If you look up at the steep cliffs that lead into the untamed ocean, you can see them in the moonlight.
It moves even closer to the edge and stops just before the edge of the rock, which abruptly descends into the foaming and thundering doom.
The figure with female forms braces herself against the breeze coming from the sea, her face veiled by a deeply drawn oversized hood of a flowing cape of midnight blue silk over a light-coloured lace dress. The fluttering waves of the noble fabric repeatedly draw her figure and lie restlessly and smoothly behind her on the wings of the demanding wind.
It almost seems as if he wanted to drag her back to the land behind on safe ground by the delicate silk layers.
But despite the headwind, the figure stands steadfastly at the end of the ledge and almost motionless except for the cloak waving behind him.
But then something flashes in front of her chest and falls down the cliffs towards the sea The decorated dagger shimmers silver in the moonlight and the blade reflects the light as it rotates in flight.
There's blood on the tip.
The air resistance gradually wears away the red drops from the smooth metal until the dagger bores into the waves at the foot of the cliff with a fraction of it and disappears in them.
The masterpiece of blacksmithing art flashes through the water and continues on its way until it finally appears at the bottom of the sea and almost disappears completely in the grainy sand. The tides and the sea creatures at the bottom will play their part in making this deadly work of art more and more a secret between the lady on the cliff and the icy floods.
One with the surrounding area, the weapon will never be found here. The figure is sure of this far above the manifesting oblivion, while it has attentively followed the flight of the object with its gaze and has also been sure of its immersion and submersion for too long.
Only then does she turn, restlessly embraced by her cloak, from the edge of the rock inland and strides, her long dress slightly raised and with almost sublime steps, towards the waiting carriage.
Both disappear between jagged rock formations into the darkness, in which even the moonlight can finally no longer find them.
Is this the smell of revenge?
Does revenge even smell?
If so, then it must be like Valentino's vendetta.
Because revenge, if anything, can be quite stylish. Deadly rather only in the movie or in this dream. The victim, however, is supposed to get a last glimpse of what he has lost. The last thoughts should bring it to raison, which has become useless now.
His fate is sealed.
The victim must know this when he looks into the face of his avenging angel.
In my dream the chances are irretrievably lost, the blade flashes in the pale light of the moon shining through the windows into the stylishly furnished room in the west wing of the old Irish castle.
The two figures are dark and only slightly illuminated by moonlight from the side. Nevertheless, a scene takes place in the diffuse light, which shows the razor-sharp intention very clearly.
Finally, one of the figures approaches the other. The tension tears up the air, which is literally audible in her.
Then a sound. The figure struck by the blade drops to his knees, hand on his chest. Dark red liquid drips through the fingers onto the inlaid marquetry in the floor.
Silently, the figure looks up to his chest and then up to the person opposite, who still holds the weapon firmly in his hand.
Determined, if necessary, to repeat the previous act in order to bring the matter to an end. But it need not come to that. Almost in slow motion, the person hit moves towards the ground, where he or she comes up with a muffled sound. While blood continues to leave the lifeless body and underneath it the embedded works of art disappear into the ground under deep red, the murderer is already on her way by carriage to the big cliff, where her plan turns into the final act.
Then she'll disappear into the night.
Rarely has a fragrance from the nineties captivated me as much as Valentino Vendetta, despite its supernatural radiance or precisely because of it. He never came near me again since that time and now he knocks on my door.
My heart has not been broken for this, nor do I have a desire for revenge against anyone.
Nevertheless, the dream I associate with the word "vendetta" is eerie and beautiful at the same time, combining feminine elegance with equal vulnerability, and radiating a kind of complete disruption in which beauty and passion meet ruin. Just like the fragrance of the same name.
He has a class that is hard to find these days.
The powerful performances of a hyacinth paired with orange tones, as if cool and warm meet. A kind of brittleness, dryness and yet sensual floridity, which catches and continues the fragrance start, leaves me astonished, even if I think that this fragrance might be too big for me.
And after a while, when these aromas have united in their contrasts like harmonies, the final bouquet comes.
If you think that's all that's possible, then more is possible. It's a vendetta.
Revenge isn't halfway, it's either full or it's not.
This is also how the scent lives.
Strengthened by myrrh and proper patchouli, we are heading for the showdown.
Then, as if the work had been completed, an unheard-of femininity through musk and heliotrope is added, which appears to me here vanilla, honey-like and softened.
A note that draws the fragrance slightly into the gourmand realm but does not become sweet. Almost again a contrast, which seems to be none in this masterpiece
Vendetta can also be an enrichment for collections that are milder or more youthful. As a contrast, as a classic, as fragrant femininity and perfect elegance. For (very) special moments, big or even the gigs and for memories of now and for eternity.
Or simply to daydream with yourself.
Such moments can also be staged and enjoyed accordingly.
Especially they come off badly in these days, are often completely forgotten.
Moments to be with yourself, pause, breathe deeply and hear your heart beat.
I would never have thought that after so many years this fragrance would "catch up" with me
Another mosaic stone more in my collection, one that stands out and yet fits in.
One that I thought I didn't need, but now I'm told otherwise
When revenge unites opposites.