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03/04/2019
Palonera
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Palonera
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time within the times
When a North Rhine-Westphalian February in the middle of the Ruhr area reaches almost 20°C on several consecutive days, then special measures are required, not least of all of an olfactory nature.
Down jackets and winter boots, the woolly stags in the wardrobe moved aside in amazement, making way in a hurry for light clothes and airy blouses torn from hibernation along with open shoes.
Spicy, heavy cuddly swaths were a thing of the past overnight and gave way to may-green silk ribbons, spring sky blue taffeta and entire early flowering greenhouses, captured in flacons.
"Spring - yes, it's you..." - or climate change?!
Whatever has brought him to us, this spring before time - I admit: I have enjoyed it.
A couple of days freedom of movement, a couple of days best mood, a couple of days light en masse and more green peeping out of the ground than probably really does him good.
And so it was certainly no coincidence that my blind grasp into the rehearsal box came across the very L'Artisan that fit into these days like no other: "L'Eau de L'Artisan" transports the unexpected lightness, the gentle freshness of those "times within the times" like hardly any other fragrance, not even from the same house and nose.
"L'Eau de L'Artisan" opens on my skin with a gentle, juicy, absolutely unacidic and at the same time extremely refreshing lemon, which has nothing sweetish about it, nothing scratchy-pitchy.
Immediately she marries herself with herb-floral verbena, begins to radiate, to shimmer like pre-spring cool morning air, which already promises the warmth of the day, but does not yet keep it, cannot keep it.
And already there is a hay hint - the hay that I already know from "L'Été en Douce", the sibling scent, also created by Olivia Giacobetti - the same nose, the same handwriting.
Coincidences, I'm sure, don't exist.
It's not a achiever theater that happens in the multitude on my animation - statesman a room play.
A small, fine chamber play with few protagonists, who are closely connected with themselves, with me, with my skin.
Soft and silky, white, light yellow, light green with streaks of light blue, air blue, water blue.
No painting in pastel - street painter's chalk, dusty, powdery, dry, the light pigmented.
Early spring light, early morning light.
Like 20 degrees in February.
And maybe in March, too.
Down jackets and winter boots, the woolly stags in the wardrobe moved aside in amazement, making way in a hurry for light clothes and airy blouses torn from hibernation along with open shoes.
Spicy, heavy cuddly swaths were a thing of the past overnight and gave way to may-green silk ribbons, spring sky blue taffeta and entire early flowering greenhouses, captured in flacons.
"Spring - yes, it's you..." - or climate change?!
Whatever has brought him to us, this spring before time - I admit: I have enjoyed it.
A couple of days freedom of movement, a couple of days best mood, a couple of days light en masse and more green peeping out of the ground than probably really does him good.
And so it was certainly no coincidence that my blind grasp into the rehearsal box came across the very L'Artisan that fit into these days like no other: "L'Eau de L'Artisan" transports the unexpected lightness, the gentle freshness of those "times within the times" like hardly any other fragrance, not even from the same house and nose.
"L'Eau de L'Artisan" opens on my skin with a gentle, juicy, absolutely unacidic and at the same time extremely refreshing lemon, which has nothing sweetish about it, nothing scratchy-pitchy.
Immediately she marries herself with herb-floral verbena, begins to radiate, to shimmer like pre-spring cool morning air, which already promises the warmth of the day, but does not yet keep it, cannot keep it.
And already there is a hay hint - the hay that I already know from "L'Été en Douce", the sibling scent, also created by Olivia Giacobetti - the same nose, the same handwriting.
Coincidences, I'm sure, don't exist.
It's not a achiever theater that happens in the multitude on my animation - statesman a room play.
A small, fine chamber play with few protagonists, who are closely connected with themselves, with me, with my skin.
Soft and silky, white, light yellow, light green with streaks of light blue, air blue, water blue.
No painting in pastel - street painter's chalk, dusty, powdery, dry, the light pigmented.
Early spring light, early morning light.
Like 20 degrees in February.
And maybe in March, too.
17 Comments
Hermesh
