Perfume Pangs
“Wait! Come here.” She marched me to a Histoire de Parfums display that looked like a row of overturned martini glasses, picked one up and inhaled it like the next fix in her continuing ether jag. She sighed, handing the glass to me.
“You haven’t seen him yet, but you know this man.”
“You haven’t seen him yet, but you know this man.”
I did a nose-drag. It was emotion-seizing: the complex, expensive scent of a civilized man. A well-shaved European — wet pine, fire, cold Sauternes. I could almost taste the clean leather and tweed. It hit with a resonant pang, right below the belt into unfair, instant, knuckle-biting yearning.
We looked at each other in a mutual reverie.
“Unngh.” I moaned.
“Right?”
The fragrance — aromatique hespéridé — was created by the ridiculously handsome Gérald Ghislain, in honor of Jules Verne. The Hesperides were Greek nymphs of the evening, charged with protecting Hera’s orchard of immortality-granting golden apples of joy.
Damn. I think we all need to go smell this!
---Quote from Cintra Wilson's The Critical Shopper NYTimes via Fashion is Spinach
posted by Annieytown @ 4:42 AM
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