The Old Lady - Ode to a Past Elegance
First of all: I do not wish to offend anyone with my review. This is my personal impression, not a judgment against those who enjoy wearing the fragrance. The scent may be a treasure chest for many - for me, it was too much of a good thing.
It is a tribute to mature femininity, to powder puffs, silence, wisdom, and the shine of days gone by. It is a fragrance with character - however, it is uncompromising, old-fashioned, complex.
For me personally, too much. Too loud, too floral, too soapy. A perfume that does not resonate with me, but rather overwhelms me. Yet I acknowledge its greatness - just as one might give an old lady the seat by the window, even if one would like to look outside to observe the happenings.
The old lady sits there, amidst the masses. The people around her are stressed. On their way to work, meeting friends… no one is really present.
The subway car has seen better days, but she, she still sparkles. Her hands are slender, her knuckles slightly bent from life - but her aura is strong, composed, dignified.
Flowers circle around her like memories: Ylang-Ylang, gardenia, rose - in full bloom, not shy, but lush.
Bergamot tries to freshen it all up, almost like the slightly lemony scent of the pure soap she begins with every morning. Cleanliness is a must.
Her perfume lingers, even when she leaves the train.
It is not a fleeting whisper - it is a statement. A sign that she is still there. Completely.
And so she will go - in her powdery coat of flowers, wood, and wisdom - yet her scent remains, like a final glance back: majestic, opulent, and unforgettable.
It is a tribute to mature femininity, to powder puffs, silence, wisdom, and the shine of days gone by. It is a fragrance with character - however, it is uncompromising, old-fashioned, complex.
For me personally, too much. Too loud, too floral, too soapy. A perfume that does not resonate with me, but rather overwhelms me. Yet I acknowledge its greatness - just as one might give an old lady the seat by the window, even if one would like to look outside to observe the happenings.
The old lady sits there, amidst the masses. The people around her are stressed. On their way to work, meeting friends… no one is really present.
The subway car has seen better days, but she, she still sparkles. Her hands are slender, her knuckles slightly bent from life - but her aura is strong, composed, dignified.
Flowers circle around her like memories: Ylang-Ylang, gardenia, rose - in full bloom, not shy, but lush.
Bergamot tries to freshen it all up, almost like the slightly lemony scent of the pure soap she begins with every morning. Cleanliness is a must.
Her perfume lingers, even when she leaves the train.
It is not a fleeting whisper - it is a statement. A sign that she is still there. Completely.
And so she will go - in her powdery coat of flowers, wood, and wisdom - yet her scent remains, like a final glance back: majestic, opulent, and unforgettable.
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