Balade Sauvage Dior 2017

Whenever I apply Balade Sauvage, I think of two things: the coast and the beach. The sea surges in deep grey, the waves crash on the beach. The spray foams up. The sand is wet. It roars. It roars. In this painting, the air is always hazy: moisture like the finest spray touches my skin, infused with a salty tang. Today there are weather conditions when I say to myself, "The air looks like 'Balade Sauvage' smells." And, as it were, on such days it looks like I feel when I wear "Balade Sauvage."

As time passes, the sky clears. We smell: Citric, fig. Then just more fig. In the end, there is no real scent progression. "Balade Sauvage" just gets quieter and disappears. As soon as the sun is visible, there are dunes, I walk through sand. A variation on the Jever ad, the colors desaturated, people and lighthouse gone. Not just gone - very far away. The sky is not bright blue, but pale. White. The sun a circle of lighter white. Washed out. I am alone, only beach grass and lilacs are there. This feeling of being alone, of roaming the beach, of wind in my hair and salty air against my cheek is wonderful, transported by scent alone. When I wear the scent, I am enough for myself.

After five to six hours, the walk is over. The legs are exhausted, the body tired. We go home.

The good can be so simple