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Iris Trousseau or the Scent of a Baroque Time Travel
Excerpt from my blog:
...
Thoughts and feelings are swirling around inside me. They say that scents can trigger emotions, awaken memories, and bring lost parts of life back to life in an instant.
With Iris Trousseau, something entirely different happens to me! It feels as if I have been pulled into another dimension! Impressions rain down on me like fragments of a puzzle. At first, the picture seems rather difficult to piece together.
A pearl-gray, tightly woven cashmere blanket envelops me. I feel both coolness and warmth at the same time. It seems as if I have been transported to another era. Before my inner eye, I see flickering candlelight. I find myself in a large, dark room illuminated only by the light of grand golden chandeliers. I hear soft whispering and giggling, and I see masked figures flitting past me. My gaze wanders over the thick high stone walls, the richly gilded furniture, the heavy burgundy velvet curtains, and I suspect that I am in a castle somewhere in Europe.
Behind me, I hear a door opening, and sparkling musical notes reach my ears. Spontaneously, I turn around and see dancing couples swirling through a richly decorated hall full of joy and energy. A grand celebration seems to be underway. A masquerade ball!
Now various scents also reach me. My nose catches a hint of incense and candle wax. And a bouquet of other pleasant aromas that I identify as perfumes of the dancing society. But as soon as I become aware of these scents, a very special fragrance rises to my nose. It feels both light and dense. Cool and warm. Distant and elegant yet enveloping and smooth. A scent full of darkness and candlelight. A perfume full of depth and mystique. Danger and sensuality. A baroque vampire scent.
I am almost hypnotized by it. My face stretches towards the fragrance like a plant reaching for sunshine. Tears of emotion at its beauty sparkle in my eyes.
I look down at myself and see a heavy purple velvet dress with an embroidered corset. My feet are adorned with matching dance shoes. I am ready to partake in the mystical soirée. And yet, I want to linger here for a moment in peace, in intimate solitude with this wonderful scent that envelops me like a second skin or a velvet cloak. I want to snuggle into it. Enchanted and calmed at the same time.
Iris Trousseau is a truly astonishing polymorphic fragrance. Mysterious, sublime, baroque, sensuous in a slightly dangerous way.
Rarely have I been so captivated by a scent!
...
Thoughts and feelings are swirling around inside me. They say that scents can trigger emotions, awaken memories, and bring lost parts of life back to life in an instant.
With Iris Trousseau, something entirely different happens to me! It feels as if I have been pulled into another dimension! Impressions rain down on me like fragments of a puzzle. At first, the picture seems rather difficult to piece together.
A pearl-gray, tightly woven cashmere blanket envelops me. I feel both coolness and warmth at the same time. It seems as if I have been transported to another era. Before my inner eye, I see flickering candlelight. I find myself in a large, dark room illuminated only by the light of grand golden chandeliers. I hear soft whispering and giggling, and I see masked figures flitting past me. My gaze wanders over the thick high stone walls, the richly gilded furniture, the heavy burgundy velvet curtains, and I suspect that I am in a castle somewhere in Europe.
Behind me, I hear a door opening, and sparkling musical notes reach my ears. Spontaneously, I turn around and see dancing couples swirling through a richly decorated hall full of joy and energy. A grand celebration seems to be underway. A masquerade ball!
Now various scents also reach me. My nose catches a hint of incense and candle wax. And a bouquet of other pleasant aromas that I identify as perfumes of the dancing society. But as soon as I become aware of these scents, a very special fragrance rises to my nose. It feels both light and dense. Cool and warm. Distant and elegant yet enveloping and smooth. A scent full of darkness and candlelight. A perfume full of depth and mystique. Danger and sensuality. A baroque vampire scent.
I am almost hypnotized by it. My face stretches towards the fragrance like a plant reaching for sunshine. Tears of emotion at its beauty sparkle in my eyes.
I look down at myself and see a heavy purple velvet dress with an embroidered corset. My feet are adorned with matching dance shoes. I am ready to partake in the mystical soirée. And yet, I want to linger here for a moment in peace, in intimate solitude with this wonderful scent that envelops me like a second skin or a velvet cloak. I want to snuggle into it. Enchanted and calmed at the same time.
Iris Trousseau is a truly astonishing polymorphic fragrance. Mysterious, sublime, baroque, sensuous in a slightly dangerous way.
Rarely have I been so captivated by a scent!
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Vanille Planifolia 21 - about unnecessary expenses and a sick bunny
An excerpt from my blog post...if you want to understand the meaning of the title, you need to check out my blog post. ;-)
...
Long story short… I am a proud owner of Vanille Planifolia 21.
So how does the scent smell?! Like a lot of money spent… and spicy candlelight!
I find the scent hard to describe… (partly because I haven’t spoken German much in years… let alone written it ;-))
This is not my typical favorite vanilla… meaning a spicy-woody, rum-soaked vanilla pod.
When I smell Vanille Planifolia, my impressions are more visual and tactile. Golden candlelight, a load of spices, a thick flow of vanilla cream, a golden velvet shawl… The scent is simply linear yet multifaceted. Sometimes I perceive it as smoky and spicy… but mostly soft, creamy, balsamic, buttery, and vanilla-sweet… without drowning me in its sweetness.
I also think I can detect something powdery and waxy. The image of the candle comes to mind. I think of Diptyque’s Vanille candle. I love that candle. It is very spicy yet also creamy-soft. Very enveloping and calming… like this extrait. The sillage of the perfume is by no means expansive. The scent lingers very close to the skin. For hours on end. Just like an extrait.
When I wear Vanille Planifolia, I feel protected… sheltered from this sometimes so terrible world. Like a delicate veil yet also a thick velvet shawl surrounds me with the perfume. Wrapped up, even embraced by a tamed vanilla orchid with long vines, I feel. But never suffocated. The scent also has the decency to retreat… only to suddenly appear like an opera diva with thunder and crash out of nowhere. Fiery and wild, warmed by my skin, it sometimes awakens me at night. And it has nothing innocent, linear, or even simple about it. And that’s exactly what I love about this scent. Its apparent simplicity during the day and its deeper complexity later at night. Then it resembles the vanilla scents that I love. Mona di Orio’s Vanilla and the earlier version of Guerlain’s Spiritueuse Double Vanille when it was still dark, rich, spicy, and slightly sultry.
Thus, it becomes the scent that transports me to higher realms or dreamlike domains… just as perfume means fantasy and imaginary journeys to me. A rich inner world full of discoveries, adventures, and pleasures. And when the dream ends, a light trace of scraped vanilla pod remains in my hair… and I find myself lost in reverie… wanting to continue dreaming.
And so I cope a little better with the high sums I had to spend on it…
...
Long story short… I am a proud owner of Vanille Planifolia 21.
So how does the scent smell?! Like a lot of money spent… and spicy candlelight!
I find the scent hard to describe… (partly because I haven’t spoken German much in years… let alone written it ;-))
This is not my typical favorite vanilla… meaning a spicy-woody, rum-soaked vanilla pod.
When I smell Vanille Planifolia, my impressions are more visual and tactile. Golden candlelight, a load of spices, a thick flow of vanilla cream, a golden velvet shawl… The scent is simply linear yet multifaceted. Sometimes I perceive it as smoky and spicy… but mostly soft, creamy, balsamic, buttery, and vanilla-sweet… without drowning me in its sweetness.
I also think I can detect something powdery and waxy. The image of the candle comes to mind. I think of Diptyque’s Vanille candle. I love that candle. It is very spicy yet also creamy-soft. Very enveloping and calming… like this extrait. The sillage of the perfume is by no means expansive. The scent lingers very close to the skin. For hours on end. Just like an extrait.
When I wear Vanille Planifolia, I feel protected… sheltered from this sometimes so terrible world. Like a delicate veil yet also a thick velvet shawl surrounds me with the perfume. Wrapped up, even embraced by a tamed vanilla orchid with long vines, I feel. But never suffocated. The scent also has the decency to retreat… only to suddenly appear like an opera diva with thunder and crash out of nowhere. Fiery and wild, warmed by my skin, it sometimes awakens me at night. And it has nothing innocent, linear, or even simple about it. And that’s exactly what I love about this scent. Its apparent simplicity during the day and its deeper complexity later at night. Then it resembles the vanilla scents that I love. Mona di Orio’s Vanilla and the earlier version of Guerlain’s Spiritueuse Double Vanille when it was still dark, rich, spicy, and slightly sultry.
Thus, it becomes the scent that transports me to higher realms or dreamlike domains… just as perfume means fantasy and imaginary journeys to me. A rich inner world full of discoveries, adventures, and pleasures. And when the dream ends, a light trace of scraped vanilla pod remains in my hair… and I find myself lost in reverie… wanting to continue dreaming.
And so I cope a little better with the high sums I had to spend on it…
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Olfactorily Wearable Bloodlust?
If someone had told me a week ago that I would soon voluntarily go under the knife, I would have insulted them, laughed in outrage, or sprinted away like an Olympic athlete (Catch me if you can, my life is precious). With all due respect, Mr. Grey, sadomaso? No thanks, and if it must be, I’d rather swing the whip myself!
Accordingly, I looked at Mr. André Strelzoff skeptically and a bit embarrassed when he offered me to test the Guillotine.
"How... you want to behead me?!! I like my head, thank you very much! My head is my most valuable asset, why would I lay it at your feet?!"
"But Miss, you will not be placed under the guillotine, rather everyone else will lose their heads when they come near you!"
Hmm, I was still not convinced. After all, I enjoy deeper conversations and there are already enough headless people around. And as for the love department, I have never liked being placed on an invisible pedestal; one quickly loses ground beneath one's feet and/or is swiftly and painfully sent back to lower realms.
Nevertheless, I overcame my initial skepticism and reluctance and chose to embrace my legendary curiosity and adventurous spirit. So on Saturday, I went home with a miniature guillotine and promised myself inwardly, in a calm, safe moment, to surrender to the olfactory bloodlust.
That day has now come. Today I am wearing Guillotine. So far, no one has fallen victim to it, but that’s normal since I just sprayed the scent and haven’t dared to venture out in public with it yet.
First impression? Special... So, the urge to snack on myself hasn’t overtaken me yet! The scent is green and spicy. I think I smell galbanum and cumin. The latter is one of my least favorite spices in fragrances. It often smells too much like sweat. Hmm, I wonder what others will think at the gym? That I come unwashed and have already sweated profusely before the workout? Maybe I should skip gym day and, with a clear conscience, lounge on the couch for some in-house scent research. No, I will overcome my inner couch potato (hopefully the others will overcome their outer ones too) and test the effects of Guillotine live. See you soon...
Oh yes, just before I go... Sophiste Parfums advertises the fragrance as follows (freely translated from English): This scent is for those who have a passionate personality and a living soul (yes, that’s me), for those who live meaningfully (still true) and uncompromisingly (hello gym!)... for true revolutionaries! Hot, resinous base notes that will blow other people's minds like a guillotine. Then there’s a short text about the French Revolution (I hate the end of this historical period; of course, I’m glad to live in a democracy, but I have never advocated violence). Moving on... this scent brings its wearer power and freedom (sure, everyone flees from your stench) and helps to lead others (hmm, I’d rather let my natural charm play). The scent that can completely change the general understanding of perfume (is that a reference to the almighty scent that makes the masses submissive? Like the perfume of Grenouille?).
That’s quite a statement and a huge challenge, isn’t it? To be continued...
A few hours later... No one has fled from me, and I haven’t received any specific comments on my fragrance choice. Now and then, I thought I saw a discreet wrinkling of noses, but I didn’t dare to ask outright if they think I stink.
Now my own verdict: I definitely find the scent interesting with its green, spicy, and animalistic facets. The few details that Sophiste provides are: grapefruit, Bloody Red Sicilian orange, tomato juice, spices, and oak moss.
The fresh-fruity accents don’t really reveal themselves to me, although the combination of grapefruit and cumin can indeed evoke a sweaty, slightly decomposed acidity. I also can’t smell the tomato, at most in leaf form, but even then, it’s very subtle.
As strange and interesting as it seems, and thus develops a certain charm for my nose, I still don’t find it lovable or wearable. I would rather intellectually observe and dissect it than merge with it. I find scents with tomato leaf notes quite wearable (see Eau de Campagne by Sisley), and I’m not immune to animalistic, slightly dirty perfumes (see Musc Kubilai Khan by Serge Lutens). With Guillotine, however, I smell more like rotting flesh (well, that’s a bit exaggerated), so the perfume is definitely not a candidate for purchase for me. However, I could well imagine it as an olfactory scent sculpture in an avant-garde art exhibition.
I haven’t become headless, and no one has fallen under my will, so the scent story has ended well. Meanwhile, since it’s all about blood and beheadings, I’d rather watch a nice vampire series.
Accordingly, I looked at Mr. André Strelzoff skeptically and a bit embarrassed when he offered me to test the Guillotine.
"How... you want to behead me?!! I like my head, thank you very much! My head is my most valuable asset, why would I lay it at your feet?!"
"But Miss, you will not be placed under the guillotine, rather everyone else will lose their heads when they come near you!"
Hmm, I was still not convinced. After all, I enjoy deeper conversations and there are already enough headless people around. And as for the love department, I have never liked being placed on an invisible pedestal; one quickly loses ground beneath one's feet and/or is swiftly and painfully sent back to lower realms.
Nevertheless, I overcame my initial skepticism and reluctance and chose to embrace my legendary curiosity and adventurous spirit. So on Saturday, I went home with a miniature guillotine and promised myself inwardly, in a calm, safe moment, to surrender to the olfactory bloodlust.
That day has now come. Today I am wearing Guillotine. So far, no one has fallen victim to it, but that’s normal since I just sprayed the scent and haven’t dared to venture out in public with it yet.
First impression? Special... So, the urge to snack on myself hasn’t overtaken me yet! The scent is green and spicy. I think I smell galbanum and cumin. The latter is one of my least favorite spices in fragrances. It often smells too much like sweat. Hmm, I wonder what others will think at the gym? That I come unwashed and have already sweated profusely before the workout? Maybe I should skip gym day and, with a clear conscience, lounge on the couch for some in-house scent research. No, I will overcome my inner couch potato (hopefully the others will overcome their outer ones too) and test the effects of Guillotine live. See you soon...
Oh yes, just before I go... Sophiste Parfums advertises the fragrance as follows (freely translated from English): This scent is for those who have a passionate personality and a living soul (yes, that’s me), for those who live meaningfully (still true) and uncompromisingly (hello gym!)... for true revolutionaries! Hot, resinous base notes that will blow other people's minds like a guillotine. Then there’s a short text about the French Revolution (I hate the end of this historical period; of course, I’m glad to live in a democracy, but I have never advocated violence). Moving on... this scent brings its wearer power and freedom (sure, everyone flees from your stench) and helps to lead others (hmm, I’d rather let my natural charm play). The scent that can completely change the general understanding of perfume (is that a reference to the almighty scent that makes the masses submissive? Like the perfume of Grenouille?).
That’s quite a statement and a huge challenge, isn’t it? To be continued...
A few hours later... No one has fled from me, and I haven’t received any specific comments on my fragrance choice. Now and then, I thought I saw a discreet wrinkling of noses, but I didn’t dare to ask outright if they think I stink.
Now my own verdict: I definitely find the scent interesting with its green, spicy, and animalistic facets. The few details that Sophiste provides are: grapefruit, Bloody Red Sicilian orange, tomato juice, spices, and oak moss.
The fresh-fruity accents don’t really reveal themselves to me, although the combination of grapefruit and cumin can indeed evoke a sweaty, slightly decomposed acidity. I also can’t smell the tomato, at most in leaf form, but even then, it’s very subtle.
As strange and interesting as it seems, and thus develops a certain charm for my nose, I still don’t find it lovable or wearable. I would rather intellectually observe and dissect it than merge with it. I find scents with tomato leaf notes quite wearable (see Eau de Campagne by Sisley), and I’m not immune to animalistic, slightly dirty perfumes (see Musc Kubilai Khan by Serge Lutens). With Guillotine, however, I smell more like rotting flesh (well, that’s a bit exaggerated), so the perfume is definitely not a candidate for purchase for me. However, I could well imagine it as an olfactory scent sculpture in an avant-garde art exhibition.
I haven’t become headless, and no one has fallen under my will, so the scent story has ended well. Meanwhile, since it’s all about blood and beheadings, I’d rather watch a nice vampire series.
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Salt on My Skin
With closed eyes, I listen to the sound of the sea... my feet buried deep in the white sand... the sun shines warmly down on my skin.
A slightly cooling breeze blows over, bringing gentle scents that tickle my nose pleasantly. I smell hot, dry sand, salty, slightly algae-like aquatic notes intertwined with driftwood that has been rocked by the seas for months.
I snuggle comfortably into my sand bed and lay my arm over my eyes to fully indulge in the relaxing experience. My heated skin emits a hint of musk paired with sunscreen aroma. The opened chocolate bar peeking out from the beach bag blends with the delicious scent of my orange cocktail.
I could lie like this forever, one with the ocean and the surrounding tropical nature.
These are the sensory impressions that wash over me every time I wear "Long Courrier" by Pierre Guillaume. Rarely has a fragrance reminded me so pleasantly of a tropical vacation. Aquatically infused perfumes are usually not my thing, but LC is so extraordinarily light and simply constructed, it feels so natural and high-quality. I don't perceive any particular scent progression. At first, it is a bit spicier, but quite quickly it develops into a true skin caresser: vanilla, light powdered cocoa paired with orange accents, salt, and woody notes are the components that merge with my skin scent. The sillage is hardly present, the fragrance close to the skin, almost intimate, yet it faithfully accompanies me throughout the day.
A wonderful vacation scent that somewhat eases my longing for the sea and sweetens the time until the hopefully soon-coming island vacation.
A slightly cooling breeze blows over, bringing gentle scents that tickle my nose pleasantly. I smell hot, dry sand, salty, slightly algae-like aquatic notes intertwined with driftwood that has been rocked by the seas for months.
I snuggle comfortably into my sand bed and lay my arm over my eyes to fully indulge in the relaxing experience. My heated skin emits a hint of musk paired with sunscreen aroma. The opened chocolate bar peeking out from the beach bag blends with the delicious scent of my orange cocktail.
I could lie like this forever, one with the ocean and the surrounding tropical nature.
These are the sensory impressions that wash over me every time I wear "Long Courrier" by Pierre Guillaume. Rarely has a fragrance reminded me so pleasantly of a tropical vacation. Aquatically infused perfumes are usually not my thing, but LC is so extraordinarily light and simply constructed, it feels so natural and high-quality. I don't perceive any particular scent progression. At first, it is a bit spicier, but quite quickly it develops into a true skin caresser: vanilla, light powdered cocoa paired with orange accents, salt, and woody notes are the components that merge with my skin scent. The sillage is hardly present, the fragrance close to the skin, almost intimate, yet it faithfully accompanies me throughout the day.
A wonderful vacation scent that somewhat eases my longing for the sea and sweetens the time until the hopefully soon-coming island vacation.
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Olfactory Time Leap
Yesterday's visit to the Global Art of Perfumery fair was my opportunity to discover a brand completely unknown to me until now: Parfums Sophiste. I was particularly taken by the concept of translating mythological figures and legends into fragrances.
Since an early trip to Greece, I have been fascinated by Greek mythology. André Strelzoff's brief scent descriptions evoke memories: my little brother and I seeking shade in the sweltering heat while our father tirelessly and relentlessly explores the ruins of Delphi. Our mother, trying to sweeten the endless waiting and make more "archaeological excursions" appealing. I see myself sitting under an olive tree on the steps of the amphitheater while she tells us the adventures of Hercules, Zeus, Athena, Aphrodite, and other deities or demigods. Her eloquent, vivid narratives captivate me. I aspire to Athena's wisdom and strength while Aphrodite's loves and "drama" leave me cold. Accompanied by the stories and travels of my childhood, I want to study archaeology or cultural studies later on. It will become more down-to-earth (business administration), but the childhood and youth travels are not entirely forgotten, as I decide to additionally study sinology after a trip to China.
But now back to the scents of Sophiste. Since the discovery happened quite late (just before the fair ended), I didn't have the chance to give all the presented fragrances equal attention. However, I was particularly drawn to Sculpteur d'Amour and surprised by Guillotine. At home, I got to try "A nulle autre pareille." It's actually not at all my scent orientation. I enjoy floral fragrances very sporadically. Ambered, woody-spicy scents are more my area of expertise. But as my passion for fragrances grows stronger, my "testing spectrum" widens. So today, I have taken ANAP as my olfactory research object.
Parfums Sophiste describes the scent as the divine embodiment of woman. The perfume is supposed to convey timeless femininity and endless beauty. Charm, sensuality, tenderness, innocence, and vulnerability are the attributes of the ideal woman according to the French-Russian fragrance brand. Personally, I must say upfront that this perfume does not reflect the ideal woman for me. It lacks depth and extravagance. The olfactory embodiment of the ideal woman (assuming such a thing exists, which I believe is a very subjective concept) has more woody, smoky, and ambered facets for me. A certain innocence and vulnerability are part of it, but ultimately she is above all sensual, strong, and unique. That is my personal opinion.
So I try to perceive the scent far from this predetermined concept. As soon as I spray the fragrance, I am overcome by the feeling of having landed headfirst in a mimosa bush. I feel like a human bee, just awakening from a deep intoxication, still honey-drunk. Pollen sticks to me everywhere. Yes, this evocation is indeed sensual. This bee is located in southern regions. More precisely, in Provence. And now, childhood memories are awakened again. I am on my first "individual" trip with the family of my then best friend to Provence, specifically to Bormes-les-Mimosas where her aunt owns a holiday home. There are plenty of mimosa bushes in this area, hence the name of the little town. This trip will also be the occasion for my first visit to Grasse. At my (polite and enthusiastic) urging, we will take a trip to the famous perfume city. There, my passion for fragrances will also be ignited.
As I indulge in memories and write these lines, the scent accompanies me and envelops me in a honey-mimosa cloud. I believe I can only faintly perceive the other components. At the very beginning, there was a hint of freshness that did not reveal itself to my nose as basil (I love this herb above all) but rather like fresh garden mint. White rice dipped in musk caresses my skin. It reminds me of the body scrub from Kenzoki Sensuel. During in-house spa days, I felt like I was wrapped in fluffy-light rice pudding, a very sensual, culinary-olfactory experience. I don't really believe I can discern spices. But lily of the valley accompanies the scent journey along with other white flowers that otherwise smell relatively constant like honey-soaked mimosas.
I am torn between spring and summer feelings, between the present and the past. Even though I rarely wear floral perfumes, I really enjoyed this olfactory time travel.
Evening addendum: the scent has developed into a discreet skin scent, the floral splendor has diminished. Only the honey and the white musk are still frolicking here.
Since an early trip to Greece, I have been fascinated by Greek mythology. André Strelzoff's brief scent descriptions evoke memories: my little brother and I seeking shade in the sweltering heat while our father tirelessly and relentlessly explores the ruins of Delphi. Our mother, trying to sweeten the endless waiting and make more "archaeological excursions" appealing. I see myself sitting under an olive tree on the steps of the amphitheater while she tells us the adventures of Hercules, Zeus, Athena, Aphrodite, and other deities or demigods. Her eloquent, vivid narratives captivate me. I aspire to Athena's wisdom and strength while Aphrodite's loves and "drama" leave me cold. Accompanied by the stories and travels of my childhood, I want to study archaeology or cultural studies later on. It will become more down-to-earth (business administration), but the childhood and youth travels are not entirely forgotten, as I decide to additionally study sinology after a trip to China.
But now back to the scents of Sophiste. Since the discovery happened quite late (just before the fair ended), I didn't have the chance to give all the presented fragrances equal attention. However, I was particularly drawn to Sculpteur d'Amour and surprised by Guillotine. At home, I got to try "A nulle autre pareille." It's actually not at all my scent orientation. I enjoy floral fragrances very sporadically. Ambered, woody-spicy scents are more my area of expertise. But as my passion for fragrances grows stronger, my "testing spectrum" widens. So today, I have taken ANAP as my olfactory research object.
Parfums Sophiste describes the scent as the divine embodiment of woman. The perfume is supposed to convey timeless femininity and endless beauty. Charm, sensuality, tenderness, innocence, and vulnerability are the attributes of the ideal woman according to the French-Russian fragrance brand. Personally, I must say upfront that this perfume does not reflect the ideal woman for me. It lacks depth and extravagance. The olfactory embodiment of the ideal woman (assuming such a thing exists, which I believe is a very subjective concept) has more woody, smoky, and ambered facets for me. A certain innocence and vulnerability are part of it, but ultimately she is above all sensual, strong, and unique. That is my personal opinion.
So I try to perceive the scent far from this predetermined concept. As soon as I spray the fragrance, I am overcome by the feeling of having landed headfirst in a mimosa bush. I feel like a human bee, just awakening from a deep intoxication, still honey-drunk. Pollen sticks to me everywhere. Yes, this evocation is indeed sensual. This bee is located in southern regions. More precisely, in Provence. And now, childhood memories are awakened again. I am on my first "individual" trip with the family of my then best friend to Provence, specifically to Bormes-les-Mimosas where her aunt owns a holiday home. There are plenty of mimosa bushes in this area, hence the name of the little town. This trip will also be the occasion for my first visit to Grasse. At my (polite and enthusiastic) urging, we will take a trip to the famous perfume city. There, my passion for fragrances will also be ignited.
As I indulge in memories and write these lines, the scent accompanies me and envelops me in a honey-mimosa cloud. I believe I can only faintly perceive the other components. At the very beginning, there was a hint of freshness that did not reveal itself to my nose as basil (I love this herb above all) but rather like fresh garden mint. White rice dipped in musk caresses my skin. It reminds me of the body scrub from Kenzoki Sensuel. During in-house spa days, I felt like I was wrapped in fluffy-light rice pudding, a very sensual, culinary-olfactory experience. I don't really believe I can discern spices. But lily of the valley accompanies the scent journey along with other white flowers that otherwise smell relatively constant like honey-soaked mimosas.
I am torn between spring and summer feelings, between the present and the past. Even though I rarely wear floral perfumes, I really enjoyed this olfactory time travel.
Evening addendum: the scent has developed into a discreet skin scent, the floral splendor has diminished. Only the honey and the white musk are still frolicking here.
2 Comments
