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Poetry and angel wings
Yesterday, the dear GirlofNow asked me that I had worn the Kilian "Love don't be shy" the other day. She read it on my profile and since she only knows the scent from descriptions, she asked me to write a comment about it, since she is also a big gourmand lover. I am very honored and hope that anyone reading this has a rough idea of it and can "feel" it a bit. However, with this perfume, I found it unusually difficult to describe it in the right words because it is simply beautiful and magical.
How did I even come to the fragrance?
A very nice perfumer has given me a sample of "Love don't be shy" to my ordered from her bunker bottle of my signature fragrance "La nuit Tresor a la folie" in addition. Thank you so much again :-)
I had never heard of the Kilian brand before. Shame on me, at first I thought it was some cheap perfume! :-D I didn't realize that I was holding the most expensive fragrance that ever crossed my path. So I blithely sprayed 2 spritzes into the air to test it. That must have been 5 euros dancing through the air! My first impression was "Lancome by Poeme in sweet!" I don't know how I got that association either, they are such different perfumes. But something in Kilian's DNA makes me think of "Poeme." This has been my mother's signature scent for as long as I can remember.
"Love don't be shy" doesn't go through much of a change on me, which I really like. It smells exquisite, expensive and a bit like luxury, but not arrogant, it's way too sweet for that.
Most I smell actually orange, marshmallow, vanilla and a hint of caramel, with the ingredients from an expensive manufacture and not from the discount store. Would be otherwise also bad, at THE price ^^
Slightly citrusy, beautifully gourmand, and every now and then a friendly rose winked at me. With me, it remains close to the body and has a medium durability.
Those were the hard facts, now comes my own personal, almost intimate association with the perfume:
I feel gently safe, wrapped in vanilla, powdery-sweet and orange sweetness, as if an angel embraces me. His large, soft wings tickle me lightly on the cheek, I press my face to his chest and he strokes my hair gently and tenderly. All around me it suddenly becomes bright, golden sunlight with pink iridescent speckles envelops me, around us an indescribably lovely, sweet scent. Suddenly I feel very light, a beautiful song resounds in my head, and my worries are suddenly very small. The angel gives me another short hug, smiles at me and then flies off again towards heaven. His scent, however, continues to float around me softly and delicately like a feather.
As I write this comment, the scales fall from my eyes as to why it reminds me of "Poeme": a mama is, after all, an angel in a way. She knows us even before we ourselves really know that we exist. She protects us, protects us, catches us and loves us idolatrously (at least that's how it should be, and I wish everyone to have such a mum). Mine, at least, often smelled like poeme and vanilla sugar because we did a lot of baking together. She was my home, my friend, and best comforter of all. For many reasons, our bond, once thick and unshakable, has become loose and decrepit. This is bad, and I will call her later. For angels without wings are called mama.