The cherry on top!
In my naivety, I was convinced I was immune to cherry-scented perfumes. Well, it seems I'm not. I just hadn't gotten to smell the cherry on the cake yet. :)
Cherry Ink didn't even impress me at first. I'd sprayed it on my arm last year in midsummer and thought meh, tonka with even more tonka, sweet and even sweeter, nope, not for me. Fast forward a few month, winter came and ... there I was, still the same old me, only desperately in love with this damn cherry. :))
How is it? Well, in the first few minutes we have the classic somewhat bitter almondy cherry, amaretto liqueur all the way. The almond slowly fades away, instead something tangy-spicy-sour fleetingly passes through the frame, just enough to justify the idea of ink. So far so good, from now on it becomes even better.
The cherry, now sour-sweetened, launches into a fantastic and long term duet with a Chianti Rosso (or whatever red wine you may prefer). Not to lie to you, I don't actually "taste" the wine as such, but it somehow gives me the feeling of a sweet little hangover. Not like "OMG, I was so drunk last night!", but rather that moment when you hold the shirt you wore the night before to your nose and smile to yourself, at fond memories with clinking glasses and guitar chords. To put it short, it blew my mind! At a certain point, I had no choice but to accept my defeat and mumble: Cherry Ink, come to mama!" :))
Longevity and projection are remarkable to say the least.
80's themed pool party on a cruise ship
You're such a hedonist! :)) Well, even though I consider myself more epicurean (kind of :))), I still can't refuse Pazzaglia’s invitation to a pool party on a cruise ship. 80's themed party, that is.
I stopped being a clubber ages ago, so I retreat somewhere in the shade, on the chaise longue, not before pulling the punch bowl next to me, willing to defend it against intruders no matter what. :) I could lie there forever, sipping from time to time from my glass of sangria, half-absent, detached from the swirl of bronzed bodies and multicolored swimsuits, the iridescence of the pool water, Gloria Gaynor's voice booming from a vintage cassette player carried on the shoulder by an ad hoc DJ. Yes, Ms. Gloria, that's right, you will survive. So shall we! :))
Alas, the party comes to an abrupt end, long before dusk, and all that's left for me to do is stuff some chewing gum in my mouth and resignedly retire to the coolness of my room, where the sheets smell faintly of (what else but) vanilla. That's it.
