniffed - but… there was nothing. Only his own scent was detectable, the fine, soft-sweet aura of Illusione. How strange. What could that mean? Had she changed so much that she went out without a scent? Suddenly it dawned on him. She wanted to show herself to him without any embellishment, without games, without a backdrop. She wanted no distance, perhaps more closeness instead.
Anselm's heart began to race.

Lina was not really excited, but somehow… nervous. As if something unusual were in the air. She sniffed in his direction. Surely he was wearing Grey Vetiver again. But no, there was nothing of vetiver or anything similar, there was… she couldn’t define it. Then she almost jumped. She leaned a bit closer to him to take a lint off his collar. He was obviously not wearing any scent today. Only her own fragrance was present, only Illusione, nothing else. What could that mean? Was he trying to tell her something? That he wanted to become a different person? Nonsense.
Suddenly a thought came to her. Yes, that could be it. She was almost sure. He didn’t want to overshadow her, to show her that she was enough on her own with her aura, to make her feel, you alone should be the center…

The waiter came and brought the coffee. He looked a bit strange. He was wearing some kind of bathrobe. Quite hip territory, the area around Russell Square. He set down the cups and smiled at the two.
“You smell good,” he said. “Illusione… I like it too!”