Les Heures de Parfum


It was red she wanted, the blush of excitement, the swelling of bitten lips like strawberry flesh, the carnation in his boutonnière. Moving closer, driving him crazy, shedding her shyness to wrap herself in the filmy, playful, sensuous frills of CRÈME DE MARRONS. No more stage fright, just a rhythmic dance in the aura of iris notes as rich as a velvet stage curtain, spotlights following her body. Look, here’s my shoulder velvety with CLOVE NOTES, there my swaying curves, then I vanish the better to come back to you, all legwork and pouting lips. Do you love my legs? The nape of my neck? The small of my back? Look, I’m your lover unveiled at L’HEURE CONVOITÉE dressed in my powdered skin, my red lingerie of red rose notes flying off in a peal of laughter dissolving into FRESH GREEN NOTES. And what if I said “vous” to you, just for show, like Juliette Gréco singing: “Undress me, but not too soon, not too fast, learn to want me…”