Helena1411

Let's go dancing, the cotton candy says to the cherry blossom. But this one giggles only shyly behind reproached hand together with the mimosa. No, they say in unison, we don't dare.
But I really want to dance with you, the Macaron calls out to the cotton candy and comes hurrying up in sweeping steps, grabs it by the hand and whirls it around. And they turn and turn and turn in circles until they hardly seem to merge with each other. When the pistachio sees this, it bounces up and down, dancing lightly around cotton candy and macaron, while the musk gently gossips the beat.
At the edge there are still giggling cherry blossoms and mimosa, but at least they move a little bit closer and bounce in time. And last but not least, the Neroli slowly sneaks up and joins the mimosa and cherry blossom, which like inconspicuous background dancers now offer a fruity background to the swirling dance of Macaron and cotton candy, surrounded by the pistachio

A gloomy Sunday afternoon in March, the perfume collection needs a new sorting due to constant growth, the cupboards and drawers are cleared to be filled afterwards again in completely new arrangement. In addition, old treasures, which gather dust unused, should make way for possible new conquests.
Thus the game begins: "the good into the potty, the bad into the little crank", whereby nevertheless very many got again into the potty.
Finally Cašmir of Chopard falls into my hands. First spontaneous reaction: Into the small crank, speak away.
But in the sorting movement, my hand stops. In front of my inner nose, memories of warm, oriental vanilla fragrances emerge, closely connected with the first love and the feeling of deepest femininity. The movement leads back to the nose, with the cap removed only breathe in a small breath of memory once more. Further fragrance pictures are created: long evenings with the best friends, splashing about all the important things in the world of girlfriends, wrapped in the soft Cašmir fragrance cloth.
The hand movement goes a small step further: A small splash and wrist, only once again the once hot-loved golden scent water on the skin smell. The nose smells firmly on the wrist, is unable to detach itself from the mystically heavy, warm, soft scent that seems to span the entire Orient.
There it is again, the magic that inevitably emanates from Cašmir, that fascinates and captivates, sucks you in and carries you away on an oriental cloud.
The "Inside the Potty" movement becomes the "Inside the Potty" movement. How could I give this magical scent, my very first signature scent that has existed for years, out of my hand?

The face of the sun, lying on a summer meadow between humming and chirping, warm rays of sunshine on my skin, dripping like honey on my skin, not sticky unpleasant, but promising and comforting, while a blade of grass in the corner of my mouth and the mild summer wind carries the delicate scent of lavender across to me.
That's exactly how it feels when I put on Terre de Lumiêre. Lavender and honey are superficial, very pleasant and natural, pleasantly soft and warm in summer. Tonka bean sneaks in quietly and mixes in the background, the white musk is just as discreet. The top notes are hardly perceptible for me, but also no loss, because Terre de Lumiere brings me with its fragrance immediately into the summer on just this summer meadow, so that I only have to close my eyes and suck in the lavender summer sweetness.

One would like to immerse oneself in the bath filled with deep dark red peony leaves, velvety-smoothly scented they envelop one without becoming obtrusive. Wash off the everyday smell and leave behind pure cleanliness and graceful freshness without appearing artificial. The top notes are hardly perceptible, the peony dominates in all its presence and is only discreetly supported by musk and cedar wood warm and soft
An unbelievably pleasant day companion, natural, feminine, unobtrusive and at the same time so pleasant that even in the evening after a busy working day it still feels as if you have just escaped the peony bath

With this fragrance, no, just by the bottle alone my inner child comes, oh, what do I say to all my inner children, from the little girl to the teenager with glowing eyes from the deepest corners and daylight and also want sometimes: once to see the bottle glitter in the sunlight, once to sniff the raspberry drenched in Marshmellow, once (or finally again!) to see the world through the raspberry pink glasses and just be sugar sweet!
Superficially it is the raspberry, sweet and juicy, which steals itself together with the tufted Marshmellow into the nose and shouts: Pink is my favourite colour! A little later the pink grapefruit joins in and brings a little freshness to the sweetness. Amber and hibiscus only work discreetly in the background.
Maybe it's a scent for young girls, cute-sugary and glittering pink, but how nice that all of us carry this girl inside us and can confidently treat ourselves to a sweet dash of teen light-heartedness!