Janacelina

The perfect fragrance for late summer and early autumn. The citrus notes at the beginning still tell of summer - an exotic summer through the Yuzu, perhaps one was on vacation. But the violet leaf grounds it, and slowly the vetiver comes through. The first leaves fall, and the green of summer gives way to the brown of autumn, the brown of the earth, the leaves, and the tree trunks that are now more visible as the leaves fall. One prepares for the cozy season. Perhaps one is already prematurely lighting a fireplace, but that is almost more symbolic - we still carry the warmth of summer deep within us, the earth outside is still warm.

There is a song by Reinhard Mey that, in my opinion, tells the same story as Bon Parfumeurs 003 - "I Love the End of the Season":

"When the sun shines now, it is no longer a given
And you take each ray individually and gratefully
Nothing is as it was, and you can feel: Everything is finite
Even if you don't understand it, you sense: It has its meaning
You don't need to complain about the sidewalk parkers anymore
The fancy cars have long since left
With their fur ladies, whose dogs mess up the paths -
I love the end of the season!"

To name a perfume "Mémoire"/"Memory" is actually quite presumptuous. (Scent) memories are not predetermined; they arise organically in each individual life, and certainly not according to plan. "Mémoire d'une Odeur" also does not coincidentally smell like anything concrete that I personally associate with special moments. But still. "Memory" captures it quite accurately. Gucci's "Mémoire" reminds me of every beautiful summer I have had.
"Mémoire" reminds me of the summers of my childhood, where I swung in the sun in my grandparents' garden, where there was always a child in the neighborhood who had time and desire to play. I met a new neighbor kid. We lie on the grass and eat fizzy candy from bags, and later we might go to the outdoor pool. But even if our parents change their minds because it is so cozy on the terrace, it will still be a lovely day. I will fall asleep in the car on the way home. I am too young to know what casts these days in a golden light and allows me to live with so much trust, and that this is not something to take for granted.
"Mémoire" reminds me of the summer when I was 16 and in love for the first time. We spontaneously drove to Lake Constance with friends and sat in one of the many old, overgrown castle ruins in the late afternoon. Someone brought a guitar, another some marijuana, and we use both generously. I have not yet run out of patience for men who explain the world to me, and the boy I am in love with explains his life philosophy to me with a bravado and worldly wisdom that only teenagers possess. We do not kiss, but we will kiss, soon.
"Mémoire" reminds me of the family vacation in southern France. That year, we have so much fun with our camping neighbors that we don’t even go to the beach. In the morning, I accompany a mother to the bakery for the butteriest croissants I will ever eat. At the bakery, she learns from a magazine display that Princess Diana has died. I hope this does not affect our croissant-buying plans. Later, we walk through a picturesque landscape and find a river, where we spontaneously play with the stones in the water all afternoon ("Mémoire" has not a single component that smells like stone, but when I smell "Mémoire," I have the wet, mossy stones back in my hands).
It is this balance of security and exploration, of new and old, that gives one the feeling that the world is open to them. Not because one hopelessly overestimates themselves, but because one is so grounded in their own truth that there is (in the immortal words of Bob Ross) no failure, only "happy little accidents." Memory of what? Of all the moments when my safety net has given me the opportunity to embrace something new without fears, and as a result, I have become a richer person.