THÔNG TIN LIÊN HỆ
Hotline: 0938 74 6636
Địa chỉ: 17 Đồng Nai, Phường 2, Tân Bình, TP. HCM
Just like every night, Madam is getting ready in her office. She won’t have time to go back home. She freshens up, touches her make-up: red velour lipstick sometimes Bordeaux depending on her mood...
She likes him but the morning is soon approaching. She leaves after whispering these words in his ears... « Not tonight ».
At nightfall, the sky becomes misty letting the red light of the mill glimpsing through the window. The horns sound and the spirit of celebration comes to the city. In front of her mirror, she’s getting ready and doing her makeup. I
t’s time for beauty to go on stage. She goes toward her wardrobe, inspired by that tuxedo that will enhance her bodylines. It is the Parisian glam, she knows it well, the trends too. Her bohemian style and erotic energy leaves indelible footprints on the streets. She is Pigalle, beautiful and mysterious...
She’s getting ready. It’s a beautiful day. The sky is blue. She puts her naked foot on the floor and like a dancer, travels the distance of the mirrored hallway to the dressing table. It’s one of her favourite spots.
She likes getting pretty there. There are only flowers from the garden, and both her hands, fresh and clean, which seem to spin around them. Her right hand, agile and light, grabs her powder, then a bottle of perfume. Her left hand clutches eye shadow and nude lipstick.
She then moves on to the closet, where she picks a light dress and fixes a rebel strap. She slides on pair of heels and fastens a belt around her waist.
Just like every morning, she walks towards her balcony full of flowers. It’s on the 4th floor and overlooks the gardens of Palais Royal. She is happy and thinks of her day ahead, smiling.
Leaving Paris, heading south, I reach the Cap d’Antibes. It’s here in this white house that I find those forgotten feelings again, of the breeze that freshens the veranda, of the warmth of the steps leading to the garden, and of the turquoise water gleaming in the pool.
I lie down under the lemon trees, in the shade, and scan the blue sky, where a few clouds drift, lost. The song of the cicadas is slowly replaced by laughter. The sun’s rays stroke my face, and I am soothed; seduced by the sweetness of summer.
It’s the Indian summer, when the hot days are over and the sweet freshness of the evening begins to fall. A sensual elixir marked with white and beige hues, a pure representation of contemporary sensuality.
The perfume evolves through the monochromatic style of Rothko where materials are dancing in circle one after another one. The leather is stripped down, dusted of any impurities, made it white and pure. The green notes embrace passionately while musk and bergamot push to the skies of Italy.
French Bouquet is a homage to the legacy of French perfumes in the 1970s. It showcases authentic Parisian sophistication and the capital's passion-filled nights, embodying the ultimate in French elegance.
Created by Amélie Bourgeois (Flair), French Bouquet is a traditional chypre in which bergamot, rose, jasmine, oak moss and musk are revealed and sublimated by aldehydes.
Their slightly oily and metallic potency gives a powdery appeal, as well as whitens and brightens the flowers in the chypre accord. This fragrance is the quintessence of French perfume, said Vesa Kalho, Beauty Buyer at Harrods.
Quai Saint-Bernard, near the Jardin des Plantes, the first couples arrive at the Tino-Rossi garden. As the night falls, the number of dancers increases and the bleachers fill up.
Under the silver moon and the lights of the tourist barges that criss-cross the quay a few metres away, the bodies mingle to the rhythm of the music. It is then that two glances cross paths. A discreet invitation brings them to the centre of the track.
As if they were carried away, they dance in the heat of the night. From this hand-to-hand seduction punctuated by knowing smiles, they end up slipping away to give free flow to more carnal desires. In the early morning, the sheets give off a scent of sleepless nights, mischievous and lascivious embraces.
In this garden of the sumptuous Palais Royal, out of sight, the pages of a book are slowly turning. Intrigued, a silhouette advances to start the conversation.
It is there, at the end of the afternoon, sitting on a bench in front of a sumptuous bed of roses with a scent mixed with sand, where they meet.
Carefree of the time that passes, reality ends up catching them. The guard’s keys come to close the garden doors...
At dawn, the doors close. The light coloured marble has kept the intoxicating heat of the day. It seems as if the lush garden is soothing, and the trees open their arms.
The desert’s night creeps under the arcades and the garden seems circled by alcoves. Someone silently crosses the darkness.
You can hear the subtle sound of fabric draping like a cloak over the discreet sound of the leather’s patina. The silhouette slow and haughty floats through the silenced garden. Maybe it’s Abramad... heavy door opens and a glimmer of light filters through.
A proud shadow covers the stone in the trail of the golden light. She disappears. Lift your heard towards the seven windows of the palace opened like big black eyes. In the hushed obscurity, someone stands facing the desert.
Late afternoon on the rocks of the Isle of Beauty. The silver sea glimmers under the fading light. Our last swim was barely an hour ago and I can still taste the salt on my skin.
The waves are subsiding little by little, and the moon, discreet, is rising in the sky as the red sun sets. On the way home, the scent of the fig trees perfumes the early evening and the fresh, clear sea air already signals the wistfulness of the end of summer.
A dense and potent elixir that pays tribute to the most famous of all flowers used in perfumery. David Benedek chose to work with rose in a different manner in order to unveil its atypical facets.
Tabac Rose is a fragrance that expresses textures, highlighting oriental and mysterious sensuality depicted in layers of pink, purple and plum shades. Opulent addictive tobacco, boosted by delectable plum and chocolate join forces with the majestic Turkish rose.
IFF perfumer Julien Rasquinet brought contrast by adding spicy notes of pink pepper and cinnamon. The sweet voluptuousness is prolonged thanks to the deep and mystical notes of patchouli and labdanum.
Nonchalant, she walks with regular strides. Her headpiece and the swing of her hips are well rehearsed. She doesn’t want to seem to pretty in her white headdress. Sovereign, she faints ignorance while passer-by’s stares cover the light coloured turban that unfolds in a corolla. Her frail silhouette sways proudly under the weight of this crown of sunshine: the envy of all flowers.