Whispers all around you, the party is merry. The soft music in the background gets gradually louder. A crescendo. A glass, another glass. Ron y miel. Inebriating, amber nectar. Inebriating as the smell of the blooming jasmine, carried along by the warm summer gusts. A crescendo. You meet her gaze – she whispers a couple of words. You spot it – it is Lunfardo. Your forehead drenched with sweat. Salt melts in the sugar of the liquor. The shuffling Gotan rhythm makes you brave, the night and the tango are on your side. A crescendo. Deafening summons. The air gets even hotter. You are aware it will hurt you. Yet you can’t resist. You stand up and head towards the dance floor… her face lights up with a smile that brightens the night… That is all you long for, now.
A warm and sensual perfume. Intense crescendo. Amber nectar.
You are in such a transition area in which the smells of shrubs and the heath mingle intimately (and indistinguishably) with the saline odour of the sea.
You walk cautiously on the rocks of the small pathway leading to the beach, following – almost chasing – the sound of the waves, finding your way through the thick vegetation. It is a narrow and steep pathway.
You touch the branches of the bushes. A bent branch bleeds a dense and sticky resinous liquid, whose strong and bitter odour doesn’t want to leave your skin. And – in front of you – deep blue.The horizon expands and you abandon yourself to the sounds and the view of the
mighty ocean sea.
New York stinks. It stinks of cheap harsh tobacco and dense exhaust gas. The traffic jam seems to be endless. And it stinks of hot rubber and stale steam. People are weird. The fashionista lady with the glowing green stilettos orders a huge pretzel. And stinks of lurid street-food of any sort. Cinnamon and fries. Mustard and caramel. The cherry of the whore's bloody-red lipstick with the strawberry of her chewing gum. The side alleys are just garbage and urine. But there's a lot of bachelorettes waiting for the male-strip show, and it's going to be a flood of tuberose and carnation. I feel like having a walk tonight. Go get my crab cakes and a burger. And breathe in the miasmas of the city miasmas on the way. Oh I love this city. How do I love it.
A lush, delightful composition that focuses more on the juicy strawberry lipstick side of things, Times Square will thrill anyone who loves berry-sweet make-up scent but with a dark hint of danger crowding in on the innocence of that accord. Here, inflections of rubber and rotting fruit add piquancy and a sense of impending danger to the syrupy, innocent lipstick notes, and the result is a perfume that balances child-like joy with a razor’s edge of darkness.
Topnotes: Hazelnut Accord, Glossy Lipstick Accord
Heartnotes: Osmanthus, Tuberose
Basenotes: Sandalwood, Gajacwood, Styrax