Powdery, balsamic, sweetly floral, the most perfumey perfume scent I can imagine, in a beautiful way. It is not a smell that could occur in nature and is better for it, it seems to me to be like the platonic ideal of perfume an archetype of “perfume-ness” in its subtle beauty. I need a bottle. It reminds me of something I can’t put my finger on.
It’s honey and flowers and fruit and citrus over amber and sandalwood and tolu. It is your grandmother’s dressing table. It is a French cafe in 1952 and a French cafe in 1968. It is glamorous and ageless, appropriate to debutantes and revolutionaries. It is utterly the essence of perfumeness.
It is warm and sensual and wants desperately to invite people to bury their face in that nook where your throat meets your shoulder.
Thoughts From The Peacock Angel 