Paris - Paris Chanel 2022

Papa's aversion to Paris was puzzling. Otherwise, he could hardly refuse anything to his Lucifer (my mother), but he sabotaged her dream of Paris in many ways. You could tell - it was personal, something had happened between him and Paris.
-Dad, I'm at the Louvre and I've seen the Venus de Milo!
-Oh, is it more impressive than the statues from the Hermitage?
-Dad, Versailles isn't as opulent as I thought it would be.
-Of course not, you are spoiled with palaces that surpass everything.
-Dad, I feel so sick, the scallops with champagne caused a severe allergic reaction.
-Oh God, you shouldn't eat those fancy French hors d'oeuvres. Drink a little vodka.
So it was personal and it was puzzling because my father never shunned a trip, he enjoyed eating exotic and dangerous foods (I only mention - self-caught barracudas) and no matter where in the world we were, Dad would buy an encyclopedia about the current country/city/river and study it from page 1 to the publisher's information.
He tolerated the existence of Paris and punished it with careful indifference.
But he liked this Paris by Chanel.
I knew that the scents were now overwhelming for him, much was quickly too much, and I only sprayed the fragrances when leaving the house, quickly, secretly, a little, so that the whipping icy air, which in this metropolis consists of 90% exhaust fumes, could free me from the last scent molecules after a few hours.
But a hint remained in my hair, and during those 3 days, when we stood on the border between finitude and eternity, Dad often said that I smelled like the frozen rose, photographed on the day of my engagement, and if the roses in Paris smell like this, then he missed something in life and at least Lucifer must absolutely visit Paris.
I can't say more about this scent - it is a frozen rose, a hint of patchouli gives it seriousness, shrouded in silvery-gray veils (is this the cold of Neva? Is this the wind by the Seine?). And the finest citrus notes that Chanel has generously but thoughtfully incorporated bring nothing Mediterranean or summery-happy with them. They are more like winter sun, struggling to break through the leaden clouds after the cold paralysis. It doesn't immediately bring spring and hope, but the eyes, initially blinded by the low-standing star, gradually adjust to the light.
Paris-Paris is the scent for many moods - it invigorates in leaden fatigue, grounds when the soul is restless like the wind, and allows one to accept their own melancholy and sorrow with reconciliation. Not la vie en rose, but cendres de rose - ashes of the rose.