Jumi

"Give me your hand!" The little one pulled the even smaller one up, helped her up, looked stealthily down into the yard from above to see if her mother couldn't see either, and closed the attic door. The mother always complained when the little one climbed up the old squeaky ladder. And especially if she had the smaller one in tow... But the old messenger drew her, mysterious, memorable and treasure-chamber-like, like a magnet. They had already inquired about the front part, now they pushed themselves further between the boxes, big and small, old and older.

In one of these boxes, behind the antique brass floor lamp, they had discovered ES by chance. That would be a gramophone, the little one said omnisciently. Only it would be broken because he lacked the long 'Talking thing'. You could use it to play music in the old days. One of the old records from the same box was taken out, the needle put on the record. And - nothing. "What now?" The smaller one was impatient. Her forehead frowned, the little girl decided to start the concert by hand. Turned by her little fingers the plate moved faster and faster and squeaked, whimpered and howled under needle scratches. The little ones giggled cheerfully and sneezed from time to time from the whirled up dust. There she was all of a sudden. Short and sweet. And back again. Quiet voice. They looked at each other in horror and around. "It's the grammoding, it works!" said the girl and started shooting the record again. And then, behind the howling and the whining, there was a quiet men's tenor. They couldn't understand what he was singing about. Nevertheless, they tilted their heads over the plate, held their breath and listened to the long-winded tones. Dust slowly danced in the ray of sunshine that pushed through the small skylight, sank onto the wood of the floor and the lamp brass, pushed the roof beams apart and made the little ones dream in the middle of a big hall, decorated with flowers, illuminated with gold and sounded with music, somewhere in the 'Once upon a time'.

It's been a long time. Now me and my sister (no longer 4 and 8 for a long time) know that it was just an old record player and one of us irrevocably scratched record, which surprised us with the gentle men tenor and sent us on the "journey through time". I appreciate scents that do the same thing. Now I haven't known Nuit de Noël long, just for two years. You're welcome to wear it alone for me, at home, when I'm "ready to travel". Then he catapults me right back to the old attic. A classic, at that time usual, somewhat scratchy aldehyde start, whirls up a lot of iris dust, shines brass matt metallic carnation spicy, exposes his mossy old wood. Does not appear to be frivolous chypry or deadly serious soapy. In between, the flower heart sings, draws long tones, speaks an old language. Ylang and Sandel - the tenor and the music - a tried and tested, exotic-classical duet with still working magic. Has already worked in 'Samsara' and even more in 'Bois des Iles'. Here, too. As if one were suddenly standing in the middle of a large hall, decorated with flowers, with music and chandeliers bathed in warm sweet golden creamy light. Vanilla Happy... not like fresh young pudding, but in the old, almost "Guerlain style", serious, adult. And something fallen out of time, with that magic of 'Once upon a time'.

P.S. The only thing that could combine the fragrance with Christmas for me would be the box with the Christmas tree decorations on which my 4-year-old sister has sat down with taste.