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Top Review
The Beautiful and the Damned
Some books I read again and again at irregular intervals, including the wonderful autobiographical novel "The Beautiful and the Damned" by Francis Scott Fitzgerald.
At the center of this moving story are Gloria Gilbert and Anthony Patch. Two dazzling figures, willful and talented, wanderers between suffering and pleasure, emptiness and thirst for life, crashes and hope. They love the stormy heartbeat of the metropolis and the splendidly colorful palette of beauty, sinking into the dream of wealth and freedom and the wild, never-ending nights of the glamorous twenties. They are the radiant star couple of every party, living and celebrating decadently and liberally.
Since both can find little joy in ordinary daily life and conventional employment, and have much more pleasure in consuming, the flow of great money stagnates, while tears and alcohol flow abundantly instead.
L’Heure Bleue is a fragrance that fits this extravagant world - not because it captures the noisy flicker of untamed dance steps on glossy black parquet, but because it swirls the entire intoxication of escapism and reality, light and shadow.
It reveals violet-blue dream landscapes, underlined by harsh tragedy,
glows pale coppery and white gold, is bitter and dry, floral and powdery, complex and tenderly mysterious woven.
It is a special, a memorable fragrance, whose opulent clove nostalgia will certainly not please everyone; it is not a scent for sober asceticism, but one that must be patiently explored to grasp its magic.
It heralds the end of one day and the beginning of the next, summer-warm night magic and autumnal morning melancholy, when the hours of regret and reflection begin, when the glasses are emptied and the feet are danced sore.
When the pale sun breaks through gray clouds, unveiling broken shine and wounded hearts, but the twilight leads back into the blue expanse, hand in hand, every day anew, illuminated by chandeliers, candlelight, and souls lurking hungrily.
A fragrance as special and fascinating as Gloria and Anthony and their entire colorful, abyssal cosmos.
And if Gloria had directed Guerlain's fate, this great classic might no longer exist, for when Anthony asks her, "Don't you want to preserve the old?", she replies, "You simply can't, Anthony! All beauty only grows to a certain height, then it begins to wither, fades, and evaporates memories in its passing. And just as every historical period passes in our minds, so too should the things belonging to that period pass; in this way, they will be preserved for a while in the few hearts that are receptive to them - in mine, for example."
L’Heure Bleue does not fade; it preserves its beauty and continues to grow, like all good and precious things that are meant to stay and grow, reaching some hearts in all times.
At the center of this moving story are Gloria Gilbert and Anthony Patch. Two dazzling figures, willful and talented, wanderers between suffering and pleasure, emptiness and thirst for life, crashes and hope. They love the stormy heartbeat of the metropolis and the splendidly colorful palette of beauty, sinking into the dream of wealth and freedom and the wild, never-ending nights of the glamorous twenties. They are the radiant star couple of every party, living and celebrating decadently and liberally.
Since both can find little joy in ordinary daily life and conventional employment, and have much more pleasure in consuming, the flow of great money stagnates, while tears and alcohol flow abundantly instead.
L’Heure Bleue is a fragrance that fits this extravagant world - not because it captures the noisy flicker of untamed dance steps on glossy black parquet, but because it swirls the entire intoxication of escapism and reality, light and shadow.
It reveals violet-blue dream landscapes, underlined by harsh tragedy,
glows pale coppery and white gold, is bitter and dry, floral and powdery, complex and tenderly mysterious woven.
It is a special, a memorable fragrance, whose opulent clove nostalgia will certainly not please everyone; it is not a scent for sober asceticism, but one that must be patiently explored to grasp its magic.
It heralds the end of one day and the beginning of the next, summer-warm night magic and autumnal morning melancholy, when the hours of regret and reflection begin, when the glasses are emptied and the feet are danced sore.
When the pale sun breaks through gray clouds, unveiling broken shine and wounded hearts, but the twilight leads back into the blue expanse, hand in hand, every day anew, illuminated by chandeliers, candlelight, and souls lurking hungrily.
A fragrance as special and fascinating as Gloria and Anthony and their entire colorful, abyssal cosmos.
And if Gloria had directed Guerlain's fate, this great classic might no longer exist, for when Anthony asks her, "Don't you want to preserve the old?", she replies, "You simply can't, Anthony! All beauty only grows to a certain height, then it begins to wither, fades, and evaporates memories in its passing. And just as every historical period passes in our minds, so too should the things belonging to that period pass; in this way, they will be preserved for a while in the few hearts that are receptive to them - in mine, for example."
L’Heure Bleue does not fade; it preserves its beauty and continues to grow, like all good and precious things that are meant to stay and grow, reaching some hearts in all times.
Translated · Show original
21 Comments
A wishlist for reading & a scent to go with it, and a Pegasus trophy for you.
Nostalgia trophy!
Beautiful -
and like real life - so is the scent.